we served a purpose, like a bloody circus;

[ladyfair]

Bam! You're dead.

Well, it might not have happened with a bam or a bang--maybe just a whimper. Afterwards, some psychopomp or another grabbed your hand and led you here, to this awkward waiting room on the astral plane.

There's stale coffee and some mediocre donuts. The chairs are moderately comfortable, and the paintings on the wall are pretty but somewhat unsettling.

Every so often one of the gods' messengers shows up and fetches someone to take them to their proper place in the afterlife.

It's kind of boring.

Comments

[pummelgranite]

[ She snorts. Seems about right that any Aphrodite would have quite a collection of toys. ]

An attending spirit of love, huh?

[motherloving]

Something like that!

[ He beams. ]

I'm also one of her--what's the word? Oh, yes. Temple prostitutes!

[pummelgranite]

[ She takes a sip, and then a gulp. And then most of the drink.

She takes a long look at him- yeah, alright, she can see it. ]

Wasn't that Inanna's thing?

[motherloving]

[ He grins. ]

They're very similar in some ways. My holy mother and Inanna.

[ He idly examines the bottles on the shelves for a moment. ]

But things are different when they go to the underworld.

[pummelgranite]

Inanna does love going down.

[ Was that a joke? did she make a joke? ]

[motherloving]

[ He half-smiles, and there's a gleam of encouragement in his eyes. ]

Good one, baby.

[ He gestures at her drink. ]

Another?

[pummelgranite]

[ Her own lips curl in reply. Close to a smile, at least. ]

Please.

[motherloving]

[ He matches it with an encouraging almost-grin of his own, then turns to mix the drink.

He goes a little further in making it this time--he adds a dash of pomegranate liqueur and a rose petal on top. ]

One more thing.

[ He sets it down on the counter but doesn't take his fingers off it. ]

What's your real name, girl?

[pummelgranite]

[ She meets his gaze. Some of the apathy she's put on gives way to the uncertainty underneath. Her gaze flickers away before she answers. ]

Laura. I guess my name is Laura.

[motherloving]

[ He makes a soft contemplative noise at that, and he holds her gaze. ]

Eurydice was always just a dream, wasn't she?

[ He pushes the drink to her. ]

Do you want to be Laura?

[pummelgranite]

[ She still wants to gulp down her drink, but instead runs her finger around the rim. ]

Nuh uh.

[motherloving]

[ He hesitates for a second. He bites his lower lip, and he actually looks uncertain of what he's about to offer for just an instant.

Then he smiles brightly. ]

You can be someone new.

[pummelgranite]

Little late to be anyone, innit?

[motherloving]

[ He wrinkles his nose in dismay. ]

What a fatalistic outlook!

[ He pauses, though, and looks a little more subdued for a moment. ]

It's true that it's a bit late to be Laura anymore, I'm afraid. Of course, you could still try. If you wanted to. But I hear being a ghost who can't let go is terribly dreary.

[pummelgranite]

Hard pass. Clingy's not my thing.