[And there he is. He looks none the worse for wear, actually, though his wings are splayed out, loose and relaxed, on either side of the branch he's perched upon. Hades leans back against the trunk of a particularly sturdy looking oak tree, a bottle of wine clutched to his chest and one leg swinging precariously back and forth over the edge. A crown of narcissus and asphodel adorns his head - though by its inexact placement, one might guess he did not place it there himself.]
[A delay whilst he collects himself, and then two bright golden eyes lock onto Hythlodaeus. He shrugs then, as if it's a chore just to explain himself - but he does so anyway.]
I'm lounging; what does it look like? The fae creatures kept pestering me with their scarcely concealed euphemisms and thus did I escape into these boughs for a moment of reprieve and rose-tinted reflection.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-08-06 07:17 pm (UTC)[A delay whilst he collects himself, and then two bright golden eyes lock onto Hythlodaeus. He shrugs then, as if it's a chore just to explain himself - but he does so anyway.]
I'm lounging; what does it look like? The fae creatures kept pestering me with their scarcely concealed euphemisms and thus did I escape into these boughs for a moment of reprieve and rose-tinted reflection.
You are late, my love.
[He isn't, even if Hades seems to think so.]