Welcome to Gaia! ::

He spent the last four hours trying to get into some semblance of dress, with bare luck. Bare being the operative word in this instance. How ******** hard can it be to dress yourself, really.

He wondered if contortion was possible as a god, or if you would 'pull' something the way a mortal did. Whatever something was. The presence of organs seemed dubious anymore, as he regarded his midsection drolly.

The only possible way it could've been worse would be if he didn't actually fit into the clothes, but thankfully that eventuality was not a difficulty since he'd been a deity so long. The clothes he had were just starting to get artistically tattered. That ambiance seemed appropriate.

The knock startled him, and he lost his concentration, dropping the belts to his sword skirt with an emphatic expletive. The jewels and fine metal bits clattered on the stone floor, and he cringed. Lucius stayed as he was a moment, glaring down at the evil belts between the shadows of his bound hands.

"If you're going to come in, come in...I'm not ******** with the handle." My hands already feel like they will fall off. Maybe whoever it is won't mind dressing me. I can't believe I'm considering asking for help with THAT.

"You tell me. Is it a bad time?" Lucius looked up from the floor. When he was a Youth, and had worn no clothes, he had often gotten startled or prudish looks. Nergal's blush-and-stutter was a delightful mirror of those days. He imagined that those usually stoic features in such a state was a rare treasure.

"I suppose I should be thankful I managed my stockings and....whatever you call this bottom." Speedo? Underwear? Lucius attributed it to one of life's great mysteries and moved on. What a strange and pleasant surprise to see Underworld again. Despite the shy smiles and relative wamrth of our last parting, I did not expect to see him again. That we should meet in comradery again, with no favors between us. Is it so this time? I see no scepter or other device on him, and I can't imagine him having a purpose of small enough import that he would abandon it just for catching me in mid-dress.

Lucius arched his visible eyebrow, the one not hidden by his bangs or by the eyepatch. "Was that a joke, Underworld?"

"Either way, you'll have to excuse my rudeness, but you are right, this process is practically impossible. If you are in no rush, nor would take offense, I would appreciate your help. "

"Though if you are pressed, and needed something of me, I am decent enough to abandon hope of this. "

“Once in a lifetime, and you choose me?” He wasn’t sure if he should feel honoured or uncertain. Of all people to attempt social graces with, choosing the Sinned among the gods?

Regardless, it was a choice he benefited from. “I will try to make it exceedingly pleasant, then.”

He crouched; briefly, gathering the ends of the belts from the front of the swordsman’s skirt and drew it up onto his hips again before standing. “Come, stand behind me, and reach around my waist. Fasten the belts so that they are snug. Done from the front, the fit is usually too tight and less natural. “

It took effort to make sure his hands didn’t shake from pain and fatigue, but it was well spent. There was relief already in the idea that this exercise would be over soon. He had a flutter of anxiety in his stomach that another would be standing behind him, where he could not see them with his eyes. If he were not so bound, eyes would matter little, and where anyone is would be reflexive knowledge. Well...eye, not eyes, anyway. Let alone allowing another close to his wings, sensitive as they were. Allowing Kaelin to see to the wound had been trying...no, erotic...enough, months ago. No, Nergal I can trust to be decent and touch nothing he is not given permission to. Besides, from his reaction at the door, anything of that sort would send him running for soap to purify himself, I’d wager.

“Just because I extended the invitation....most would not receive it. ” It was awkward to admit. They had never really passed specifically over the fact that he was Sinned. Never really acknowledged it between them.

When he felt the buckles fasten, he gave a sigh of relief. There was something deeply satisfying, after this long, at being properly attired. Actually clothed, instead of draped or nothing at all. Nudity had its virtues, but he appreciated the decorations. Besides, the sword-skirt hid his tail, which always felt awkward around so many tail-less gods.“Are stars so strange and wonderous?”

He almost blushed at his own question. He felt plain, a wracked thing against a back drop of nothing. The new gods seemed so flashy, well decorated and elegant. He was just twinkling lights, fire, ice, and space. Who looked at the sky anymore, in such dark times, or even when things were well? Mortals had their trinkets and technology, they could take a picture of the sky and look at that, or render it in a 3d world.

Let alone another god.

The awkward feeling didn't go away. Nergal's first words were a bizarre mix of formality and frankness. Was that annoying, once again, or just ridiculous? Did the man know how to wind down? Lucius had a strong feeling that he didn't. It half made him want to grope the other god again, just to force him into some risible event. He restrained himself, however, and managed to catch the second half as well.

It wasn't exactly poetry, but He doubted Nergal was courting him. The words were dark sugar, nonetheless, and he slowly let himself sink down to one knee, head bowed, a shadow of grace he'd once held but for the scarring of his light and his face.

“Gaze freely, lord, to speak so nobly. You have given me the first time,” Lucius looked up at the cold-coloured eyes opposite, “Since my failure that I have truly felt regret. I would draw forth stars and suns and comets for you, and fashion you a mantle or trinket of some sort, to cheer your dark halls.....but that my powers are bound. So I must extend my apologies. Perhaps another time...unless the underworld is yet skilled in mummification, rites of preservation and the like?”

It was a gentle, prodding joke, meant to p***k the other's godly pride. A challenge of sorts, of the younger's strength for both their amusement. He hoped Nergal would take it as it was meant.

“You assume that there would be heart to find, anymore, in this strange skin. Parted by blade, these loose strings may unravel into dust and light, leaving nothing but the memory of nebula and dying light. “ He quirked, looking up at Underworld with some vague mustering of defiance. Old pride again. He could remember the origins of it now, candlelight flashes through a child’s colonial carousel. “As if I could be owned at all. It takes unmagic, seen in my own hands, to bind me. Plain linen and myrrh are only decorations, aesthetic as they could be.”

”Big if you would, take up one of the small glass vials on that shelf, “ He indicated to a recessed alcove full of perfumes, scented oils, incense and some empty vessels. “Place your aegis upon it, and I will set in it a gift for you. Starlight you may have, to light your eyes and heart in deepest cavern, darkest home, and bring you memory of what is lost in your domain.”

For what did dying do, but lose the hopes of stars? The souls of the ended shuffled on along dark roads to gray wastes or colourless places. Even small paradises forgot the true skies and were always finite. Hope was left to the living. The dead were rationed out favor or punishment as fitted the whimsy of Underworld.