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It was about time for a break. Writ decided. After breaking Blacksuit blockades and consoling angsty friends, Writ decided that it was about time to look after his own self interests. A demigod couldn't work for the world all the time. Coyote was a perfect example. The last time Coyote had done anything for anybody was at Woodstock, and Writ wasn't quite sure if he was giving them his blessing, or just ******** them up for kicks. Either way, Writ figured that it was alright for a god's cultist to be a little selfish every once in a while.

So he decided to do some girl-fishing.

It was an easy angle. Writ went into some quaint cafe, ordered a mug of cheap coffee and put a notebook out in front of him. Find a nice looking girl and start saying some sweet things to them, preferbly things of the poetic type. Girls just loved those artistic writer types. Now Writ wasn't a writer by any means, but he knew what to say, and he thought the gift of gab would be enough.

He had been watching this one girl for a while now, or at least, the back of her head, but her body looked like it'd have a cute face attached to it. She didn't seem to be a regular in this particular cafe, so she probably didn't know of Writ. The godling figured he could go for it.

"Don't think I've seen you around here before." He said, putting a hand on the back of the girl's chair.

Ah, Spanish. Writ loved Middling. It was only around here that one could find girls from all over the world, and only need to know English to hit on them. Writ glanced down at the girl's book. A reader. Readers definately dug writers. This would be easy.

"Shakesphere, eh? I know a bit of the ol' bard myself. " Writ pulled an empty seat across from her.

"Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong. "

He quoted the only quote he knew from Shakesphere, he didn't quite know what it meant, but it sounded easy enough to remember and smart enough to get a few impressed looks off the ladies, so he went with it. Writ set up shop with his notebook and cup of coffee on the table-- he was here to stay a while.

It took a minute for Writ to realize how this girl knew his name. He tilted his head to get a better look at her.

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Writ figured he didn't sense Zyanya's aura before was because he was thinking with a completely different organ. He looked down at his coffee cup, his face was flushed. It doesn't get any more awkward than hitting on someone you've met as a kid. How the hell did Vale do it? Tepin was practically his sister and he didn't seem to have any qualms about dating her after she grew up! Maybe Vale was a lot more despicable than he thought.

Writ sighed. He just didn't have the drive to do anymore girl-hunting. Even when he decides not to get involved with the Game, the Game decides to get involved with him. Such is a fate of a godling, he supposed.

Despite all that, Writ tried to make the best of it, "Sounds like my kind of book, cept' for the death part. I've heard that death was a dark, damp cave with a dog at the end. But the action sounds nice." He smirked, "How's the god-given growth spurt working out for ya?"

And.... She has a fiance? It could be a lie. It probably was one, but that still didn't keep Writ's hopes from crashing to the ground. Maybe he could find someone nice and not in the Game. Like Fish, except not a guy. He wasn't like that, he was just lonely.

At least Writ could empathsize with Zy and the issue of growing up, "Yeah, you got my god to thank for putting another dimension to the Game."

When asked how he was feeling, Writ shrugged.

"Oh, I'm fine, blowing things up, inciting riots, being the rumor on everyone's lips, you know." Writ doubted Zyanya knew at all, "The usual grind."

It's a chest joke. Writ thought to himself. He didn't expect Zy to get it, and he wasn't going to elaborate on it. Still, he had to say something. A lot of godlings he's seen lately have definitely not been on the ball with things.

"Haven't you read the papers? You know, Blacksuit headquarters getting smashed up, riots at the blockades, all that fun stuff. All thanks to yours truly." Writ smiled. Modest, he was not.

"You sure sound like it." Writ was just picking up on Zyanya's stress. It was bad enough to grow up overnight, it was another thing to deal with the family. Writ was rather blessed to be the only child in the family. Siblings tend to notice when their younger half suddenly grow taller than them. It seemed a lot harder to disappear.

"You alright?" Writ tilted his head the other way at Zyanya, "I remember my first growth spurt, I was a bit off too."

"Oh." Writ looked down at his coffee. He honestly didn't really know what to say about that. With the increase of Blacksuit surveillance, combined with the apparent bloodthirsty players out there, Zyanya was going to have a hard time actually avoiding the Game. Writ tried to take a day off from it, and he ended up meeting a grown Zyanya. Writ figured the only real way to get away would probably be to get out of the city, but even then, the gods in their heads could come and go as they pleased.

Writ grimaced, "I'm sorry." he took a long sip of his coffee. Unlike Zyanya, he was practically raised on the stuff.

"I don't think you really can stop playing." He didn't want to be the bringer of bad news, but it was just an unfortunate reality, "I mean, I'm a nice guy, and I really don't want to kill anybody, but there's players out there who would, I just talked to a dead guy a couple of days ago, I know."

He was rambling and he knew it. All this death talk was quickly getting him depressed.

"Bloody?" Writ finished her thought, "Yeah, well I guess that's why they start us off young, you know? Give us all these fantastic magical powers, lure us in, grow us up, then tell us we gotta kill each other with them." He sighed, "I've made enough friends in the Game to keep them from killing me, and I don't really have any reason to kill them. Though I figure I'm just delaying the inevitable, someone's going to have to win this Game one day." A shrug. It wasn't something that crossed his mind until now, but it wasn't exactly in his immediate future either. He didn't think much of it.

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players." Writ said the only other line of Shakesphere that he knew, "Though I guess in our case, it's more of an arena."

There was a depressed pause.

"Ugh, this talk about death is really getting to me." Writ stood up, took his mug of coffee and downed the entire thing with one gulp, "You wanna go for a walk? Sitting down talking about stuff like this makes me anxious."