I will still be here, stargazing
He could argue that Fridays are still a working day, which is why he reserves them firmly in second place (sorry Mel). They offer hope, promise, and it’s the first bite of freedom, but one that comes weary and dragged into the end of the day. Saturdays, on the other hand, are bright with the full potential of everything being leisure. Fridays are less the starts, more the end, and Saturdays are the beginning. ”Two against one, I know when I’m beat,” he offers instead, amusement coloring his tone.
”Could go mad imagining the wills and whims of the divine,” he mutters with a shrug, less invested in the potentials, though that’s rather fitting given his lackluster bonds with any of them. ”Could depend on which god too. Maybe they each have their preferences on headcounts.” He figures demigods must feel a bit like children in the sense of being watched, so he wouldn’t fault a deity for deciding to untangle from too many youngsters scrambling around, especially since they’re immortal.
”Could go mad imagining the wills and whims of the divine,” he mutters with a shrug, less invested in the potentials, though that’s rather fitting given his lackluster bonds with any of them. ”Could depend on which god too. Maybe they each have their preferences on headcounts.” He figures demigods must feel a bit like children in the sense of being watched, so he wouldn’t fault a deity for deciding to untangle from too many youngsters scrambling around, especially since they’re immortal.
Iskra
