Maeve
Prissy. That's a good word for it. Maeve snorts a quiet laugh, grinning at him from over the rim of her mug before she finishes the last of her cider. She sets her now empty mug down, straightening herself up with a little hum as she cocks her head to the side. "Frey... Frey is an interesting being. They crave balance more than anything. This war is going to leave the world ravaged and depleted. They'd prefer it not to happen. At least, that's what I've been told." She shrugs her shoulders, not caring one way or the other. Frey wasn't her herald, but they did look after her workers. That tied the Madame to the goddess more than she might like to admit, but there wasn't much to be done for it.
They shift from the talk of gods quickly and Maeve is more intrigued by the idea of a game than anything else. Her brows lift and a smirk curls on cold reddened lips, "That's one of my favorites. Can't really say the balance will be fair. Shots are going to do way more for me than you." Maeve laughs, not seeming too bothered about it as she raises a hand to motion for a waiter. Soon there is a bottle of something strong and smooth along with two shot glasses.
She pours them both out a shot, "I'll go first." The Madame declares, pursing her lips in consideration as she thinks on what to tell him. "I'm a good swimmer. I speak fluid French. I can control bees." Maeve finally settles on, smiling sweetly at him as a playful spark lights up her eyes.
They shift from the talk of gods quickly and Maeve is more intrigued by the idea of a game than anything else. Her brows lift and a smirk curls on cold reddened lips, "That's one of my favorites. Can't really say the balance will be fair. Shots are going to do way more for me than you." Maeve laughs, not seeming too bothered about it as she raises a hand to motion for a waiter. Soon there is a bottle of something strong and smooth along with two shot glasses.
She pours them both out a shot, "I'll go first." The Madame declares, pursing her lips in consideration as she thinks on what to tell him. "I'm a good swimmer. I speak fluid French. I can control bees." Maeve finally settles on, smiling sweetly at him as a playful spark lights up her eyes.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now
so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
