❥ DISCONTINUED
❥ Incomplete
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/ˌevəˈtərnədē/ - eternal existence; everlasting duration
A mutant with telepathic abilities is tasked with performing a psychological evaluation on the God of Mischief. They navigate through their messy pas...
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❝ Lovely as the moon:
not flawless, perhaps,
but perfect. ❞
~Patrick Rothfuss
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They all dispersed quickly after the conference, and Nela spent the remainder of the afternoon in her room. It had been far more exhausting than she ever thought it would be, but she had to admit she did the best she could. It was nearly 6 by the time she dragged herself out from under her duvet to shower and get ready for Tony's party.
Her hair was still damp when she slid into an elegant slip dress that her grandmother had worn in the '30s. She admired her figure in the long gown for a moment in the mirror before sneaking down to the lounge's bar. Due to the social indecency of drinking the massive amounts of alcohol it took her to get a buzz, she decided to get a head start. She was rummaging in the cupboard trying to decide what to drink when she felt his presence behind her back. Jumping, she spun around to face him.
"Already drinking are we?" His voice was as smooth as the silk of her gown.
He leaned with his back against the bar opposite her with a drink in his hand. He was already dressed, black on black on black. The suit was very well tailored and he'd slicked his hair back tastefully. She had to turn back to the cupboard to hide her blush, plucking a bottle of rum from the shelf.
"As a matter of fact, yes." She turned back to him and raised the bottle to her lips, taking a drink. "Let's just say that I hold my liquor well." A smirk graced the gods lips as he took a sip out of his own glass. He twisted it playfully in his fingers when he spoke.
"Well, that makes two of us." His eyes wandered over her body lazily before returning to meet hers. "You look ravishing."
"Already? I haven't even done my hair yet." She took another drink from the bottle, holding eye contact despite the blush in her cheeks. "You don't look too bad yourself, majesty." Her voice dripped with drama and he rolled his eyes, walking over to take a seat on a bar stool.
"Please, don't do that to me." He looked at her pointedly, all kidding put aside. She giggled lightly.
"Well, I've everything I came down for, I better finish getting ready."
He squirmed in his seat as she moved to leave, winking at him as she passed, rum bottle swinging limply by her side. He couldn't stop his eyes from following her elegant form as she left. He exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding once the elevator doors cut her off from view.
When he's asked his father to join the Avengers back on Midgard he knew he'd be able to have a little fun, some good old fashioned mischief. He also knew he'd be watched closely, and though he'd hoped it would be Asta partnered with him he never imagined it would be like this.
She was overpowering, both in her abilities and as a perfectly normal being. Her personality was magnetic, her powers were desirable and she was an absolute handful. She exhausted him and energized him all at once, and they had grown closer than he had ever thought possible. He was closer to her than he'd ever been with anyone and it struck both fear and excitement into the very core of his being.
He ran his face through his hands in mild frustration. He was unable to think her through. No amount of power or strategy could help him figure her out. In fact, he wasn't sure he wanted to. His gut was urging him to just run with it, against his better judgement.
