Saints (SAINTS #1) | ✓

44

THE MEETING PASSED WITHOUT Michael killing her. Afterwards all of the gods stayed to talk business for a moment and she blended in well. With a charming smile on her face and her sharp tongue dulled to a sweet caress, she made sure to let everyone know her. Everything she had read proved true, her eyes innocently wandering around and saving each interaction she noticed.

Azriel was just doing whatever. When he had said he didn't like the other gods he had meant it, only hanging with the destructive group of people he had gathered. Seth joined them quickly after, proving her suspicions about their friendship right, but with the way he glared at her he didn't seem to like her that much. Probably her bringing up the whole cutting his own brother in pieces thing. Oh well.

She focused her attention back on the group she was with now. Aphrodite, Hera and Athena, a trio which hadn't meant well for Paris. She was no stupid prince though, drunk on human innocence, but they were still prideful gods, lost in their self-made divinity. If she tapped against their houses of glass they would shatter, but she wouldn't - not yet. First, diplomacy.

"This meeting was so boring," Aphrodite complained, shaking her golden waves out.

The scent of roses wafted from her, though her green eyes resembled thorns more than anything else. She was wearing a pastel pink dress of tule and lace, her dreamy appearance a sharp contrast against Hera's regal one. Underneath her golden corset navy blue flowed down like a peacock's feathers, jewels glittering on her arms and neck, her jade hair pinned up in a high bun. Her features were a lot sharper than Aphrodite's, eyes those of someone who had never known love. If the stories she had heard from Azriel were right, she hadn't.

Athena seemed the most down to earth. With her silver armor and cropped hair there was no part of her which seemed like it tolerated nonsense. Her eyes were the most clear of them all despite being so dark, somehow reminding Jasmina of no man's land, haunted with the souls of forgotten soldiers. Her muscles were defined and though she doubted Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, needed them, she made a mental note not to ever let it get to a fistfight.

"You never listen, Aphrodite," Athena reprimanded her," the Reaper always tells us important things."

"For you, perhaps," Aphrodite said," but I can manage my matters in love and beauty just fine without the interference of all these other gods I don't care for."

"Politics, darling," Hera cooed as she took a sip from the ambrosia in her glass," perhaps you should learn more from it instead of staring in that mirror of yours all day."

Aphrodite's smile was nothing less but poisonous when she looked at Hera, but before she could say anything the queen of the Greek gods already had turned her eye to Jasmina. Her voice was just as sickly sweet as the ambrosia on her lips, words reeking of the beautiful, false promises the gods spun.

"How about you?" she said," I assume being here as as the only mortal is a bit terrifying."

"Oh, quite," Jasmina said demurely, eyes widening with the fear she let seep in," I mean, when Michael was talking to me - I honestly thought he was going to attack me."

"Those archangels don't have any manners," Hera said with a click of her tongue.

"That they don't," Aphrodite said cheerfully, taking another sip," but your husband doesn't either, does he?"

"Then we at least have our taste in men in common," Jasmina smiled.

Aphrodite choked on her drink, laughter spilling over as she placed a hand on her chest. It bubbled like champagne in the air and Jasmina covered her lips, an innocent look appearing on her face.