Tangled Webs and the Like
[OOC Disclaimer: The following post will not be pretty physically, emotionally or mentally. Please do not read if you are weak of heart (or stomach). Here there be dragons (or dragon ladies getting laid).
Our thanks,
The Typists]
It was a gorgeous chalet in the French Alps. Gloriously appointed, with incredible views everywhere you looked, and perfectly shielded to have it fly under the radar of any overly-excitable spouses who might prove difficult.
They would not be easily detected.
One might think that as a goddess of marriage and fidelity, Hera's intentions might be questionable.
Hera's first response to that, of course, would be that she was the Queen. She did what she wanted.
However, the fact was that for the most part, Hera had been incredibly faithful to Zeus, considering the length (and the events) of their marriage. And Hera did, in fact, love Zeus, to whatever capacity she was actually capable of doing so after so many years of faithlessness, fighting, and venomous wrath.
When it came down to it, he was her match, her mate, and if she were one for disgusting, syrupy terms of endearment, he might even be her pookie snuggle bear, or some such.
However, there were occasions (and opportunities) that Zeus' own philandering had caused her to refuse to pass up. Even in the Golden Age, she'd strayed once or twice, usually while distraught over her husband's own indiscretions. Her little darling, Pasithea, was proof enough of that.
(Though she hadn't seen the girl in quite a while, she had a fondness for her that matched any of the children she'd had with Zeus. The girl's very nature appealed to Hera infinitely, even if she was clearly a bit touched.)
In any case, Zeus had never really stopped philandering, though over the eons, Hera -had- started to care just a -little- less... or at least, the drink and drugs had helped to that end. Normally, she couldn't be bothered with extramarital affairs... she wasn't terribly libidinous, usually, and few could meet the standard.
Of course, Erebos more than met it, and surpassed it.
So, she'd made all the arrangements. Wore a stunning, simple dress. Fantastic shoes.
Objectively speaking, the Queen's appearance was quite ravishing.
One who didn't know would never have guessed at what lay inside.
Hera, however, was blissfully oblivious to such disparities, and so called out to the Underworlder who was about to make her day.
(She couldn't help but smirk at that thought.)
"Oh Erebos..." she called to him.
Our thanks,
The Typists]
It was a gorgeous chalet in the French Alps. Gloriously appointed, with incredible views everywhere you looked, and perfectly shielded to have it fly under the radar of any overly-excitable spouses who might prove difficult.
They would not be easily detected.
One might think that as a goddess of marriage and fidelity, Hera's intentions might be questionable.
Hera's first response to that, of course, would be that she was the Queen. She did what she wanted.
However, the fact was that for the most part, Hera had been incredibly faithful to Zeus, considering the length (and the events) of their marriage. And Hera did, in fact, love Zeus, to whatever capacity she was actually capable of doing so after so many years of faithlessness, fighting, and venomous wrath.
When it came down to it, he was her match, her mate, and if she were one for disgusting, syrupy terms of endearment, he might even be her pookie snuggle bear, or some such.
However, there were occasions (and opportunities) that Zeus' own philandering had caused her to refuse to pass up. Even in the Golden Age, she'd strayed once or twice, usually while distraught over her husband's own indiscretions. Her little darling, Pasithea, was proof enough of that.
(Though she hadn't seen the girl in quite a while, she had a fondness for her that matched any of the children she'd had with Zeus. The girl's very nature appealed to Hera infinitely, even if she was clearly a bit touched.)
In any case, Zeus had never really stopped philandering, though over the eons, Hera -had- started to care just a -little- less... or at least, the drink and drugs had helped to that end. Normally, she couldn't be bothered with extramarital affairs... she wasn't terribly libidinous, usually, and few could meet the standard.
Of course, Erebos more than met it, and surpassed it.
So, she'd made all the arrangements. Wore a stunning, simple dress. Fantastic shoes.
Objectively speaking, the Queen's appearance was quite ravishing.
One who didn't know would never have guessed at what lay inside.
Hera, however, was blissfully oblivious to such disparities, and so called out to the Underworlder who was about to make her day.
(She couldn't help but smirk at that thought.)
"Oh Erebos..." she called to him.