Word Count → 417 :: No worries!
Perhaps she should start making sacrifices so Damianos would be sure to get his just desserts. The question was though, which in the Greek pantheon of gods would be best to implore help from? She was a bit too tipsy to consider that question fully at the moment, but surely her mind would return there again. It was doubtful her revenge would ever be too far removed from her thoughts. Hades had no fury like a woman screwed over. Even if the rest of the crew was too stupid to realize his deception, the next time they went back to Crete he'd surely be discovered. The women of the docks would know his crime the moment he uttered whatever deception he had come up with. Her surrogate mothers and sisters would tear him apart—and not in the nice way. The thought made her smile.
The Grecian nodded at Drakien's words. She wouldn't mind wandering either so much, the problem was she was used to wandering over water, not land. "Yes, it's in your blood, no? Mine too, to an extent, but I'm unaccustomed to wandering over land. You're lucky you have your horse and know how to handle the beast. I've just got my own two feet, at the moment." She was hardly a delicate flower, but seeing as she never shifted out of her two-legged form, walking long distances was wearisome. For the moment she was content at Hillsburn though.
Ariadne was no stranger to the hangovers the wolf hinted at. The last time she had woken up after passing out was when she had awoken to find herself abandoned here. Definitely the worst "morning after" that she had ever had the displeasure to experience. That hadn't been so much from imbibing though. A hangover had never really been much of a deterrent for her. "Mmmm, the last time I woke up from some good old liquored fun was when I found myself abandoned here. I'm sure you wouldn't be so unkind to me Drakien," she said as a cocoa finger poked his chest.
Gold eyes glimmered in reflection of the firelight. "We were put on this mortal plane to live life, were we not? Why pass up an opportunity to have fun and feel good?" Her finger began to trace lazy circles on his broad chest. Barrett had gotten the blunt side of her seduction, with the Romani she was taking a more traditional approach. After all, what was more traditional the alcohol-fueled debauchery?
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