A party for the ages

“I always wondered how they made those things,” Jeffrey said, gesturing to the champagne tower with his glass. It started the night at eight feet above the table and now stood at a stout five.

Derrek gave him a sideways glance with a raised eyebrow. “They stack the glasses in a diamond shape then pour the champagne on top, filling the glasses below. It isn't that complicated.”

Jeffrey looked back at him, brow furrowed with annoyance. “Well yeah, but that thing was a foot short of a skyscraper, must've taken a dozen bottles to fill them all. Hard to believe there are still any bubbles left.”

Derrek looked back to the tower quizzically, then to his own glass. “You've got a point there. I didn't see it get set up, but maybe they used some kind of vat? Maybe a barrel of champagne? Does champagne come in barrels?”

“Hell if I know.” Jeffrey threw back his champagne and was visibly uncomfortable, a result of the bubbles hitting his sinuses all at once. He closed his eyes and nonchalantly pinched the bridge of his nose, pretending to enjoy the jazz playing in the background, and after several seconds of Derrek watching with a thin smile, the fizz passed.

“Care for another, sir?” A waiter with a tray topped with several more glasses floated over to them. Jeffrey politely declined with a wave of his hand, and the waiter moved on to other guests.

“I don't wanna hear it,” he said to Derrek's continuing smirk.

“Can't chug everything.”

“Shut it.”

A beat passed then the two shared a laugh. The party was going well so far, despite its architect, Discord, being nowhere to be seen more than an hour and a half in. He glanced around at the crowd. In one corner of the cathedrial-esque foyer were the Norse gods, dressed in black tie, loudly sharing pleasantries with local politicians. He caught sight of Jerricho chatting with a handsome man with flowing blonde hair and a stout man with a red beard. He seemed uncomfortable in his formal wear and kept tugging at his poorly-done tie, struggling for air.

In another corner, Frostbyte executives mingled with several of the Greek gods, along with a few of the Egyptians. Seth in particular stood out, it seemed he was having a discussion with Dr. Rebecca Shepherd and Professor Lewis Philman. It had been months since Derrek had seen them, and he was glad they looked to be doing well. Although he remembered them constantly at each other’s throats, he was fairly certain they came together.

Good for them.

And in the center of the room, the bulk of the Romans were engaged in what looked like a tense, but still lighthearted, series of debates with a mix of gods from each pantheon. He could see Captain Sizlack among them, discussing who knows what with a man whose hair and beard rippled like clouds, or maybe waves.

His attention was suddenly drawn to the front doors as they swung open, revealing Discord in a suit the same shade of red as his coat with a black button-up, sans tie. He strutted in but ceased when he noticed nobody noticing him, save for Derrek and a waiter near the front. He passed the waiter, casually plucking a glass of champagne from his tray as he made his way toward Derrek.

“Not quite the reception you were expecting?” Derrek asked, welcoming Discord with a handshake.

“That's the problem with parties,” he gestured to the crowd, “throw them too hard, and nobody knows who comes or goes.”

Jeffrey gave him a playful, but forceful, punch on the arm. “Might spoil entrances, sure, but it makes exits a hell of a lot easier.”

Discord grinned wide. “Very astute, Jeffy, never want to be the last one out of a good party.” He looked over to Derrek. “What’re you doing over here, Havok? The gods are on the dance floor!”

Derrek shook his head. “I've been running around so much I've barely had time to see the dance floor. The band was late, so the music only started twenty minutes ago, we can't keep enough shrimp on the tables, and don't even get me started on the chocolate-”

Discord put his hand up and cut him off with a series of tuts. “Don't worry about putting out fires. The whole point of the exercise was for you to get some much-needed networking, now quit hanging around the tower of fancy booze and make some connections! Excuse us, Jeffy.” He thrust his glass into Jeffrey's hand and grabbed Derrek by the shoulders, steering him into the crowd toward the Greek corner of the room. They exchanged brief, if awkward, pleasantries with Philman and Shepherd, which Discord punctuated with a high-five with Seth.

They continued toward a large man parked at the shrimp table, holding a plate piled high with empty shells. He had a full head of flowing white hair with a well-coiffed beard, dressed in an eggshell suit with an off-white tie. As he saw them approach, he set down his plate and broke away from the conversation he was having with one of the Frostbyte executives, Sherwood from accounting if Derrek was not mistaken, moving to meet them with a small smile under his beard.

“Ah,” he said in a deep, thunderous voice, “You must be our gracious host. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He reached out and grabbed Derrek's hand in an extraordinarily firm handshake as Discord finally let go of his shoulders.

“How’s it hanging, Thunderhead?”

The man's smile grew a touch wider. “Discord, I'm glad you've finally graced us with your presence.” He and Discord joined in a spartan handshake. “It's been much too long.”

“I couldn't agree more.” Discord stepped to the side and turned to Derrek. “Havok, this,” he gestured to the man, “is Zeus, ruler of Olympus. And Zeus,” he turned to Zeus, “this is Havok, ruler of Frostbyte.”

“It's an honor,” Derrek said with a sideways glance to Discord, “but feel free to call me Derrek.”

“Nonsense, Havok is a strong name! A warrior’s name! If that is what Discord calls you then I shall follow suit, as is tradition.”

Discord leaned over and whispered something into Zeus’s ear, something Derrek wouldn’t quite make out but left Zeus with a confused expression.

“You must be joking,” he said with a tone to match his face, “that trend fizzled out?”

“Was a shock to me too.” Discord shrugged. “Nom de guerres are still a thing, but the age of warriors is long past.”

Zeus shook his head sadly. “Shame. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep up with these human trends.”

“Don’t sweat it Thunderhead, ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. All you really need is a…”

Discord trailed off and stared into the crowd in the direction of the bulk of the Norse, a sour expression crawling across his face. He caught sight of a tall, gangly man with swept-back deep orange hair, adorned in a suit identical to his own.

“That son of a bitch stole my look.”

He marched toward the man, leaving Derrek and Zeus behind. The two shared a shrug, followed by a laugh at the shared expression. Derrek had been worrying about this party since he learned of it a week prior, stressing over the prospect of making connections with people who had been nothing but stories and myths to him for such a long time. It relieved him that the tension could be broken by something as simple as a common friend.

“So I hear you're the Devourer.”

Derrek choked on his champagne, stifling a cough. “Sorry, I just…” he trailed off and coughed again.

“...Wasn't expecting to be asked so bluntly?” Zeus finished.

“Yes.” Derrek regained control of his lungs. “Exactly that.”

Zeus chuckled. “There's nothing to worry about. We, as gods, have stayed out of this conflict thus far and will continue to do so. It simply isn't our place. If Discord doesn't think of you as a threat, nobody here has any reason to either.”

A wave of relief washed over Derrek. “It's an odd position to be in. Supposedly I've always been the Devourer, or played host to it at least, but it never came into the equation until a few months ago. I mean no disrespect, but even this conversation is surreal.”

“None taken,” Zeus eyed a nearby plate of shrimp and claimed it with ruthless efficiency, “It's rather surreal for me as well.”

Derrek's eyebrows shot up. “Really? How so?”

“You may think of us as legends,” Zeus swallowed his mouthful of shrimp, “but we think of Discord and the Devourer in much the same way. Throughout the ages, most of us have had to trifle with the consequences of one of your ancestors or another, and it has always been a thing outside of our control. The red coat has always been an omen of disaster for what it carries in its wake, and not even we gods can stand up to that carnage.” He cleaned out another shell and leaned in close, stage whispering the next part. “We stay out of it for our own sake. The prospect of putting an end to your conflict is beyond appealing, to say the least.”

It was as though a weight was lifted from Derrek's shoulders. He had expected cold shoulders and open scorn, but never did he expect respect from a god, let alone Zeus, of all of them. “I can only agree. Say, I hear your power company was in need of an investor for a new plant in Crete.”

Zeus choked on one of his shrimp, clearing his throat and setting down the empty shell on his plate. “You certainly do your research, how did you know I back Olympic power?” Derrek arched an eyebrow and looked at him meaningfully. “Ah. not exactly subtle, is it?”

“Like a bonfire in a field. Any chance you could consider accepting an investment from Frostbyte? I'm very interested in expanding into clean energy, and your fusion plants are state-of-the-art.”

Zeus smiled under his beard and down another shrimp. “Very bold. I like that. I can't accept outright, red tape and all, but I can guarantee you an affirmative response within the week.”

Derrek reached for a handshake. “Wonderful, I look forward to our partnership.”

Zeus shook his hand with even more force than before, his shrimp sliding back and forth precariously on his plate. “As do I, young Havok, a legendary partnership it shall be!” He released Derrek's aching hand and eyed his shrimp. He offered up the plate to Derrek. “Care for a shrimp? They're utterly divine.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Derrek held up his hands, warding away the platter of crustaceans, “I’m allergic.” Zeus’ smile faded and he retracted the plate quickly, the contents sliding about wildly, the empty shells and two of the shrimp falling to the floor without a sound in the hubbub of the crowd. “Nothing serious,” Derrek added, “it just wreaks havoc on my guts, and I’d rather not spend the rest of my weekend on the toilet.”

Zeus smiled again. “Wreaks havoc, you say?”

Derrek grew a grin of his own, “I couldn't resist.”

The two shared another laugh. Derrek caught a glimpse across the room at the Norse, the red-clad man and Discord slapping backs and laughing like old friends. Discord broke off from the man with a parting handshake and started toward him and Zeus, though Derrek was certain the man had cufflinks before the exchange.

“Seems the winds of fate call to you.” Zeus said through another handful of shrimp, “We must talk more later, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. Enjoy the party, more shrimp should be out soon.” Derrek shook hands with the lightning god once more and walked to meet Discord, taking a sip of his champagne along the way. They met halfway between the Greeks and the Norse, near Jericho and the red-bearded man.

“How’d it go with ol’ Thunderhead?” Discord asked, affixing a pair of links to his cuffs with bright red stones.

“He caught me off guard, but it went well. Will everyone I meet immediately ask about the Devourer, or was that just a fluke?”

Discord smirked. “Nah, that would get old quick. It'll probably just be jokes, pleasantries, and awesome stories from here on out. Now, you see that guy there?” He grabbed Derrek's shoulder and pointed into the crowd at a man who radiated an aura of command. His light grey hair was bound in a braid that hung between his shoulders, his right eye covered with a simple black eyepatch. “That's the Allfather, king shit of Norse mountain, Odin Borson.”

“Father of Thor, head of the Norse pantheon, right?”

Discord slapped him on the back. “Glad you did your homework. Ask him about the eye, might seem insensitive, but it's his favorite story to tell. Go get ‘em, tiger.” and he slapped Derrek harder, pushing him on his way toward Odin.

“Reckon he’ll be alright?” Jericho had broken off from his conversation partners and gave Discord a playful punch on the arm.

“He’s taking to it. Guy’s been around business bitches his whole life, gods aren't all that different. Similar levels of entitlement and whatnot.” He plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray, threw it back like a shot, and placed the empty glass back on the tray before the waiter even noticed.

Jericho grunted disapprovingly. “Business. Boring as hell and more suffocating than this damn tie.” He hooked a finger around his green tie and tugged, threatening to undo it completely. Discord slapped his hand away. He quickly undid it himself, and in the blink of an eye had it re-tied, looser around the neck, but still firm. He patted Jericho on the chest.

“Couldn't agree more, but this is how the world is now. Gotta roll with the punches.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jericho looked over the party, disgust flaring in his eyes. “It's just… you know how I am with civilization. More than ten people in a room and I can't fucking breathe.”

Discord patted him gently on the shoulder. “I know, bud. I promise, make it through tonight and you can go back to camping under the stars. I won't bug you for at least a month, I swear.”

Jericho glared at him suspiciously. “Last time you tried to feed me that crap you dragged me to goddamn Peru a week later. Didn't even get whatever the hell it was we went to get, and what did I get out of it? Enough mosquito bites to draw all the constellations with and the cheapest bottle of bourbon you could find!”

“Second cheapest, just the way you like it.”

Jericho blew out his nose like an angry bull. “You're an asshole. I’d kill you if I could.”

“Love you too, buddy.”

Jericho tried to keep up his annoyed act, but couldn't help a smirk creeping across his face. He punched Discord again, harder this time, but still playful. He glanced past a group of partiers, through a glass door at a woman with flowing, earthy green hair matching her dress leaning against the railing on the porch, about as far from the band as possible. Discord followed his gaze.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“She say anything?” Discord asked.

“Only that she hoped you wouldn't show.”

“Sorry to disappoint, then. Where’s the big man?”

“On the roof, couldn't find a suit big enough to fit him.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” he looked over at Derrek. Odin was at the climax of his story, miming holding a knife and gouging out his own eye. The old man loved telling that story, almost as much as the one about the mead of poetry, though that might have been too strong of an introduction. “Hold it down, and keep that tie on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Discord patted him on the back again and made his way toward Derrek.

“... I gave my eye to uncle Mimir, and he cast it into the well. I was given the Gjallarhorn and allowed to drink from its waters. And thus, I became the wisest of the Aesir.”

“Until Kvasir came around, right?” Discord smugly said. Odin rounded on him, annoyance in his eye until he saw who spoke. As soon as he recognized him, he smiled.

“Kvasir is neither Aesir nor Vanir, so my words hold true. It's good to see you, drengr.”

“I’d argue he’s both Aesir and Vanir, y’all made him out of your spit, after all.” The two clasped hands. “It's good to see you too, Havi.” He turned to Derrek. “Hope this old crow isn't boring you to death.”

“Not at all,” he said with a smile, “I love a good story.”

“I should hope so, otherwise hanging around with me would suck shit. Whatcha reckon, Havi?” He slapped Derrek hard on the back. “Did your ravens tell you right?”

Odin cast an appraising eye over Derrek, the only kind of look he had seen from him so far. After a few tense seconds, he gave the barest of grins and nodded. “If anything, they played it down. I expected someone who could go toe-to-toe with Bernmore and his braumis would be boastful, braggadocious, much like Thor. Even though they were but men, they were hunters, warriors even. It was no small feat, yet he is more interested in the exploits of others than the sharing of his own.” His grin grew into a full-blown smile. “You will be one to watch, Snowe. Of that much, I am sure.”

Derrek beamed. “I appreciate that, Allfather. Though I'm not quite a student of history, I know enough to know what that means coming from you, and I am grateful for the compliment.”

Discord barked with laughter and shook Derrek by the shoulders. “I love this guy!” He continued to laugh and shake his friend until the music changed tempo. He ceased the laughter and shaking at once, listening intently to the intense ballroom music that was now playing. He glanced over to the center of the room and Derrek followed his gaze. People had begun to gather, moving their bodies largely without rhyme or reason, some moving gracefully as swans. It could only mean one thing.

“Hells yeah!” Discord said, “Dance time!”

He steered Derrek to the gathering, who was trying to protest, but to no avail. He was no dancer, he had never danced at all that he could remember and would have been perfectly content continuing chatting with others, even if he would have had to raise his voice over the music a bit, but Discord wouldn't hear a word of it. When they reached the crowd, Derrek's shoulders were freed, and he stumbled into the center of the crowd, surrounded by men and women, enjoying themselves immensely, all smiles.

Goddamn it.

He looked around, but Discord was nowhere to be seen. Nobody was anywhere to be seen, there were too many people in the way. He wanted to get out, to be free of the suffocating crowd, to be away from the crushing weight of flesh that surrounded him. He stood in the center of it all, turning, spinning, looking for an escape, but it was like a maze. The faces didn't stay on the same bodies, he couldn't keep up. He couldn't breathe. He needed to get out. He needed-

He felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder and spun around to find himself face to face with a woman, her emerald eyes putting him instantly at ease, her earthly green hair rolling like a hilly field, the same color as her dress. Suddenly, the music didn't sound so loud, the crowd not so dense. He could breathe again. She had said something, but he wasn't sure what.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “what did you say?”

“I said,” she said with a voice like honey, “may I have this dance?”

She offered her hand out, and after a confused, nervous moment, he took it in his own. He could feel the warmth all the way up his arm, and he couldn't help but smile. She pulled closer. The music changed to a slower song, and he saw other pairs gently swaying to the tune. He realized he had been standing there, holding her hand, looking around the room for several seconds, and followed her lead. She moved the hand she was holding to her shoulder and his other to her waist, mirroring the hand placement on him. They moved in tune, if not quite in sync, but he was getting the hang of it.

“Nervous?” the woman asked. He should really learn her name.

“A little, I haven't danced in…” he thought for a moment. “I've never danced before.”

She smiled. “A first time for everything. I'm Terra, by the way, Roman goddess of the earth. I'd offer my hand, but you're already holding it. It's a pleasure to meet you, Derrek Snowe.”

“I see you've done your research,” she nodded at that, “and the same to you.”

“You throw quite the party.” She looked around her at the sanguine party-goers approvingly. “I haven't seen many of these faces in a very long time. It's good to catch up on the past from time to time.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I can't take all the credit. Truth be told, I didn't even know about this party until last Friday. All I really did was hand out a few envelopes over the week and crack the whip in the kitchen to get more shrimp out, the rest was almost entirely Discord.”

Her smile faltered at the name, just the slightest twinge at the corner of her mouth, but Derrek couldn't miss it, not when he was but inches from her face. Less than a fraction of a second, and her small, radiant smile was back in full force.

“Very few are fully responsible for that which bears their name. It seems everyone is having fun, and in the end, that's all that matters.”

The two swayed to the music, staring into each other’s eyes, living in the moment, enjoying the music. Without warning, the slow tune shifted to a more rapid flow of the same melody, and the fields of grass that were Terra’s eyes flashed with a fire. With even less warning than the music had given, she changed the tempo of their dance to match and Derrek struggled to keep up. They twirled, moving through the crowd with a grace he hadn't expected from himself. He was getting used to it, and his apprehensions washed away. They moved in perfect sync, connected through their unbroken gaze, flowing through the crowd as though it were nothing but a shower of petals. His heart raced in tune with the music which grew more rapid, more rabid, more frantic, more chaotic, more beautiful. As the song neared its peak, he took a great risk: he took the lead.

They were two warriors caught on a battlefield, locked in intense combat, both knowing their next move could be their last and treating it as such. They were the rippling tides in an endless ocean, their movements interlocking perfectly. They were the shifting sands of the desert, never stagnant, never pausing, never slowing. In that moment, they were not two strangers. They moved as one, acted as one, struck as one. As the music swelled, so did his heart, and when he felt the final moment drawing near, they spun, her dress flowing through the air like leaves on the wind, surrounding him in a whirlwind, and he planted his foot firmly on the ground and dipped her low, holding her tight in his arms as the band played their final note, the whole world silent, save for their heavy breathing.

They hadn't broken eye contact through the whole affair, and it was a shock when the crowd around them erupted in applause. It was only then that Derrek realized almost the entire floor had been cleared, leaving a circle around them big enough to land a helicopter. He looked back to Terra, and she was smiling. He lifted her back to her feet and they stood side by side, hands clasped together, and bowed to rapturous applause.

Across the room, away from attention, Discord took a swig from his flask. He was proud of Derrek, he had come such a long way from the broken corpse he met in that clearing months ago. He had overcome every challenge presented to him thus far, and just as he expected, this one was no different, even if Discord hadn’t been the one to issue it.

“Maybe it'll work out,” he muttered to himself, struggling to believe it. No one knew better than him how full of shit he was. He had been wrong so many times on so many chances, so many risks, and he knew all too well the consequences his actions held. He took another swig, looked up at the ceiling disapprovingly, and tucked the flask into his jacket. He slipped out through the side door onto the empty porch. He reached back into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, placing one in his mouth. He snapped his fingers, producing a flame at the tip of his thumb which he lit it with. He breathed deep, burning through half the tobacco with a single inhale, letting the smoke billow out like ghosts on the wind, disappearing as fast as they appeared.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

He turned to face the woman, but he already knew who it was. Her familiar deep brown eyes, her soft features showing hardly thirty years of her unknowable age. Her dark skin was as deep and rich as the most fertile soil, her hair as dense and vibrant as the rainforest. There could be no other.

“You know me well. Enjoying yourself, Gaia?”

“Immensely.”

He offered her a cigarette and she looked at him quizzically.

“They're unfiltered,” he said, shaking the box, “picked the tobacco myself. Even used biodegradable wraps. I can't stand a litterbug.”

Gaia smiled and accepted, placing it between her lips as he offered up his thumb flame, which she used to light it. She breathed it in, and let it out, more ghosts on the wind. They stayed like that for an eternity, staring into the night, enjoying the chill air as the night tightened its hold around them.

“Do you think this will be enough?”

“Dunno, that's why I have a whole pack.”

“I meant Snowe.”

“I know what I said.”

She looked at him with those eyes of hers. A crushing weight to be under her gaze, the weight of the world, but he was cursed with a strong back.

“I have to try. You know I do.”

“I do. But I also know what he could do, what he could become.” she paused as Discord snuffed out the stub of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger, wasting no time in lighting another. “I know you well enough to know you wouldn't take this risk without a good reason. I'm simply having trouble finding one.”

“What, freedom isn't good enough? Can't a man want to live without care for its own sake?”

Gaia gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Live without care? I've never pegged you as the whimsical type, but if you thought this would make for smooth waters I may have to change my opinion on you.”

Discord sighed. “Everything must come to an end, that's just the way of things. No matter how many times I kill it, it keeps coming back. My eternal enemy. My one true companion. My only friend. Only seems right to give it an honest try, to treat it as such. Havok didn't ask for this, and neither did I.” He took another long drag and let it out slow. “I am tired, Earth Mother. Don't question the burrow in which I rest.”

She did not reply but stared at him for a long time. She took one last drag of her own, grinding what remained into the railing. “I always enjoy our talks. It's refreshing to speak without pretense.” She walked to the door, and with her hand on the handle said, “Talk with me again sometime, maybe it can last longer than a smoke break.” And she was gone, reabsorbed into the revelry.

He watched that door for another eternity, hoping it would stay shut and praying she would come back all at once. He looked back out into the night, took a final drag on his cigarette, snuffed it out, flicked the remnants into the darkness, and went to the door. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, and his trademark smirk reappeared on his face, confidence and good humor radiating.

“Let's turn this bitch sideways.”

He slunk into the room like a fox through a bush, and it was as though he never left. Derrek and Terra were stationed in a couple of armchairs, talking softly over glasses of champagne. Discord wished there was more variety to the drink menu, but he himself had insisted on the colossal tower. He would have to settle for the several dozen flasks he had stashed away.

He weaved through the crowd, slapping backs and shaking hands as he passed, old friends and older enemies alike all smiling in his presence. It was only when he got to Shale that he stopped to chat, breaking him away from the conversation he was having with Mayor Graham with a firm, but strictly suggesting, hand on the shoulder.

He greeted Discord with a smile, as it seemed everyone always did, and turned back to the mayor. “Pardon me, we’ll have to pick this up later in the evening.”

“Absolutely!” The mayor said in a weary, gravel-filled voice, his wrinkled jowls jiggling heavily. He looked over to Discord. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Cartwell. Hope the horses are healthy.”

“They sure are,” Discord said with a heavy Texan accent, “Mighty kind of you to keep my business! Now, if you’d ‘scues us, I’d like a few words with ol’ Billy here.”

Graham nodded and meandered on, drifting about toward Sizlack, who was still locked in debate. Shale turned to him, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“I own two-thirds of the horses in New York, pretty much all of the ones for the mounted cops and a handful of the carriages. Hard work, but mostly pays for itself with that deal. Don’t even have to house them for the most part, gotta love leases.”

Shale nodded. “So you’re Daniel Cartwell.” he snapped his fingers. “‘D C,’ I should’ve known.”

“Damn right,” Discord said, unscrewing a flask, “it was more on the nose than a blackhead.” He took a slug, then handed it toward Shale, who discretely took it, glancing around for prying eyes. He took a sip, grimacing at the intense burn.

“What the hell is that? Drain cleaner?” he said, pushing the flask back into Discord’s hand.

“Close. Two parts Wild Turkey 101, one part Everclear with a spritz of lemon.” He took another slug. “I call it a ‘Bad Thanksgiving.’ Can you guess why?”

“Because of the Wild Turkey?”

Discord stared at him for several seconds with a blank expression on his face, blinking at irregular intervals. “That’s a much better reason,” he finally said, “I call it that because it’s ruined every Thanksgiving I’ve been invited to, but damn that’s a much better reason.”

Shale cracked a smile while Discord stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Glad to be of service.” He looked out into the party, taking in the revelry, god and human alike getting along like equals. “This isn’t quite what I had in mind for a party, but I can’t deny you did one hell of a job.”

“Well duh,” Discord said, releasing his chin, “I don’t half-ass anything. My crowd doesn’t take well to stuffy dinner parties, almost all of them asked if there was gonna be a dance floor.”

“Fair point, fair point.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the partygoers, enjoying the music. It was Shale who broke the relative silence.

“I see you didn’t invite Stephan.”

“That I did not.”

“He won’t be happy about that.”

“Fuck him then.”

Shale smiled. “Agreed. Is everything else in order?”

Discord glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Why, whatever could you mean?” He asked, words dripping with sarcasm. Shale gave him a warm-hearted glare, his brow raised in response. Discord grinned and looked back into the crowd. “You do realize the election isn’t for several more months, right? Might be a bit early to make enemies.”

Shale scoffed. “I’ve been making enemies all my life, another dozen or two won’t make a difference.”

“True that.” Discord produced a plain envelope from his jacket and discretely passed it to Shale, who quickly tucked it into his own. “Pen and paper, the modern-day sword and shield. That right there is all you’ll need, just make sure you burn it afterwards.”

Shale nodded solemnly. “I don’t like doing this, you know.”

“I know. But you gotta do what you gotta do, right? How else are you gonna make it as an independent?” He drank from his flask. “Get those names on your side and you’ll be fine. All means to an end.”

“But what if the means outweigh the ends?”

“They usually do, but promises made will be less than nothing once you sit in the biggest chair.”

“I suppose…” Shale looked out at Derrek, still enthralled in conversation with Terra. “Just don’t tell Derrek about this, alright?”

Discord’s grin grew wider. “Come on, Billy, I don’t tell him shit.”

“So what are you, exactly?”

Derrek was taken off guard and expressed it by choking on one of the tiny sandwiches the waiters were passing around. This was quite a divergence from the conversation they were having about Frostbyte’s plans for wildlife preservations, she had some ideas of potential sites, and who would know better than an earth goddess? He cleared his throat and brushed away the crumbs that had fallen on his suit jacket.

“I…” he ventured, still struggling with the crumbs in his esophagus. “I’m not entirely sure if we’re being honest.”

Terra smiled. “I insist upon it.”

“I don't exactly know the right term, but I'm not human anymore, that much I'm sure of. The term ‘Hauch Von Tod’ was thrown around a lot during my time in Germany, but I’m still not sure what it means.”

“‘Breath of death,’ if I'm not mistaken.”

Derrek blinked. “Really? I would've thought it meant ‘touch of death,’ in reference to…” he gestured to his stark white hair.

Terra nodded, her hair waving like a windblown field of grass. “Could be a translation issue, or maybe ‘Berührung des Todes’ just doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well.”

“I really need to learn German, almost all I know is how to order food.”

“You might have to learn more languages than that if you're going to keep hanging around with,” she grimaced, “Discord.”

“Some bad blood between you?”

Terra closed her eyes and took a breath. “Some. But tonight is about you, not him.”

Derrek sighed. “Tell me about it. Or don't, actually. I feel like everything that's been said tonight has either been about me as a person or me as a concept. I'm not sure which one makes me less comfortable. It's like being a painting or a fancy couch; just to be talked about, rather than to.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Terra said with a sly smile, “but wasn't that the entire point of the evening? To get all the pertinent powers together in one place for them specifically to talk to and about you?”

Derrek couldn't deny it, that was, to the letter, the plan for the evening. “You have a point,” he said after a thoughtful pause, “I didn't realize the invitations were so informative.”

Terra shrugged. “They were personalized. Different sized egos require different levels of…” she waved her hand around as if she could pluck the word she was looking for from the air.

“Tact?” Derrek offered.

“Bullshit was closer to what I was aiming for.”

Derrek chuckled. “What's the difference?”

Terra’s smirk grew into a smile. “I think I have my answer, I know exactly what you are.”

“Oh?” Derrek said with a mixture of both feigned and genuine surprise. “And what am I, exactly?”

Terra’s smile grew even wider. She leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch they sat on, gently swirling what was left of her champagne in the tall glass. “You should know, you're the expert on you, after all.”

Derrek let out air through his nose and took a sip from his glass. “Gods and their facetiousness,” he muttered.

“Former-humans and their social commentary.”

They looked at each other for what felt like forever, and Derrek grew a smile of his own. All of a sudden, it didn't feel like such a bad idea to throw a party after all.