"Really?" Saros asked, looking incredibly dubious as she led the way. "A god finding me cool. That's like suggesting the King would find an accountant 'cool'." She shook her head, reaching up to readjust the mask as it slipped a bit. Her strange eyes scanned the halls, in a way that suggested she knew her way around.
Marcus trailed lazily after her, not too worried about being caught. He had been once. This second time he’d use some divine power of his and get them both out. “It’s possible, love. Don’t knock it down.” He replied simply. “More gods find interest in humans than you’d think. Especially those criminals. God you just gotta love them~” he grinned brightly. Criminals upped his mischievous powers. Which was why he was hanging around with a gang. That and he was plain bored.
"Don't call me that." Saros said almost immediately, growing quiet again to listen to him talk. "Uh huh. So, gods like criminals. Least that makes me feel less special." She made a face, her lips pulling up into a slight sneer at the idea of being 'special', as she put it. Her goal was to get through life and have some fun, not become some pawn in a god's game.
"What? Love? Why not? Would sweetheart suit you better?" He asked teasingly, perking up a little. Did he find some way to annoy her already? If this girl wasn't aware of what and who she was exactly to a god, he'd provoke her until her protecting god appeared. He wanted something to do and annoying some higher god sounded rather fun. This was going to be the first interesting thing he'd do in a few thousand years. "Mhm, some happen to love criminals, other's seem to hate them. I'll tell you the gods of mischief love the criminals they hang around."
"Neither is just fine." Saros said, her easy going look closing off slightly as something flickered in her expression. It was gone so quickly that it could easily be passed off as nothing, especially with the mask. Both words had entirely different connotations in her mind, neither very good. From bittersweet memories to things she wanted to block out of her mind for good. "Oh good, so there are gods out there who hate me. Thrilling."
Marcus snickered. He really was getting nowhere fast with her. “Mm did I ever get your name?” He asked sweetly. “I need to have something to call my savior as.” He watched her curiously as they walked, the god rubbing at a rather painful bruise on his wrist. Thankfully for him, the long sleeves hid the large amount of self harm he had put upon himself. “Oh hun you need to get that out of your mind. The gods are rather wonderful.” He said, mimicking an older woman’s voice. He was pretty good at. But it was definitely not because he used his powers or anything. “All gods need you.”
"Call me Rip." Saros said cooly, turning down a hallway as she continued deeper into the compound. There are an insane amount of levels here. Who the hell built this? She fiddled with her mask, not liking how long she had been wearing it. It felt weird. "The gods don't need me, and I don't need them. We've got a mutual un-needingness when it comes to each other."
“Lighter.” He said, thrusting his thumb into his chest. “World-class mischief maker and widely known as a suicidal being.” He joked. But it was true. He really was rather suicidal. The thought that he could actually kill himself in this body both terrified and relieved him. He could end it and be reincarnated or something. “That’s no fun.”
"Neither is becoming a pawn. So I'll avoid the gods and they'll avoid me, and everything'll be fine." She said, resisting the urge to ask what kind of name 'Lighter' was, as though her own nickname wasn't weird and not even a real name. "They don't need me fucking up their plans, and I don't need them fucking up mine. Down here." Another stairwell.
He rolled his eyes. If only she knew how deep she actually was into the gods’ lives. Protected by the god of Thievery and currently helping the god of Mischief escape. “Alright, Alright.” He replied, his tone bored as he lit another cigarette and followed after her. “Mm what are you looking for anyways?”
"Stuff and things, things and stuff." She sang, regaining some of that easiness she had had earlier as she led the way down the stairs, still nursing the same cigarette. Like it might very well be the last one she would get. "Wonderful things, but they're never enough."
“Are you talking about the cigarettes?” He asked with a raise of his brow. “It’s not good to be hooked on them like that.” Said the hypocritical god who had literally already gone through a box that day. “But if it makes ya happy go for it.” He shrugged and sighed deeply.
"The thing, not the cigarettes, but maybe those too. When you know you can't get them often, you learn to savor them." She said, shrugging a shoulder as they exited the stairwell onto what should have been the last floor. If the floor plan was right. Four doors down and three to the left.
"Ah," He replied simply, "I get mine fairly often." He bugged another higher god to help him get the more savory cigarettes - the flavored ones. He glanced around, taking in the different energies and views. He didn't like the place. It gave him bad vibes. "Who exactly are these people?" He murmured gently. He had been 'human' for so long he hardly knew the state of the gods at the moment and what they were dealing with.
"I can't afford to." Saros turned left down the last hallway, something dark and foreboding writhing in her gut. Thief's sixth sense. "Bad people. Some nasty gang, I think. My employer didn't tell me a whole lot about them, just enough to get what I need-ah ha." This lock was a bit more complicated. Luckily, no lock was too tough for the thief and her trusty lockpick. She flicked her wrist, the lockpick reappearing in her hand, and set to work. "Keep an eye out."
"Need a supplier?" He asked gently. "Bad people is a relative term, honey." The god turned around, watching from the corner of his eye as she worked. He relied more heavily upon his power, letting it scan for the souls of another being or creature around. He caught a few mice and a dog or two, but nothing too human like.
"I can't afford 'em, I told you that. And I know it is. But there are levels of bad and certain criteria before being considered more than an illegally acting nuisance." She bobbed her head side to side as she worked the lock, feeling along the teeth and playing with the clicks they made when pressed right.
"I'm offering for free." He replied. "I told you I had some connections. I don't even pay for my cigarettes." He replied moodily, cursing his serotonin deprived brain for giving him such mood swings. "Ah but you are correct. So these people are pretty high on the 'bad' list?" He asked gently, watching her work for a little bit. "Mm, impressive." He replied softly before his face and body language hardened again, a hand running through his ginger hair.
"Nothin's free in this life." She murmured, ignoring the moodinesss in his tone. "Yeah, they are. Bad enough t' make me want to fuck up their plans, for a reason other than fucking something up." With a final click, the door swung open, a wicked and slightly proud grin lighting up the thief's face. "Now, this low down means important things. Which means that lock ain't the only thing in my way."
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Alright then, what do you want to pay me with if you can’t take them for free.” He replied with a frown. The moody male didn’t reply to her next phrase, sauntering after her once the door was opened. “Isn’t that how it always is? What’s so important down here or whatever?”
"Do you take leather wallets as payment?" She asked jokingly, stopping just inside the door after carefully stepping over the almost invisible wire along the floor without looking down. "Kintyaka xe Reeziuz. Scroll of Titans." She said, by way of explanation. She dug around the pocket of her vest, making a face as she moved to the pockets of the dark blue shorts. "Cover your mouth and nose."
“I take pretty much anything, honey.” He returned with his own laugh. He gracefully stepped over the line and hummed. Human contraptions and traps were fun. “Ah, do you have another trick up your sleeve?” He asked softly, placing his sleeve-covered hand over his nose and mouth anyways. Mortal bodies were strange. They were harmed in strange ways.
"Always. I make a habit of keeping at least three up my sleeve at all times." Saros said, pulling a small vial of something from her pocket. She uncapped it, dumping half of the contents out on her hand, and without warning, blew out a puff of air, scattering the loose powder around the room.
Marcus watched with narrowed eyes as the powder flew into the air, wondering what it was supposed to reveal. He had his fair share of powders but most were poisons. He took pride in his knowledge of those powders. But this was definitely not one of them.
The powder filled the room, clouding it slightly but making something else visible. All of the red lasers criss crossing around the room, protecting the various items and shelves scattered about. "Ah, trusty baby powder. What would I do without you." Saros murmured to herself, grinning like a fool now. After a brief moment of deliberation, she plucked off her mask, revealing the rest of her face and giving her an increased sight range in her peripherals.