11 How I Met My Wife (pt. 2)

"A lot of bad mojo here," Roland observed with a mild tone.

He sat atop the deck of a small ship that soared steadily through the sky. The aircraft was a high-grade artifact Abigail had brought out for their little trip to the nearby city. It was twenty feet long with sails it didn't need as it relied solely on their own wills and energy to fly.

Roland rested on an ornate chair with very comfortable cushioning and talked with Abigail, this time mentioning the graveyard of cursed weapons many meters below them.

This was obviously the place of a great battle some years in the past. Only odd thing was that it existed in the first place. Cursed weapons needed copious amounts of power along with being exposed to great negative emotions to create. The latter was easy enough to find, especially in a battlefield like this. The souls of the fallen would have already been taken to the spirit realm, however often times they'd leaved behind "waste." Their fears, anger, regrets.

But the former was the problem, at least in this case. Not that it was very hard to make one, a cursed weapon. It was the fact so many were down there that caused him to raise a brow.

The entire battlefield was literally covered in thousands of cursed objects. Roland could hear them, their voices all mingling together in a haunting cacophony of rage, pain and resentment. It was like having a hive of locusts in your head.

"The locals stay away from here." Abigail leaned over the railing casually. The tip of their vessel was narrow and they sat quite close to the front so there wasn't much wiggle room. Despite this she chose a position where her ass was further back than it needed to be, a sideways L that placed a shapely rear square in his line of sight.

The woman's tight pinstripe pants only barely contained her plump bottom. And the way she slowly moved it from side to side right then almost seemed like an invitation. It was enticement if nothing else.

She surely knew he was watching and Roland couldn't tell from this angle but he was almost certain she was smiling playfully at the knowledge. Roland was no stranger to these little games, however, and therefore wasn't at all mindful. He merely appreciated the view for a moment before coming up beside her.

"When the gods first discovered the planet their historians took interest in the stories they heard from the natives. Apparently, a very powerful entity battled here once upon a time. The residual energy from his attacks turned the equipment of his enemies into what they are today."

Roland looked down and couldn't help being a little impressed. "To be capable of giving life to so many cursed objects...although they're low-grade, it's still amazing."

"Isn't it though?" She conjured a cigarette from somewhere and Roland generously lit it. "Thanks."

"So any guess what this entity was?"

She waved him off. "Oh, you'll never believe it anyway. But the stories are interesting. This is a planet rather rich in energy even now, and there's evidence of it being more so in the past. So the levels of power it's inhabitants used to be capable of achieving was pretty high. The dead? We estimate most of them were at least at a power similar to Immortals. One person against an army like that would be an interesting tale anywhere in the Mortal Plane. Of course, that's only if the records of the natives are accurate. I doubt it. Still, a fun topic."

"It's certainly something to think about." Roland agreed. "I suppose every planet needs to have it's share of legends and heroes."

"I don't know if this guy could be called a hero." Abigail chuckled lightly. "He's more a villain if anything."

"Oh?"

"Yep. Basically guarded a "great calamity" from being destroyed. A protector of evil and all that."

"Evil." Roland snorted. "Right."

"What, are you not a big believer in good and bad?"

Roland shrugged. "The definitions are so damn arbitrary that it doesn't matter. There's hardly a universal standard either."

"What about Karma?"

"Karma is a judgemental bitch with too much power. It's impossible to be good with that strict a taskmaster."

And it was more personal anyway. People punished themselves. Deep down even the most twisted of individuals knew what they deserved. They can pretend otherwise, but deep in their soul the weight of their sins would be what really tipped the scales. You can lie to everyone else, but not to yourself. Not really.

That's how Karma decided. How light or heavy you are. If it was truly up to her, with her requirements? No one would ever be considered a decent person. Her standards were simply that insane, and it's not an exaggeration.

You'd have to live apart from all other forms of life. Ever kill a bug? Congratulations, you're a murder. One million years of torture.

A homeless orphan stealing spoiled food just so you and your family can survive? You're a no-good thief. One million years of torture.

Your abusive husband hit you one too many times and you fall in mutual love with someone else who treats you right? Have sex and whoops. Both you and your new, loving partner are now adulterers. Sentence? You guessed it, one million years of torture!

Like Roland said. Karma is a judgemental bitch. She doesn't give a single fuck what the situation is. What reasons you have. Sin is sin, period.

Luckily she doesn't have a say to that extent, thank the heavens for that. Maybe you become a toad in the next life or whatever, but that's it. Karma oversees a system of reward and punishment, a big part of that being reincarnation.

Sometimes she also has power over connections between people, but events and happenings is more the jurisdiction of Fate.

Fate? He'll decide what happens to you. He sets events in place, good or terrible, and they form who you are.

You? You decide how you handle those things. Based on what choices you make in relation to Fate's planned events, that determines the kind of person you are. This is where your free will comes into play.

Karma? She decides the consequences--or merit and reward--of your choices.

Still, if it was all decided by her it would be very, very difficult for Mortals to come out on top. Mortals because real immortal beings such as True Gods don't face this cosmic system. They rarely die, after all, and certainly not from old age.

True Gods, like Loki, simply….fade. Cease, returning to Creation. Sometimes this is voluntary, during times when they finally well and truly decide they no longer wish to exist. When from every fiber of their being they have had enough of living.

Other times its not quite voluntary in the same way. They just slumber too long and forget themselves. Not remembering how to create physical bodies, not caring to or even not remembering who they are. Losing their sense of individuality.

"Careful there, you'd bad-mouthing a cosmic being of the highest order." Abigail frowned.

"If you think I'll be struck by lightning, feel free to move away." He replied calmly. His gaze rested for a moment on those charming pink lips.

Abigail looked at him through half-closed eyes. Her mouth curved slowly into a crescent moon. Standing this close to each other gave her a very strange feeling. Her entire body felt charged. It was like there was this electric current running between them.

She'll admit, looking at him was hard. It's like seeing a delicious treat from outside a store's window. It was right there, just out of reach, but no amount of yearning would make that glass disappear.

He had a very appealing smell, too, she noticed. Now that he didn't have the stink of loose Nightmare on him.

It really wasn't fair. Heavens know it's been years since she'd gotten any so just watching him stand there, looking like a snack ready to be eaten, was enough to make her moist.

She wondered if he wanted to take a bite out of her, too. From how calm he looked, though, she couldn't tell. And that was making her just a little annoyed.

But Abigail wouldn't let herself be the one to have her feathers ruffled first. So seeing his steady expression she only laughed and replied with a, "I'm fine where I am, thanks. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I left you to the dogs like that?"

"Hm." He gave no indication that he even heard her. He just offered a vague, amused smile and said, "You're horny."

Abigail almost spat out blood. How direct! She was starting to resent these unnaturally acute senses of theirs.

"No need to be embarrassed. It's a very pleasant scent. The smell of desire suits you well."

"You know, its common courtesy to not point out things like that!" She wanted to find a hole to hide in. But she was not to be done in by the guy without a fight. "Although If you're going to be bold I see no reason why I can't be either."

And with that Abigail enacted her plan. Grinning, she stepped towards him and used her hands like walls, trapping him between her arms as she gripped the railing behind him. As their heights were similar it wasn't hard for her to do what came next: A surprise kiss to the lips.

She knew he let her do it, too, and that gave her courage. Without bothering to hold back she pressed herself against him. And he obviously wasn't one to stay passive either. His tongue was quite….active.

The man tasted like something that could turn good girls bad.

Sadly Abigail couldn't enjoy the experience right now. She'd prefer to thoroughly savor him had she the time. But, well….

"Just so you know, we've arrived."

She placed a hand over his chest. And just as she was about to push him off...

"Lead the way then." Roland grabbed hold of her collar and, before she could react, jumped off the ship with her.

***

"You." Abigail coughed. "Are an asshole." Their landing hadn't been fun. A drop from hundreds of feet in the air was not something one would be capable of enjoying too often. Because they'd likely be dead the first time.

"Says the person who wanted to push me off the ship. Quite the petty little thing, aren't you?"

"Little?" Abigail felt insulted. She indignantly crossed her arms, emphasizing her considerable assets.

The pinstripe coat she'd been wearing had become unwearable due to the fall and she'd taken it off. The white shirt underneath was missing a few buttons as well but she didn't really mind as to be honest it was a bit of a relief. It was restricting. She's not sure why she even bothered trying to appear professional at this point with a "boss" like Loki.

From now on maybe she should stick to pajamas and sweats. Perhaps a tracksuit. Looking presentable simply isn't worth the hassle.

"Maybe not so little," Roland nodded. He admired her unkempt appearance. The pants had also become torn due to the fall. It made one side entirely ruined, exposing a single long and milky leg. "Would you like a change of clothes?"

"Gee, thanks." She replied monotonously. After being the one to cause the destruction of her nice suit it was the least he could do. She couldn't just walk around like this, now can she?

Normally she could have reinforced the clothing but this bastard had somehow blocked the flow of energy in her body for a moment or two just as they hit the ground.

Although to his credit he DID also erect a very fine yet durable shield along her skin to protect her. She didn't need this, and he probably knew that, but he didn't seem to want to risk her being injured regardless.

It was an insignificant detail by all accounts and yet it still touched her just a little bit.

"Surprisingly enough women tend to ruin their clothing a lot when I'm around."

Wow. Now that could have several meanings. "Oh, sure." She spoke sarcastically. "Sorry, but I don't know. You're premium stock, but I don't think you're at the level of orgasm on sight." Not quite. Though...hm. Maybe not so far off. Or maybe it was just her. After all it really had been a while since she'd met a male who wasn't a childish piece of trash with too much time on his hands. Or whom she wanted to strangle.

"I meant something more like that. " He pointed at her battered attire. "For some odd reason women's clothes never seem to live long while I'm on the scene."

"Do you keep a range of options on you then?"

"I've developed the habit of bringing some, yes. Would you care for a similar suit or would you prefer something else?"

"Fuck it, you got anything loose and comfy?"

"You look like you'd be cute in a snuggie."

"What's that?"

"Basically a wearable blanket."

"A man after my own heart. I'll take it."

Roland snapped his fingers and a large blue snuggie appeared over her head, sliding gently over her entire person.

Abigail grinned widely as she felt the soft material. It was so warm, too!

"It feels like it's just come out of the dryer. Oh heavens. I feel like eating a tub of ice cream and taking a nap."

Roland saw movement under the enormous piece of cloth. "Are you…?"

"Don't judge me." Abigail discarded her wrecked clothing and immersed herself in the snuggie's warmth with her bare skin.

She hugged herself with a sigh. Her nose caught a faint whiff of something familiar. It smelled like him.

Roland suddenly remembered, having also caught the smell. "I think may have used it once. Let me just--"

He was about to perform a cleansing spell but was stopped by a raised hand from the other party.

"It's cool, I don't mind."

"No, but it'll only take a moment."

"Fuck off."

Roland's brows scrunched up. "Fine, have it your way." Roland sighed, relenting. Then performed the spell anyway.

"You bitch. I liked the smell."

"I don't like the thought of you sniffing it."

"I wouldn't have sniffed it." Much. Look, is it so bad that she liked the smell? It's not like it was dirty.

"Can you please just hurry up and take us to the meeting place? People are staring." Roland jerked a thumb behind them. They'd landed in the middle of a city with tall, towering skyscrapers and had attracted a lot of attention.

"Oh, right." She nodded. "Okay. Lets play follow the leader." Abigail started walking off. As she passed the crowd parted.

"Looks like the guard is here." Roland sensed several quasi-Immortal level energy signatures bearing down on them.

"Shit. I forgot we had to report our entrance into the city."

"No worries, I already knocked them out." Roland saw no less than four figures drop from the sky just then. He looked down and tapped on the ruined ground. It immediately began repairing itself, now returning to it's original appearance.

"Neat." Abigail commented. "What about them?" She gestured to the throngs of people who…"Wait, what the hell?"

Everyone was now going about their business and paying them no mind at all.

"They notice us but are forgetting as soon as they look away. It's a simple spell I came up with a while back."

"That's actually pretty smart." She was impressed.

"Thanks. After you," He urged her forward.

***

Abigail had led them to a certain building. It was hundreds of floors high with a statue of a golden basilisk coiled around the entire building and looking over the city with disdain.

This was supposedly the meeting spot. Roland looked around in boredom when he heard a cry.

"Grace~" It was Abigail who shouted jubilantly, arms raised as she ran through the crowd. She then tripped, fell down, and rubbed her nose pitifully. He was about to go help her when he spotted a girl with snow-like kneeling down and checking on her.

Cute kid, he thought.

He walked towards them in no hurry when he felt it. An eerie sense of….something. He looked further up ahead near the building's entrance.

Roland found another person with snow-colored hair. A tall, statuesque beauty. No, beautiful wasn't enough. Ethereal was more apt a description. A woman so attractive and bewitching that she didn't seem like a real person. She had a phantom-like quality, a haunting charm that burrowed into your soul and made you fearful of its fatal beauty.

She was perfection.

And she was staring right at him. Two ruby-red eyes catching him in their sights and refusing to let go. His entire being warned him of the danger.

This was his first time truly meeting the woman, but he was sure. This was the Morrigan! A goddess of death and birth. One of the most troublesome goddesses with a rich history among the Tuatha De Danann.

All of a sudden she disappeared. Roland was rammed into.

A pair of arms wrapped around his own and squeezed him.

"Husband." The woman clutched the back of his shirt tightly. That one word shook with undeniable pain and sorrow, but also love.

"...Do I fucking look like that little Dagda cunt?"