Chapter Text
Ruling the Underworld was a boring duty. Of course, it could be exciting at times, but most of the time it was very boring. Moira leaned back into her sharply hewn throne with a sigh, wine glass dangling from one hand. She was dressed in a smart black suit, black shirt, black tie. All just as sharply cut as her throne and impossibly free from creases and other imperfections. It was incredible what you could achieve fashion-wise when you were a God.
She drained her wine glass, setting it. down on the steps. Another thing about the Underworld, she thought, is that it's lonely. Well, maybe lonely isn't the right word. She mused on the subject while a skeletal servant collected her discarded glass. After all, there were a trillion souls here, the soul of everyone who had ever lived. And yet, they were all incredibly boring! And here she was, back at the crux of the issue, in that maybe she wasn't so much bored as she was lacking in the warmth of others. But perhaps Moira hadn't yet realized this.
Lost in thought, she completely missed the meek entrance of another servant, standing before her clutching a note in his ghostly hand. He stood there for a minute, politely waiting for his mistress to notice him. Her hair, red as embers, flickered almost imperceptibly as she pondered mysteries unknown to him.
He gave a nervous cough.
"Oxford, what?" Her mismatched eyes flickered towards his as she abruptly sat up straight, acting as though she hadn't just been startled.
"A note, my Lady, from Lord Jack. Tracer awaits your return reply in the annex." Oxford held the note out to her as she took it from him coolly, making a concentrated effort to avoid putting her fingers through his ghost flesh. This was how Oxford knew that despite her brusque personality and the occasional temper, Lady Moira truly respected the dead who served her, in a way that many of her fellow Gods did not.
Moira snorted. The note was a summons from her youngest brother, Jack, self-proclaimed King of the Gods and the Lord of Lightning. He requested her prescence in a meeting with their other brother and Lord of the Seas, Gabriel.
"Why must I always travel there, Oxford? She asked, annoyed. "Why don't my brothers ever come to visit me here?" But she knew the answer; it was too dreary down there, too much a reminder that they had shafted Moira out of sunlight and happiness in order to eternally grant her an essential duty that no one had wanted.
There were some serious problems in her family.
Oxford politely deigned to answer the question, knowing better. "Would you like me to return a response, my Lady?" He inquired.
Moira crunched the note in her hands, rising. "I'll deliver it myself." She strode down the stone hallway, veins of every perceptible ore glistening in the torch light as her footsteps echoed loudly in the emptiness of the vast area.
Moira threw open the doors of the annex and strode powerfully in. Tracer was just inside the doorway, buzzing around cheerfully with the help of the little wings on her sandals. Sometimes she made Moira feel dizzy.
"Oi dreary-bones, you got a return message? I've got a lot more to deliver, no time to waste." There was no bark in Tracer's bite, the woman was much too silly to take seriously, yet she still rankled Moira. The embers in her hair, still barely visible, burned just a little bit brighter.
"Yes, I've got important things to do too." Moira snapped, holding her hand out for pen and paper. Placing it against the wall, she paused for a minute to consider scrawling "Go fuck yourself" across the page. She bemusedly thrust that thought aside, writing a quick message announcing she would arrive at Mount Olympus as soon as suited her schedule (no need for them to know she had nothing planned). There was no point in making her already unfavorable position worse, and dear Jack did have quite the temper. There would be more subtle ways to screw with him at the gathering.
"Here you are." She said, handing the materials back to the waiting messenger, who tapped her heels together and disappeared with nary a goodbye.
Moira frowned at the rudeness as she turned to walk back to her throne, wondering just how long she could make them wait...