NEW GODS: The Awakening

Past Midnight

Leon knew very little of the Goddess. Well, he did now have a pretty clear idea of why she was suddenly struck with the desire to visit but those were not the kind of details he was prepared to share with the stuff or could talk about in the meeting tomorrow.

For their own reasons-which they never disclosed-, the Order had decided to keep them apart.

He believed it to be a safety precaution of sorts. So, that if one of them failed to live up to the expectations they had, they would be saddled with only one failure for a God.

Leon had not cared to meet her. He had no desire to have more people around. Anything more than one gave him a headache and he already had more than a hundred.

However, the consequences of knowing very little about her were starting to show up as he prepared for her arrival.

Aside from how late she had remembered to inform them, the Order had said it would be better if they ‘did not communicate until then’. Meaning Leon had no way of learning more either.

Was this some kind of test? Endurance maybe? He was steadily going insane.

Eventually, he would be forced to make random decisions based on what felt right. Nothing annoyed him more than having to depend on sheer luck.

So, he had spent the last four hours memorizing each and every public document in existence written by those who had met her.

And with every single one, he had to waste precious time reading about how beautiful she was and how graceful and how polite and how well-spoken and the spectacular dresses and jewelry she had worn at that party or that other event.

All of that told him vey little about her. If her upbringing had been even vaguely similar to his, it was more than likely these habits had been pushed onto her. Therefore, they meant nothing.

Maybe she wore gold cause it was her favorite color but it was equally possible somebody had chosen that dress for her. Perhaps she had a fondness for diamonds and tiaras but they might have also been used to showcase her wealth and influence rather than her personal preferences in jewelry.

And even if he had an answer to all those questions, it wouldn’t matter because they made up just a small part of the tip of the iceberg.

Since it was his birthday but she was the main guest, did that mean they should decorate in bright gold in honor of the Life God or pale gold to showcase their own pride? Would it indicate weakness if they performed the celebration of her arrival and his birthday at the same time? What were they going to do if it rained? Did any of this questions even hold any weight or was he losing his mind for no reason-?

Why did his father have to decide to show up now after how many years? He had enough on his plate without having to think up of subtle ways to tell him to leave once and for all.

His pen stopped moving as his eyes caught on a picture frame on his wall. He had placed it right above his desk more than two years ago and refused to remove it despite his mother’s protests.

It was a drawing of a dragon. A glorious beast with gigantic teeth, blood red scales and piercing violet eyes. The small pink heart drawn on the lower right corner both did not fit the drawing’s theme whatsoever and signified it as an artwork of Damian.

He never had that much of a fascination with dragons. But Dame did. There was a time when they were all he could talk about. That drawing was his first attempt at depicting one.
It wasn’t a bad one, but if dragons looked remotely like that one, he had no interest in meeting one.

He looked at the painting and remembered hazel eyes gleaming as Damian handed it to him. The frown on his lips softened.

That idiot was probably planning to come in through the window again.