Sonia was being watched.
Three figues sat in a small backstreet cafe. One was looking across the alley at her, up on her perch. One was looking at that one with the sort of bile fascination given to madmen. The last regarded the other two with quiet serenity of a snowy mountain.
The second one, a Durhian, immaculately dressed in a suit of blue and expensive rings sparkling on each delicate finger, managed to find his voice again and chuckled. "A fine joke, brother. You had me going for a second there.
The first man, a Rhean, brown leather jacket as out of place in this climate as the goggles hanging from his neck were eveywhere else, turned to his brother and smiled. "Oh, I'm dead serious."
"No, you're not." said the Duhian, calmly draining the last of his coffee. "It's to audacious, even for you."
"Audacious is my middle name." replied the Rhean confidently."
The Durhian put his cup down perhaps a little to forcefully. "Lets entertain, for the moment, that she is not so offended that she smites you on the spot and curses the company for your impudence. She's a goddess. A literal goddess. She's out of your league."
"Three things." The Rhean says, holding up three clawed fingers. "First, Spectropolis. She can't outright smite me."
"Feh," said the Durhian, making a dismissive gesture.
"Let me finish." The Rhean replied sternly. "Second: just look at her. Is that the face of a woman who would curse a whole company for the actions of a single meathead?"
The Durhian took a good look. He did have to admit, it would be out of character.
"Thirdly," the Rhean continued, "The fact that she's 'out of my league' actually works to my advantage."
The Durhian leaned forward, interested. "How do you figure?" he said, bridging his fingers.
"Everyone who's ever thought about what I'm about to do, had that thought immediately afterwards. 'She's out of my leuge.'"
The Durhian nodded along. That was entirely within reason.
"I'm willing to bet that thought stopped most of them in their tracks. In fact, I'd bet good money that no one, no mortal at least, has ever straight up asked her out."
The Durhian considered this. "What about.... other gods?" He asked slowly.
"If she was with another god, what is she doing alone in Spectropolis on a festival day?" The Rhean countered, spreading his arms as if daring his brother to challenge that logic.
Faced with such a challenge, the Durhian deferred. "What do you think, Yon?"
The pair faced their silent companion, a large Milteo. Despite their differing species the earth brown skin, jet black hair, and ruby red eyes made no mistake about these three mens relationship possible.
Yon, the third brother of this little group, cupped his head in one massive hand and went deep into thought. The two waited patiently while the Milteo ran the proposal under the millstone of his brain. Then, he raised the specialty camra in his other hand, hit the button, and a bright flash filled the room.
The other two waved their hand in front of their faces, trying desperately to get their sight back. When they were finished, Yon answered, simply and plainly, "You're going to die."
The Durhian considered this, before standing up and straightening his tie. "Well," he said, checking his breath. "I certainly have no intention to let my baby brother face his death alone."
Nodding to one another the Durhian and the Rhean, as one, paid, walked outside, and stroled across the street. Along the way they played a quick game of paper, rock, scissors, which the Rhean promptly lost.
"Excuse me, your grace!" The Duehian called up to the goddess. "Me and my brother were wondering if you might grace us with your company."
Hey son, wanna' learn how ta' make witch balls?
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