Maria
. E R I S 
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Title: Where Chaos Collides
Location: Red XXX District: VIP
Characters: Eris and Dinlas
Pings: 
Notes: 
Soundtrack: 

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Soft melodies of background music pulsed against the headache that had formed in Eris' brain as she tapped her pen rapidly against the notebook in front of her. The persistent nature of the pounding like a rhythmic reminder of the lack of sleep and chaos the world currently held. The impasse had become like a fissure in the back of her head and while she knew she could easily make it go away with a mere thought, it posed as a warning. 

Eris slammed her laptop closed and stood from the seat. She had been working on underground happenings for the past hour. The status of balance even in the bookkeeping was a constant reminder of potential failures. It had been weeks since the gala and days since even a whisper of rebellion had found its way to her spies. The dormant war was disappointing and she quickly needed to think of a way to spruce things up. She picked up the martini glass, quickly swallowing the contents before throwing it at the back wall. The small bouts of anger not even touching the pain.

The bartender flinched as it shattered and covered the floor beside him. She didn't bother to apologize to him. He had been standing there washing dishes and bathing in her annoyance for less than ten minutes and had barely been able to look at her. His fear radiates off like a beaten puppy. 

"Clean it up." Eris growled under her breath. She turned towards the door to the back rooms and rubbed her temples as she walked. "Once you are done, you're fired." 

A woman with short bright red hair popped out of the shadows, walking next to Eris as she quickly spoke. Eris prevented herself from rolling her eyes as she listen to the shrill voice, a look of concern on written on the girls face. Heather was fairly new, the third one in the past three months and despite her facial expressions and awful voice, she had been the best yet.

"What is it?" Eris continued to walk, focused on reaching her office and locking it before anyone else could trespass on her fifteen minutes of solitude. 

"You have a guest in the V.I.P. Area." She looked at Heather, narrowing her eyes as the curiosity sunk in. 

"And who may this guest be?" 

"He wouldn't say, Throwing open the large double doors and down the long corridor, leaving Heather behind. The red and pink colors of the club quickly faded to red and black hues of seduction and intrigue. The hallway led to intricate parts of the club, each dealing with their own sins and opportunities for intrigue and discord. 

The dark interior of the club was meant to create a time flux. The idea that it was always after dark within the confines of the Red XXX District led mortals and mystics alike to never want to leave. The small hallucination mixed with red lotus shots were a sure fire way to loop people into the chaos of debutchury. Eris had loved the idea when she had come up with it but soon she had limited their interactment together. Far to many people who either took advantage of her business or couldn't pay up. 

Eris walked up the stairs, the balcony over looking the club was secluded and shielded from the eyes of anyone on the lower floor but the ability to watch, to speculate those below was worth money. More than she had originally thought. It had helped exponentially when she added the silk show. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked to the far end of the balcony, pushing the red curtains to the side. Black combat boots instantly stood out, resting on the very expensive coffee table. Her eyes followed the length of his body, quickly finding his face. 

"Dinlas."
Beverly
Every step he had to take outside his familiar realm of quiet afterlife pissed him off—but not as much as that very same quiet did. There was a gods-damned war up here being fought by none other than the forces that control every bit of fabric this world was weaved out of it. He had stewed over it for quite some time, and could for generations to come and go in a blink of an eye, but anymore stewing and the pot would boil over. He was silverware in the microwave; spinning around and around and going nowhere only to explode in sparks and shards of rusted, mid-century metal. 

The club was dark. Good. In combination with the polarized sunglasses concealing his eyes, perhaps he'd go unrecognized (not like the reclusive god was popular in the first place). No, Dinlas rarely got out, because when he did, shit was likely going down. Otherwise, this world bored him with its mundane predictability. He would never admit that the sunglasses that clung to his collar now that he had made his way to VIP lounge made navigating the dimly-lit space all that more difficult... Nor would he admit the tiniest bit of relief fell over him when a member of the staff had pointed him in the right direction. The feeling was fleeting, disappearing as soon as she dared open her mouth and ask him for his name. The glare behind the glasses told her all she needed to know. 

In the lounge, he felt far more at ease without passing glances catching him in their sweeps over the club. Down below, the soft hum of the night filled the air with white noise. Dinlas' mind drifted a bit while he awaited his audience. What sorts of debauchery had he passed by on his way up here? He imagined all the wild things he may have missed in the swirling mass of bodies. Perhaps someone was meeting their end, asphyxiated by the sweet aroma of the club and the pure silk necktie crushing their windpipe softly and slowly. It was an exciting thought: surrounded by chaos born from overindulgence.

A thought that was swiftly dismissed as the sound of approaching footsteps rose above the hum. Two pairs, Dinlas picked up, both rushed, but one was far more powerful than the other. Angrier. As he relaxed into the plush furniture, feet up on the table besides an untouched cocktail, he prepared himself mentally for a meeting between gods. 

The woman swatted away the curtains that had secluded the room. Behind her, the second pair of footsteps halted before the threshold. He wouldn't sit up straight or move to greet her where she stood. Instead, Dinlas met her ferocious eyes poker-faced. 
"Eris." The owner of this here establishment and the very woman he had come to see. 

||
Maria
Plump red lips lifted in a small smirk as Eris leaned down and pushed his feet off of the table. His carefree demeanor matching the lax way he lounged on the couch in obvious boredom. She met his dark eyes with her vibrant green as her name came from his lips. The subtle tilt of her head to the side made her blonde hair fall from her shoulder as she narrowed her eyes at him. It had been a moment since she had seen the god of hatred, her counterpart in chaos, and now the bastard child of Ares and Aphrodite sat before her like he owned the place. His dark attire and appearance were a compliment to the red interior and sultry lighting. The underworld had taken Dinlas and coated him in their abyssal fashion; painting him in the same dark hues in which Eris was birthed from. A piece of home in the form of an angsty god. 

Eris wanted to laugh at the whole predicament now as his parents basked in their infidelity like a proud accomplishment. Their selfishness evident in the man before her. While she had her own relations with both god and goddess, she also felt a kindred spirit to Dinlas. Both having grown up in the underworld, either unwanted or rarely acknowledged. Only chaos would want discord, only strife would seek hatred. 

"Leave us," She turned to the frozen assistant and waved her hand in dismissal. Their conversation may not need to be private but she was growing tired of the assistant's insistent company. Eris stepped into the small enclave and shut the curtains behind her before a word could be spoken. The thick fabric deafening the reverb of the club, calming the subtle pulse of her mind even as the music played in a soft hum. Eris stepped around the table and sat next to the god, crossing her legs and angling her body in his direction. Comfortability in familiarity.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She knew if chaos was visiting discord, things were truly as bad as she thought. The migraine that she had let aggravated her like a moth to a flame; seeking a remedy.