Ishitar
“Another?” He asks, pushing the bottle lightly toward me
with the tips of his fingers. “I
couldn’t sleep if I wanted to.” He
shrugs. “My mind is spinning. Too much information and not enough of it to
provide me with answers.”
“What
answers are you seeking?”
Although I cannot read his thoughts, I already
know his response and he senses this. I’ve
lived long enough among mortals to understand that they are, above all else,
very often predictable.
He
continues to stare at me with his blind gaze from behind his dark glasses. His lips twitch slightly as he raises his
hand to run it through his short, salt and pepper hair.
As with
all men, be they mortals or Gods, he eventually lower’s his gaze, unable to
bear my regard.
“I want
to know where Ishitar went.” He
mutters. “I want to know what happened
to Iladrul’s baby. And I want to know if
Loki ousted Noliminan from his throne.”
I
chuckle lightly at that last bit.
“No one
knew, for some time, what became of Ishitar.”
I reply, trying, now, not to smile.
“He was meant to go to a human family.”
His brow furrows slightly. “He chose
not to.”
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