Sublustrum.
Hel took a nervous sip of her whiskey and ran trembling fingers through her messy hair. You won't have to wait for long... the words echoed through her mind, yet there she was, waiting and no sign of Loki. Her breath hitched and she tried to calm herself down. The past hours were about nervous trembling, smoking, drinking whiskey, then coffee, then whiskey again, and more smoking. The floor was covered with some of the Milton's possessions she had already gotten hold of: old maps, books, some weird looking artifacts. Hel tried to study those, but was on the edge of a break down. Nicholas had to be stopped. Had to be killed and stripped of his power! But if Loki failed, then baby brother'd come after her, and would not rest. He'd feed her soul to a demon and use her body as a stuffed toy. Argh. No. Loki had to win, he just had to! "There is no way a sorcerer like him can lose, no way," the woman tried to calm herself and lit yet another cigarette after she placed her glass on the floor. She looked like a mad scientist who was so close yet far from a break-through: her eyes glistening with a set of dark emotion, heart was beating erratically, mind was working in a most unusual of ways, as she struggled to focus on the ways to find immortality.
