@spectormcrc
An important component to a relationship is balance. It’s integral to all dynamics, a true must have in intrapersonal connections. A lack of balance doesn’t make something destined to fail, but it’ll falter and potentially fall. For as important as it’s important, it’s also complicated. Finding it can take years, and even then it can feel slanted or tilted. There had been a time in her marriage when Layla had wondered if she and Marc would ever reach a place of even keel. His time as a mercenary had left visible effects on him, and Layla had always respected his privacy. Balancing Marc’s responsibility with her work and their married life hadn’t been easy at first. They’d never been great with communication, and emotions were often high. When they’d finally found the middle ground she desired, it hadn’t lasted long. Now, they’re in new territories. They’re both avatar’s with separate gods to serve. Layla and Marc have made a commitment to one another to put their marriage first, and they’ve been doing well lately because of it.
Of course, things aren’t just about balancing with Marc anymore. There’s Jake and Steven to factor in. Layla’s relationship with the former is fledgling; they’re on better terms now and Layla doesn’t mind spending time with the cab driver even if she hasn’t explicitly said it. And then, there’s Steven. Layla loves Steven. It’s not just that she loves Steven. She’s in love with Steven. Ever since Marc gave them his blessing, things have been going well. They share a love of history and art. The museum dates have been plentiful and their time together has an air of romance that some of her interactions with Marc lack. Their balance has been easier to find. Khonshu and Taweret are intricately tied to their lives now, but being avatar’s sometimes fade into the background. With Jake, Layla’s more likely to be in costume. With Steven, she finds herself simply as Layla more often. More often, but not all the time.
The white of the Mr. Knight suit is as bright as the moon that shines in a crescent above them. Layla has thanked the god she serves multiple times for keeping her warm despite the exposed skin that’s subjected to the night air. Like always, her dark curls remain loose around her face as she takes in the city below them. The wind keeps blowing them around, but Layla doesn’t care.
“I would almost say it’s romantic if I couldn’t hear all the cars honking.” Even from the rooftop, it’s loud. New York is always loud. Layla looks to Steven, a small smile toying at her lips. “What if we just stayed up here? No more getting shot at tonight. Would that be wrong of us?”
