Stones
Every structure began with a blueprint, and every wall began with stones. Once they were piled high enough, wide enough, it was less a stack of bricks and more a proper wall, and just like the workers, there were so many stones in a row even Hades was hard-pressed to count them all.
Persephone had scoffed at the wall at first, but as the stones were laid thick and high, enough to blot out the view, her annoyance turned to anger and fear. How long, she fretted, before it buried the horizon completely?
There had already been accidents when a portion of the wall collapsed—so the official reports had said; she knew the explosion of rubble was no accident. But Hades had quelled it, as he always did, and before long new bricks were in place and none could tell his work was disrupted.
Persephone wished she knew what to do, how to get her husband to look past his wall and at her once more. This wasn't what she wanted, but the crashing and pounding of pickaxes on stone drowned out her voice. If this went on, her thoughts would be buried too.