Persephone pushed away the wineglass and turned her head away from
Hades haughtily.
Once the initial fear had passed, Persephone realized the god did not intend her any harm. Where she had been submissive and meek, she turned icy and aloof. Hades' entreaties for the girl to feast with him might have been directed at a stalactite for all they affected Persephone.
Demeter's daughter was seated on a grand throne, attended by servants. A black velvet cloak was drawn about her shoulders and a crown graced her brow. Well... there's the tiara you wanted, goddess.
Back on the surface, Demeter was searching for her daughter. She wandered the fields, perplexed and beginning to lose patience.
From the nearby village of Elyousis, a pack of children skipped in, playing and chattering amongst themselves.
Demeter grabbed a young girl by the arm and asked her if she knew of her daughter's whereabouts. "Please... you must have seen her." The child had not seen here, and neither had the next, and the next, and the next she asked.
An odd desperation came into the goddess' eyes, becoming stronger with each passing moment. The villagers began to look nervous and began to back away, cautiously.
That was the moment when Demeter found the basket and the crushed blossom with a gasp of both shock and alarm. After a moment, her expression grew oddly calm. She picked up the flower carefully and smelled it. Numbly, she cradled it in her palms, and rocked the flower like it was her child... back and forth, back and forth...
The children exchanged nervous glances.
Demeter seemed to have lost any awareness of their presence. She lifted the flower to the light, suddenly, and plucked a petal from it. And then she dropped it.
The petal floated slowly to the ground, feather-like. It lay there, half- wilted and forlorn. Demeter was transfixed. Another petal fell, soon joined by another, and another, and another...
Demeter stared at the dead stem for a moment. And then she dropped it, horrified, the back of one hand pulled to her brow with dismay. "Persephone," she whispered, because she could remember no other words.
She grew angry. Bitterly, violently angry. The fire in her belly grew, fed and strengthened by the transformation of her sorrow to rage.
Demeter unfastened her soil-brown cloak and began to kill the all the flowers.
"While I mourn my daughter, the entire earth shall mourn with me!"
The goddess of the harvest gazed up at Mount Olympus, shaking one fist and calling curses up to Zeus.
Hermes muttered profanity as he held an ice pack to one rather swollen looking ankle and watched it turn to pretty shades of purple (is that plum or heliotrope?)
The messenger god managed to bind the ice pack to the wisteria (or eggplant!) bruised foot. He reached for his sandals and began to bend the wings back into shape, grumbling. "Stupid bad ankles... stupid bad landings... stupid bent wings..."
The sound of horns nearly split Hermes' ears. Zeus was calling. Hermes tossed aside the ice pack and donned his sandals and hat.
"...stupid Zeus."
Once the initial fear had passed, Persephone realized the god did not intend her any harm. Where she had been submissive and meek, she turned icy and aloof. Hades' entreaties for the girl to feast with him might have been directed at a stalactite for all they affected Persephone.
Demeter's daughter was seated on a grand throne, attended by servants. A black velvet cloak was drawn about her shoulders and a crown graced her brow. Well... there's the tiara you wanted, goddess.
Back on the surface, Demeter was searching for her daughter. She wandered the fields, perplexed and beginning to lose patience.
From the nearby village of Elyousis, a pack of children skipped in, playing and chattering amongst themselves.
Demeter grabbed a young girl by the arm and asked her if she knew of her daughter's whereabouts. "Please... you must have seen her." The child had not seen here, and neither had the next, and the next, and the next she asked.
An odd desperation came into the goddess' eyes, becoming stronger with each passing moment. The villagers began to look nervous and began to back away, cautiously.
That was the moment when Demeter found the basket and the crushed blossom with a gasp of both shock and alarm. After a moment, her expression grew oddly calm. She picked up the flower carefully and smelled it. Numbly, she cradled it in her palms, and rocked the flower like it was her child... back and forth, back and forth...
The children exchanged nervous glances.
Demeter seemed to have lost any awareness of their presence. She lifted the flower to the light, suddenly, and plucked a petal from it. And then she dropped it.
The petal floated slowly to the ground, feather-like. It lay there, half- wilted and forlorn. Demeter was transfixed. Another petal fell, soon joined by another, and another, and another...
Demeter stared at the dead stem for a moment. And then she dropped it, horrified, the back of one hand pulled to her brow with dismay. "Persephone," she whispered, because she could remember no other words.
She grew angry. Bitterly, violently angry. The fire in her belly grew, fed and strengthened by the transformation of her sorrow to rage.
Demeter unfastened her soil-brown cloak and began to kill the all the flowers.
"While I mourn my daughter, the entire earth shall mourn with me!"
The goddess of the harvest gazed up at Mount Olympus, shaking one fist and calling curses up to Zeus.
Hermes muttered profanity as he held an ice pack to one rather swollen looking ankle and watched it turn to pretty shades of purple (is that plum or heliotrope?)
The messenger god managed to bind the ice pack to the wisteria (or eggplant!) bruised foot. He reached for his sandals and began to bend the wings back into shape, grumbling. "Stupid bad ankles... stupid bad landings... stupid bent wings..."
The sound of horns nearly split Hermes' ears. Zeus was calling. Hermes tossed aside the ice pack and donned his sandals and hat.
"...stupid Zeus."