Epitaph Empress
Author's Note: Second chapter here and as Moonstone Tears put it - enter Persephone stage left! On a note, this chapter is basically an introduction to Persephone and her character. Thanks to all my reviewers and a little message to Kate; I would have to make this fic into a 400+ page published novel and it *still* wouldn't make your work look like that of a five year old! Your version of this is bloody fantastic and so very beautiful (and *highly* recommended to anyone that hasn't had the delight of reading it yet). So no putting yourself down! ^_^
Epitaph Empress
Chapter II
The warming, shimmering rays of Helios gently filtered through a maze of outstretched tree branches, their healthy green leaves burning a deeper green yet, the sunlight pouring down onto a quiet, remote stream, surrounded by garlands of inquisitive wildflowers. In the thick of summer's rapture, the translucent water's song awakened wildlife, nymphs in their natural sensuality, slumbering blossoms and beckoned the innocent Goddess of Spring.
Persephone, Spring's virgin Goddess, loyal and innocent daughter of Demeter, Lady of the Harvest and highest priestess to her kind mother's duty to the grain and land. Craving a momentary escape from a desert of ripe, fertile land spun from golden crops, burning like the threads of the sunlight itself, she had wandered away from the protective embrace of Demeter to the nurturing embrace of nature, her half-siblings by her mother's guiding hand. In the forest of deep, changing colours, each more brilliant than the last, she surrendered to the whispers of her imagination and majestic dreams caressing the smooth shores of her mind's eye. She wandered, solitary and content into the thickness of a thousand hues of blazing green and soft shades of the flowers, the earth itself her constant companion, stark and silent in its tender love for the young immortal.
Young she was, short and slender in build, her skin pale as marriage sheets yet to be used, untouched by man or god and still ivory and rosy whilst other maidens bronzed in sunshine and the call of suitors. Her young form, newly ripened into adult beauty and unconscious allure with the mould of enviable curves and breasts, straight, strong and proud as a young elm was clothed in a simple light gown of pristine white to allow freedom of movement, its unadorned shades like the thick morning fog, concealing all the beauty of her form. Her hands and feet were child-like and delicate, her small feet embroidered by grass and stray flowers, the scent of heavy lavender and wild plants and fruits cloaking her. From long legs, dancing feet, diminutive hands, thin arms and small, perfectly sculpted and rounded young breasts she rivalled many a lovely Goddess but her face and hair stole even the abundant glory from those details.
Her rosy-cheeked but pale, sweet face was of delicate features - strong cheekbones, a graceful, elfin nose, small but lush lips like dewy petals freshly plucked from a wild rose, battling between passionate red and blushing pink and curving dark eyebrows. Her long-lashed eyes were wild, desperate, dreamy, loving, imaginative and naïve all in one moment of emerald green and were shaded by a cluster of greens painted all the dancing, strong shades of Sicily's free meadows. They glittered with such brilliant and tempestuous feelings that at times it was impossible whether she was a childlike woman or a woman with the eyes of a child, gazing innocently at a world painted to idealistic perfection.
Her hair was the crown of her glory, a thick tumble of long, abundant nut- brown locks caressing her back and shoulders, burning with the quiet gentle beauty of the nurturing, tender earth itself as warm as the comforting embrace of sleep and shining with threads of burning copper and gold when hit with bright arrows of sunlight. It was wild and dancing in the breeze, flying out like a grand cape behind her, adorned only by a wreath of wildflowers, mismatched by colour and she sat down by the gentle trickle of the flowing stream, losing herself to throes of relaxation, her only lover the beauty of the virgin world.
She quietly settled down on the green boughs of the bank, her long, pale legs stretched out in front her, the sharp but welcome cold of the calming water teasing her feet. She knew that she would feel the unmistakable call of her mother's presence soon, as Demeter bestowed all the love of her great heart upon her one treasure, her daughter but with such waves of love came the drowning undercurrent of worry, a force almost as strong and consuming. This did not trouble the gentle Goddess, for she loved her attentive mother with a similar constant need and though the moments alone with her thoughts and growing ideas were appreciated, nothing was better than returning to her mother's thick embrace and sharing these thoughts to the Goddess of the Grain; her mother and closest friend, the outlet of her dreams, carer of her woes and ever-wise figure of her youth. Though she sometimes longed for company other than loyal nymphs and the odd God or Goddess now and then that Demeter found appropriate to converse with her child, the love of her mother was more important to her than all these things and so very necessary to the core of her being.
She mused once more on her fellow immortals, dwelling far from peacefully and blissfully on the divine pinnacles of Olympus. Though they caused each other great troubles and wrath at times, they all seemed the greater and wiser from it and living the content life of a worshipped deity. She longed to have a chance to see more of them and more often - the opportunities to see her loving father, Zeus were few, as the chances to visit Olympus were scarce to both their regrets, therefore the grand hero and King of all Gods with his large heart dwelled mostly in the bright lair of imagination and the more faded cloisters of her memories. However, to expect Zeus to visit her upon the wide and earthly meadows of Sicily where her mother dwelt and tended to her duties was ridiculous, though her immortal half-siblings found such chances, even if their duties were less immediate than the mighty Zeus. In the immortals of Olympus she has found many close and true friends, their compassionate friendships forged from deep and powerful bonds, strong and true, though never truly tried.
Hermes, God of Messages was her most constant visitor and most constant friend, apart from her affectionate mother and the sisterly guardians she found in the nymphs. Her heart glowed with laughter and sisterly love at the memory of his short, thin form, his untidy mass of unruly tawny curls for hair, his long nose and metallic eyes, glimmering a muted green, surmounted by thick shades of grey, like a cat's eyes; setting off his boyish grin, easy charm and simple flow of disarming humour and quick friendliness. Indeed, Hermes was a God who would instantly take a liking to someone and quickly form a strong bond of friendship soon after. The memory of the smiles he brought her kindled her soul with an affection to this brotherly God, waiting forever in anticipation of the next of many visits to her wild and free meadows.
She had formed another close friendship with Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War, approved by Demeter as a tutor to Persephone in her early days in the realms of the world, to educate her in the ways of the world every now and then, in the hope that her daughter would mature into an intelligent and understanding but kindly Goddess. She chose her tutor well in Athena and was not disappointed. Athena had filled the early years of Persephone's life with the thrill of greedy learning, as the young immortal devoured her lessons in life and duty finding a gentle guide in all her troubles and a true friend in the wise Goddess with the sharp silvery eyes.
Another deity Persephone had harboured a friendly fondness for was Aphrodite; Goddess of Love, though she found in the patron of passion someone of charismatic wicked humour and a childishly simplistic and sincere outlook at the world. . .and a friend amusingly disapproved of by Demeter! Warm and plentiful bouts of girlish giggles were sowed and reaped by the loving and smiling influence of beautiful, golden Aphrodite despite constant guilty blushes and laughs at the freeness of the Love Goddess' speech and at times blunt manner. Though at times she was a selfish and capricious friend, quick to jealousy and anger, she was swift to tearful, hasty reconciliation and brought an untamed element into the innocent world of the Goddess of Spring.
This was the only love that ruled in the vast green boughs of the lands of her sweet heart - the love for her friends and the eternal devotion she shared with her mother, the figure as full of warmth as the sun on a tortured back, as nurturing as the blanket of soil to the golden stalks of the harvest of grain. The one who gave her life and directed her with her brightness and loving influence, caring her from the cradle, who taught her all she knew, who filled her earliest experiences to the brim with love; looking after her and singing to her. She had no knowledge of the burning passions and pleasures that dominated the songs and dances of her guardian nymphs, only knowing the embraces of her mother, the only kisses is her life the kisses of sun and rain bringing release and abundance to the land. She had no desire for man or God. She was happy.
She spread the crooked blades of grass apart as she lay down, arms lazily coiled behind her head of chestnut velvet waves, amongst dew drops and scattered blossoms painted amethyst, garnet and amber all around her - the true jewels of the world. She lay down, idly gazing with absent longing at the white bellies of rolling and soaring clouds in the pastel-blue sky, taking in the moment, drawing it out, this one moment of pure peace. The one moment of innocent skies, full of dreams and longings, the thick, heady smell of the sweetness of flowers, blushing with pink against white, fuchsia against indigo, burning furiously with colour, blossoms shaded lapis lazuli caressed by the smooth hand of the light, crimson and deep purple petals battling for the status of the more brilliant shade, flecks of gold surrounding the battlefield of the blossom and other softer, more delicate shades seeming to sing to innocent Persephone.
A stray petal, caught in the gentle arms of the wind, caught in her thick locks as she lay upon the grass, a world apart from the physical dominion, awakening her once more to it. Slowly, she drew herself up into a careless sitting position, the breeze pulling her dress tightly to her breasts and hips, betraying her young body.
She reminded herself of the duties of the grain; it would not be right to not aid her mother, a mother too considerate of her daughter to demand her assistance. As High Priestess of Demeter, she had a responsibility over the harvest also.
She stood up and prepared to wade through forest and meadows, these places that were home to her imagination, to return to her caring mother. Crossing a shallow brook, her sharp ears caught the chilling sound of the lamentation of a nymph. One of her sisters had fallen after the descent of many years, cried the song of the tears of her sisters. Persephone's blood ran cold then burnt fiercely with the depth of her love for her guardians as she tore desperately through streets of trees, the green glaring down on her, then unfolding branches, bark and twigs to allow her passage. To the gentle green hollow shrouded with the golden warmth of the sun that would become the deathbed of a nymph.
And so rushing to her nymph sisters' aid, Persephone, Maiden Goddess of Spring saw death for the first time.
Author's Note: Second chapter here and as Moonstone Tears put it - enter Persephone stage left! On a note, this chapter is basically an introduction to Persephone and her character. Thanks to all my reviewers and a little message to Kate; I would have to make this fic into a 400+ page published novel and it *still* wouldn't make your work look like that of a five year old! Your version of this is bloody fantastic and so very beautiful (and *highly* recommended to anyone that hasn't had the delight of reading it yet). So no putting yourself down! ^_^
Epitaph Empress
Chapter II
The warming, shimmering rays of Helios gently filtered through a maze of outstretched tree branches, their healthy green leaves burning a deeper green yet, the sunlight pouring down onto a quiet, remote stream, surrounded by garlands of inquisitive wildflowers. In the thick of summer's rapture, the translucent water's song awakened wildlife, nymphs in their natural sensuality, slumbering blossoms and beckoned the innocent Goddess of Spring.
Persephone, Spring's virgin Goddess, loyal and innocent daughter of Demeter, Lady of the Harvest and highest priestess to her kind mother's duty to the grain and land. Craving a momentary escape from a desert of ripe, fertile land spun from golden crops, burning like the threads of the sunlight itself, she had wandered away from the protective embrace of Demeter to the nurturing embrace of nature, her half-siblings by her mother's guiding hand. In the forest of deep, changing colours, each more brilliant than the last, she surrendered to the whispers of her imagination and majestic dreams caressing the smooth shores of her mind's eye. She wandered, solitary and content into the thickness of a thousand hues of blazing green and soft shades of the flowers, the earth itself her constant companion, stark and silent in its tender love for the young immortal.
Young she was, short and slender in build, her skin pale as marriage sheets yet to be used, untouched by man or god and still ivory and rosy whilst other maidens bronzed in sunshine and the call of suitors. Her young form, newly ripened into adult beauty and unconscious allure with the mould of enviable curves and breasts, straight, strong and proud as a young elm was clothed in a simple light gown of pristine white to allow freedom of movement, its unadorned shades like the thick morning fog, concealing all the beauty of her form. Her hands and feet were child-like and delicate, her small feet embroidered by grass and stray flowers, the scent of heavy lavender and wild plants and fruits cloaking her. From long legs, dancing feet, diminutive hands, thin arms and small, perfectly sculpted and rounded young breasts she rivalled many a lovely Goddess but her face and hair stole even the abundant glory from those details.
Her rosy-cheeked but pale, sweet face was of delicate features - strong cheekbones, a graceful, elfin nose, small but lush lips like dewy petals freshly plucked from a wild rose, battling between passionate red and blushing pink and curving dark eyebrows. Her long-lashed eyes were wild, desperate, dreamy, loving, imaginative and naïve all in one moment of emerald green and were shaded by a cluster of greens painted all the dancing, strong shades of Sicily's free meadows. They glittered with such brilliant and tempestuous feelings that at times it was impossible whether she was a childlike woman or a woman with the eyes of a child, gazing innocently at a world painted to idealistic perfection.
Her hair was the crown of her glory, a thick tumble of long, abundant nut- brown locks caressing her back and shoulders, burning with the quiet gentle beauty of the nurturing, tender earth itself as warm as the comforting embrace of sleep and shining with threads of burning copper and gold when hit with bright arrows of sunlight. It was wild and dancing in the breeze, flying out like a grand cape behind her, adorned only by a wreath of wildflowers, mismatched by colour and she sat down by the gentle trickle of the flowing stream, losing herself to throes of relaxation, her only lover the beauty of the virgin world.
She quietly settled down on the green boughs of the bank, her long, pale legs stretched out in front her, the sharp but welcome cold of the calming water teasing her feet. She knew that she would feel the unmistakable call of her mother's presence soon, as Demeter bestowed all the love of her great heart upon her one treasure, her daughter but with such waves of love came the drowning undercurrent of worry, a force almost as strong and consuming. This did not trouble the gentle Goddess, for she loved her attentive mother with a similar constant need and though the moments alone with her thoughts and growing ideas were appreciated, nothing was better than returning to her mother's thick embrace and sharing these thoughts to the Goddess of the Grain; her mother and closest friend, the outlet of her dreams, carer of her woes and ever-wise figure of her youth. Though she sometimes longed for company other than loyal nymphs and the odd God or Goddess now and then that Demeter found appropriate to converse with her child, the love of her mother was more important to her than all these things and so very necessary to the core of her being.
She mused once more on her fellow immortals, dwelling far from peacefully and blissfully on the divine pinnacles of Olympus. Though they caused each other great troubles and wrath at times, they all seemed the greater and wiser from it and living the content life of a worshipped deity. She longed to have a chance to see more of them and more often - the opportunities to see her loving father, Zeus were few, as the chances to visit Olympus were scarce to both their regrets, therefore the grand hero and King of all Gods with his large heart dwelled mostly in the bright lair of imagination and the more faded cloisters of her memories. However, to expect Zeus to visit her upon the wide and earthly meadows of Sicily where her mother dwelt and tended to her duties was ridiculous, though her immortal half-siblings found such chances, even if their duties were less immediate than the mighty Zeus. In the immortals of Olympus she has found many close and true friends, their compassionate friendships forged from deep and powerful bonds, strong and true, though never truly tried.
Hermes, God of Messages was her most constant visitor and most constant friend, apart from her affectionate mother and the sisterly guardians she found in the nymphs. Her heart glowed with laughter and sisterly love at the memory of his short, thin form, his untidy mass of unruly tawny curls for hair, his long nose and metallic eyes, glimmering a muted green, surmounted by thick shades of grey, like a cat's eyes; setting off his boyish grin, easy charm and simple flow of disarming humour and quick friendliness. Indeed, Hermes was a God who would instantly take a liking to someone and quickly form a strong bond of friendship soon after. The memory of the smiles he brought her kindled her soul with an affection to this brotherly God, waiting forever in anticipation of the next of many visits to her wild and free meadows.
She had formed another close friendship with Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War, approved by Demeter as a tutor to Persephone in her early days in the realms of the world, to educate her in the ways of the world every now and then, in the hope that her daughter would mature into an intelligent and understanding but kindly Goddess. She chose her tutor well in Athena and was not disappointed. Athena had filled the early years of Persephone's life with the thrill of greedy learning, as the young immortal devoured her lessons in life and duty finding a gentle guide in all her troubles and a true friend in the wise Goddess with the sharp silvery eyes.
Another deity Persephone had harboured a friendly fondness for was Aphrodite; Goddess of Love, though she found in the patron of passion someone of charismatic wicked humour and a childishly simplistic and sincere outlook at the world. . .and a friend amusingly disapproved of by Demeter! Warm and plentiful bouts of girlish giggles were sowed and reaped by the loving and smiling influence of beautiful, golden Aphrodite despite constant guilty blushes and laughs at the freeness of the Love Goddess' speech and at times blunt manner. Though at times she was a selfish and capricious friend, quick to jealousy and anger, she was swift to tearful, hasty reconciliation and brought an untamed element into the innocent world of the Goddess of Spring.
This was the only love that ruled in the vast green boughs of the lands of her sweet heart - the love for her friends and the eternal devotion she shared with her mother, the figure as full of warmth as the sun on a tortured back, as nurturing as the blanket of soil to the golden stalks of the harvest of grain. The one who gave her life and directed her with her brightness and loving influence, caring her from the cradle, who taught her all she knew, who filled her earliest experiences to the brim with love; looking after her and singing to her. She had no knowledge of the burning passions and pleasures that dominated the songs and dances of her guardian nymphs, only knowing the embraces of her mother, the only kisses is her life the kisses of sun and rain bringing release and abundance to the land. She had no desire for man or God. She was happy.
She spread the crooked blades of grass apart as she lay down, arms lazily coiled behind her head of chestnut velvet waves, amongst dew drops and scattered blossoms painted amethyst, garnet and amber all around her - the true jewels of the world. She lay down, idly gazing with absent longing at the white bellies of rolling and soaring clouds in the pastel-blue sky, taking in the moment, drawing it out, this one moment of pure peace. The one moment of innocent skies, full of dreams and longings, the thick, heady smell of the sweetness of flowers, blushing with pink against white, fuchsia against indigo, burning furiously with colour, blossoms shaded lapis lazuli caressed by the smooth hand of the light, crimson and deep purple petals battling for the status of the more brilliant shade, flecks of gold surrounding the battlefield of the blossom and other softer, more delicate shades seeming to sing to innocent Persephone.
A stray petal, caught in the gentle arms of the wind, caught in her thick locks as she lay upon the grass, a world apart from the physical dominion, awakening her once more to it. Slowly, she drew herself up into a careless sitting position, the breeze pulling her dress tightly to her breasts and hips, betraying her young body.
She reminded herself of the duties of the grain; it would not be right to not aid her mother, a mother too considerate of her daughter to demand her assistance. As High Priestess of Demeter, she had a responsibility over the harvest also.
She stood up and prepared to wade through forest and meadows, these places that were home to her imagination, to return to her caring mother. Crossing a shallow brook, her sharp ears caught the chilling sound of the lamentation of a nymph. One of her sisters had fallen after the descent of many years, cried the song of the tears of her sisters. Persephone's blood ran cold then burnt fiercely with the depth of her love for her guardians as she tore desperately through streets of trees, the green glaring down on her, then unfolding branches, bark and twigs to allow her passage. To the gentle green hollow shrouded with the golden warmth of the sun that would become the deathbed of a nymph.
And so rushing to her nymph sisters' aid, Persephone, Maiden Goddess of Spring saw death for the first time.