19 TSoT/MMV: Persephone of Purgatory
"I'm messing up the place/Kicking down the door/Never wanna see his face no more…"
-Gin Wigmore, song "Man Like That"
7:30 am, 88th Floor, Next Day, Alcove, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
The elevator doors swung open, as Matilda stepped out onto the pearlescent marble-floored hallway, coffee thermos and laptop bag in hand, along with her purse. She strode toward the minimalist-chic waiting area in front of her and sat on one of the cubic leather seats, planning to spend the next fifteen minutes composing her dissonant thoughts, as it was impossible to do so over at Epicenter Pico, especially with her parents eagerly wanting to know how her first day went. Luckily, they were mostly preoccupied with her mother's ongoing laboratory research, so she was able to get away with a vague enough answer. Matilda didn't see her parents enough for things to be suffocating or otherwise overwhelming, and to their credit, they trusted her enough that they never questioned her comings and goings.
First order of business, she thought to herself, tying her curly auburn hair in a ponytail, was to switch mentors ASAP. She checked the company's website on her laptop's intranet connection to figure out who else was available. There appeared to be a lengthy list…
7:38 am, 88th Floor, Waiting Area, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Matilda frowned as she took two more sips of coffee. As it turned out, there were a hundred other mentors available, but none of them appeared remotely interested in fire magic, save two or three. Of said number, at least one was already taken, the other was on sabbatical, and the final was recovering in a burn ward of a local hospital. That couldn't be good. She decided to jot down those three names anyways, in the (highly, highly unlikely) event there was an opening.
8 am, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
She stared at the towering, shadowy crystalline door in front of her that matched the building's modern Neo-Gothic glass exterior, wondering if it was remotely possible for such an entryway to bite back (both physically and mentally), given this was a skyscraper edifice full of magical beings of various strengths and powers. She pictured the supervisor turning evil and cackling, angry that she was questioning his purgatorial judgment, as he pushed a button that would cause her to drop through the floor and onto a tiger den underneath. Was that possible? Only one way to find out.
8:01 am, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
After knocking once, to Matilda's surprise, she heard a lilting feminine voice call out from within. "Door's open!" And indeed, upon the woman's words, the barrier creaked open just enough for Matilda to sidle through; she couldn't help but gape at the expansive, airy glass-enclosed office. The secretary seemed nice enough, Matilda assumed as she walked deliberately toward the lone chair in the vaguely intimidating office, which faced a desk and an accompanying armchair which obscured the presence of who she assumed was the Head Supervisor. Suddenly, the armchair whirled around, causing Matilda to gasp in surprise. The Head Supervisor was female. Not just any female, but the Greek goddess Persephone herself!
8:02 am, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
"Surprised?" the woman asked of Matilda, who stood rooted to the spot next to the chair. "Everyone always is at first—can't imagine why. Sit, please." She gestured to the auburn-haired girl who dumbly sat as ordered. A suggestion was always an order when it came to goddesses of the underworld, Matilda implicitly understood; she had instantly recognized the goddess from her childhood storybooks back home at Epicenter Pico No. 23, long, flowing locks, pristine floral crown, toga-like garment, and all.
"I-I thought—" stammered Matilda, trying to think of a vaguely plausible excuse for her utter shock. "…I thought that Nelson was my supervisor."
"Oh, child," Persephone laughed aloud, "he's my second-in-command. I spend part of my time here and during the other half, he takes over. For me, being at Purgatory Corporation makes things easier, straddling two worlds—the living and the dead, and all that. Plus splitting duties, me being female, him male—it's more egalitarian that way, wouldn't you agree?" She looked pointedly at the girl before her.
Matilda nodded. This was a lot to take in, especially on her second day of work. Still, here goes nothing. "Um, Lady Underworld—Queen—I mean, Mrs.—I mean—" she stammered.
"Persephone will do."
"Ok, um, Persephone," began Matilda, "can I switch mentors? I think there's been a mistake."
A thin smile appeared on Persephone's lips. Interesting. "Quite the contrary. There's been no mistake, I assure you. You and Wyatt are a perfect match from your curriculum vitae. You each have world-famous Whitelighter origins, top-notch conflagration expertise, not to mention superb letters of reference from Paige Matthews from Camp Wanaka during its inaugural season."
Matilda uttered the barest of audible groans. This cannot be happening. She buried her face in her hands.
"Look at me, Matilda," Persephone leaned forward, her flowing hair swaying from an invisible breeze, as Matilda lifted her head. "From a professional perspective, it's time for you to ascend into your gift of fire power. I get that this might make things awkward—the magical world is quite small."
No, you actually don't get it, Matilda silently thought to herself. And I can't make you, of all deities, possibly understand. Despite her loudmouth impulses, she remained stoically silent.
"I must admit, it took me awhile for me to piece it together. Then I saw your job application with Camp Wanaka listed, and put two-and-two together. Did Wyatt ever hurt you at camp?" Persephone asked out of the blue, concern evident in her expressive eyes. Matilda vehemently shook her head, as her ponytail began to come loose. "Cause you irreparable physical, mental, emotional harm? Anything beyond the pale?" Again, she responded nonverbally, in the negative, bracing herself all the while. This was not how Matilda had expected this conversation to go.
8:05 am, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
"I'm giving you the chance I never had, to grow acquainted with someone extraordinarily well-matched to yourself, on your own terms—" Matilda scoffed at this remark, but Persephone clarified, "—with the freedom to go home and come back as you wish. I wasn't given a choice, and I haven't exactly forgiven my husband for that. He's forever trying to make it up to me, pun intended—"
"Am I a thought experiment to you?" Matilda finally found her voice, daring to look Persephone directly in the eye.
To her surprise, the goddess laughed. "Aren't all humans?"
8:08 am, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Matilda rose from her seat and strode toward the door, as the meeting seemed to have reached a natural close. Persephone called after her softly. "He called you Val, didn't he?" The auburn-haired girl froze in her tracks, her hand poised above the intricately carved crystal doorknob.
"He misses you, you know."
8:10 am, 88th Floor, Hallway Outside Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
In the middle of running an errand, Wyatt sped past Persephone's office and what appeared to be a mop of coppery curls. Doing a double-take, he rounded the next corner and, unnoticed, peeked over. Val, releasing her ponytail tie, curls aflutter. He watched as she held the tie in her teeth, creating tiny crescent-like indentations in its firm-yet-supple rubbery thread, as her slender fingers delicately combed her stray, glittering tendrils in a tidier hairdo this time around. Their mentorship would officially begin in a couple of days once orientation was over, and he still hadn't had a chance to talk to her alone about their time at Camp Wanaka. For all he knew, it was entirely possible that she was actively avoiding him. But…why?
In the intervening years since his time at camp, Wyatt had caught himself dreaming of Val and her captivatingly crimson hair. After some time, he wished for a release from the cruel, ironic agony of having met someone he thought he would never see again—someone that felt as right as the fiercely-burning stars in the celestial evening sky. A soulmate, if such a thing were possible. At one point, he briefly contemplated permanent memory erasure so he would suffer no longer. Of course, Matilda had no idea.