Nothing. Kore felt nothing. She certainly did not feel like herself. As she fell deeper into the darkness, once again visions consumed sight of all around her. This time was different. The physical inflictions were overbearing to be...
Cold fingers slide down her naked body, leaving a trail of bumps wherever it leads. Murmuring of a male invade her jumbled thoughts; with a slight nod of her head, cold hands greet her bare thighs. Embraces upon silk heighten her senses, as she feels the heat pouring out of her body. Cries and whimpers echo in her ears, her small fingers grip at the silk beneath her body, anchoring her down. She feels like she's about to. . . a burst of white ends the vision.
Now, her finger comes into view. Kore reaches to grasp a rose, and with a prick of a thorn, blood slides down her now pale flesh. Pain pushes through Kore's body like the soft whisper of wind through the field. Once she tries to release the beautiful flora, the flora wraps it's stems around her wrist, snaking it's way around her middle. She screams.
Eyes jutting open, Kore released a yelp. She could taste the Crimson nectar from her vision. Jade eyes surveyed her body for any signs of gripping thorns, only to find a cold hand there at her waist.
"You're safe, Persephone," the baritone voice reverberated against her chest.
Kore did not dare look up; instead her heart slammed against her cage of ribs. She pondered who was the owner of the voice, and why their hands were upon her flesh.
Does he not know who I am?, Kore wondered, narrowing her eyes at the pet name he called her. Persephone. What an odd name to call such a maiden. Anger bubbled at the pit of her stomach; Kore would not give this stranger the power to mock her.
Lifting her gaze, Kore faced with a rather pale chest. Her cheeks burned as she took in the dark silk that barely concealed the man's flesh. Slowly lifting her chin up, the goddess peered up at a familiar face.
"Have no manners?" Kore glared at man before her.
The amused god smirked down at her, raising a brow. Kore fumed at the condescending look in his eyes. With the whip of the chariot, a few dark curls whipped across, draping his forehead in a graceful manner. All Kore could think about was pushing it out of his eyes. Her fingers itched at her sides. How can he possibly see, the young goddess pondered, chewing on her lip.
"Where are you taking me?" Kore asked, struggling to wiggle out of his grip.
"You're quite the curious one for a maid," was all he replied, his hand cupped her hip.
"Who ever said I was a maid?"
The god chuckled softly. Kore could feel each wave cascading in his chest-her head pressed up against his lower breast. His deep voice gave out an awkward noise which came out soft as a whisper; deep down, Kore hoped to hear the noise again.