Persephone (seasonalqueen) wrote in labyrinthine_, @ 2015-05-11 20:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | mel matthews, persephone |
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She'd spent some time thinking, after Aphrodite's visit. Thinking about how she'd been left in charge of the Underworld with no warning. How she'd been handling responsibilities that were never meant to be hers and how, stuck here below, she had no guarantees that anyone would remember to keep her in the loop. Oh, certainly Dionysus would promise to do so, but he had so many things on his mind. Aphrodite herself was flighty, at best.
So with no one to restrict or restrain her, Persephone wandered. Through her realm, first, to be certain there were no larger issues that needed a gentle hand and then farther afield. Or rather, to fields proper. She moved herself to a field thick with tall stalks of corn, awash in sunlight. Eyes alight, she pushed her way between them, fingers touching green stalks and golden silk and swelling kernels, blessing them with just a fraction of the grace her mother could have given, but enough that whoever owned this field who have bushels overflowing come harvest time.
She whisked herself then to a stand of shade trees and knelt to almost literally bury her nose in loamy earth so she could breath the scent of dirt in deep and hold it close like a blanket around her soul.
And next? Back to civilization. To the city where her son lived. To the thrum of people and cars and overindulgence that made up his day-and-night world. She meant to linger there only for a moment before inviting herself to his hotel for a visit -- a surprise visit -- and reunion of sorts. She would have moved on with that plan, too, had she not spotted a corner market not yet closed, with fruits and vegetables still in their stalls, waiting for someone to pick them up and test them and choose to take them home.
Her heart sank like a rock. "Oh no," she breathed, hurrying toward the corner with hands outstretched. "Oh no," she echoed again, when she was close enough to touch grit-touched tomatoes and a stack of peaches that were too warm from having been in the sun. "This is wrong," she murmured. "What are they doing to you? This is wrong."