Persephone ✾ Death, Rebirth, Spring, The Mysteries (koredaeira) wrote in fragmented, @ 2013-02-24 09:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | erebos, persephone, zz:completed |
the rib is a shell and the heart is a yolk (erebos)
Something felt different, and she couldn't put her finger on what.
Maybe if the weather were warmer, if she were distracted by sunlight and the muted laughter of some brook still a bit chilled from snow melts, she wouldn't have noticed it. But here in the dark and quiet, her mind mainly occupied by duty as she tended to ghosts and lost souls and she began the initial preparations for her departure, there was some kind of resonant shift that she felt to her bones.
Everything was in order, and her consciousness was properly split to ensure all her work was properly done. Everything was the same. She even felt Aidoneus -- opened herself to that sense again, just to be sure everything was as it should be. Or as close to it as it had been all these years.
That shift, though, and feeling him again, had made Persephone more thoughtful still than usual -- no small feat in days that were still so far from spring. When she felt this way, she'd made a habit of wandering in the Underworld, in the substance of Erebos, often by the river of his daughter, Lethe.
Her work done for the moment, Persephone materialized next to the silver river, treading just along the edge. In the underworld, she still favored long gowns, though they were only inspired by the old styles, not made in them. Deep teal silk, so deep it was difficult to distinguish from black in this light, trailed behind her, and she wondered briefly if the material dipped into the river as she walked, if the silvery waters would creep upward to slide against her skin, would it make her forget, and if so, how much? Would she forget who she was, what she loved, what she did? Or only what hurt?
Her next steps led her a bit farther away from that edge.
For a moment, she looked down at her pale, slender hand. When it had come into fashion, she'd brought them rings, as golden as their palace and their thrones, from the surface when she'd returned.
Twisting the intricately forged gold band, she took a breath, looking out into the darkness, wondering if Erebos might be here. She half-smiled, recognizing that her choice of venue to reflect might not have been accidental. When she'd first come here, she'd had the run of the realm; Aidoneus hadn't kept her prisoner in the palace -- rather, he'd let her see the plane of which he'd made her queen.
She'd still been a girl, then, confused and sad and more than a little afraid -- afraid of who she was, of who she might become -- and this was where she'd met Darkness himself as she'd been sitting on the edge of Oblivion, cheeks tear-stained, her legs folded up under her as she watched the silvery waters run by.
Now, of course, there were nor tears, nor that desperate sadness -- but it would be good to see her old friend.