Who: Poseidon and Melanie When: Tuesday night, April 19, 2011 Where: Some creepy streets of NY/subway Warnings/rating: Violence, attack almost rape mentions
She was sitting in the cafe when she saw him pass by, her heart jumping in her throat. Melanie closed her eyes tightly whispering over and over again for him to leave. It was dark outside, there were few people inside the store, maybe he didn't see her. When she heard the door her eyes flashed open. With his back to her she sunk down in her chair holding the book up as if to block her from view before bolting out the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Without Hades' charm she was vulnerable and Melanie wasn't quite sure what Poseidon wanted with her, but she didn't want to find out.
She didn't go as unnoticed as she'd hoped and before she knew it he was following her out the door with a cup of coffee in his hand. Still out of a car Poseidon walked home, and after a late night at work he wasn't in a friendly mood. Melanie was weaker in comparison to ones like Veronica, but she held one key element that the others didn't. Triton. The boy was fond of her, and since Medusa's attack Poseidon was in the mood for snapping someone's neck. His vengeance was just a melting pot ready to explode. Someone needed to pay, why not kill two birds with one stone?
Melanie's head whipped around quickly when she couldn't stand the feeling of his eyes boring holes into her back. She wished she hadn't because it was then that her footing stopped and his caught up. Holding his hands up in a shrug Poseidon approached. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot," he said so calmly it was almost terrifying.
She nodded looking down at her watch. "I'm going to Triton's. He's expecting me," she said starting towards the subway and down the steps. Whether or not that was the truth, he didn't have to know. She just wanted to deter him. He grabbed hold of her arm snapping her back once down the bottom of those stairs. It was later than usual and there weren't as many people bustling about. If she was late she'd miss her train and have to walk or catch a cab. When his fingers curled around her arm she felt it burn, her soft skin bruising under his hold.
She didn't say a word.
The only people around were a few homeless men and women, no one that could help if the water god decided to do something dreadful. She heard the train stop and advanced forward but his grip didn't release. It was too tight, like a rope curling around her wrist pulling her in a tug of war. Her chest hit his as he curled the other hand against her chin, faintly touching against her cheek and pulling her hair behind her ear. "Let's take a walk," he insisted.
She followed with him, his hand never letting her go walking further down in the under ground world that she never liked to be around so late at night. Some lights were busted overhead, she felt the dark close in around her and the train pull off from it's stop signaling to her that if she screamed would anyone even come? He was being nice, too nice.
"Triton likes you doesn't he?" He faced her again his lips a little too close, so close that she could feel his heartbeat. She swallowed heavily nodding in response. "Good."
Those lips trailed down her neck and she pushed him off scrambling to get away but he clamped down again, hands on parts of her body they shouldn't be. All she could do was cry and struggle. When she flailed she cried out, voice hoarse. She thought she'd say help, scream for someone's name, but it wasn't the name she'd expected. It wasn't Triton's, it was Amphitrite's. Why her name came to mind flapping off her lips as quickly as they could she wasn't sure, but it was enough to make Poseidon pause. To make him stop dead in his tracks.
"What did you say?"
She pulled away pulling at her shirt that had been ripped under his grip as he'd yanked her back just staring at him. That name rang in his ears and he slapped her. She hit against the wall tears continuing to stream down her face as she slid to the ground.
He couldn't do this with Amphitrite's face in mind. All he'd see would be those dirty Greek goons fondling his wife and that made this difficult. His wife that still kept her distance from him physically. Instead he used his anger to bruise her flesh. Enough to make Triton unleash what made him Poseidon's son.
He needed someone else to break. A face that he didn't know. A face that he could ram into a dirty hotel mattress. He needed a heavy drink and a way to let the rest of this aggression out.