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Hadestown

Hades & Persephone.

Persephone was gathering flowers with the Oceanids along with Artemis and Athena—the Homeric Hymn says—in a field when Hades came to abduct her, bursting through a cleft in the earth. Demeter, when she found her daughter had disappeared, searched for her all over the earth with torches. In most versions she forbids the earth to produce, or she neglects the earth and in the depth of her despair she causes nothing to grow. Helios, the sun, who sees everything, eventually told Demeter what had happened and at length she discovered the place of her abode. Finally, Zeus, pressed by the cries of the hungry people and by the other deities who also heard their anguish, forced Hades to return Persephone. Hades indeed complied with the request, but first he tricked her, giving her some pomegranate seeds to eat. Persephone was released by Hermes, who had been sent to retrieve her, but because she had tasted food in the underworld, she was obliged to spend a third of each year (the winter months) there, and the remaining part of the year with the gods above.

but even that hardest of hearts unhardened suddenly when he saw her there: persephone in her mother’s garden, sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair, the smell of flowers she held in her hand and the pollen that fell from her fingertips. and suddenly, hades was only a man with a taste of nectar upon his lips

To live your life in darkness is no easy task. Evil may be just a point of view - one you may not ascribe to yourself - but a black heart or a ruthless mind is hardly quieted. While you don't regret what you've done, at least not outwardly, you do wonder if there isn't something more. Grey morality has discolored your world.

That is, until you see them.

They are beautiful, pure, good: everything that you are not. You should be annoyed or at least ambivalent to their presence; after all, they serve you no purpose, promise you no gain. But oddly enough, you are drawn to them, and not even in hopes to destroy or corrupt. No, you want to have them, to keep them with you. What to do with this newfound feeling?

Act on it, of course. You've never let anything stop you before. What you don't realize (or perhaps do, you just don't exactly care) is that the object of your...affection may not be too keen on being taken what they see as prisoner. Yet you only have their best interests at heart! Still, you do care for them, in your own fashion, more than almost anyone else, so surely a deal can be struck...

You just couldn't bear to lose them.

This meme, obviously, is inspired by the myth of Hades and Persephone. Feel free to be as literal or as loose with your interpretations as you'd like.
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A lesser god might have gotten drunk on a light like that far sooner, and by his father’s beard he had tried to fight it, death shouldn’t know weakness. Death is too final for something as flimsy as weakness, too definite to waver - but he watched her all the same. A light like that didn’t go to shadowy places, and while the golden light of a late afternoon made him bristle Hades found himself with his hands resting against the bark of a willow tree that wanted so much to twist and recoil while he, oblivious stared at something that had no business being so captivating.

There was never a where or a when. There was no right moment for death to come falling at the heels of green and vibrant life. The impossibility of it was maddening. Hades had never wanted for anything, lord of the dead and all the riches of the earth, he had known only the occasional rivalrous pang for his two brothers and their temperate domains, but he had never actually wanted for anything.

No, Death didn’t know want until he knew the color of her eyes - and then that became almost all he knew.

Hades moved forward, more shadow than man at some angles, an odd stain against the soft carpet of grass beneath his feet. If he had a heart it would have ached.

“Hello,” he was behind her in an instant, just inside arm’s reach but trying not to be too startling. Which was difficult; he stared at her with fists loosely clenched, eyes wide as though he had been slapped across the face. She was even more luminous up close. It made him ache in a way he hadn’t been aware was possible. “There are good apple trees,” his voice was low and clipped, as though he didn’t like having to talk at all. In truth he didn’t like talking at that moment, didn’t have any idea why he was saying the things he said. Apple trees? That was not part of the plan. “Over there.”

There wasn't a lot that scared Persephone. Partly because by the virtue of ichor in her veins, there wasn't much that could harm her and by her nature there weren't many that would, so there was no reason to be afraid. Someone had told her this when she was small, much younger than she was now. Maybe it was her mother; it was someone with a soft voice who smelled like freshly turned earth and flowers and would hold her close. But she was gone.

Except for the nymphs that played with her in the fields and the animals and growing things that spoke to her, Persephone was alone. She was a young god that most of her kind that lived on the mountain paid no mind to, and it all suited her fine. There was nowhere else she would rather be than racing across the grass, small flowers springing up where her feet struck the ground, or laughing as the nymphs and naiads bickered at one another. There was a freedom in staying away, even if it could be lonely. It was better than being someone's pawn, and she could take care of herself.

It wasn't all being in the company of giggling nymphs, though. She was alone, and had spent time coaxing a butterfly with a bent wing into her hands. It fluttered nervously, and she calmed it, gently willing the wing strong and straight again. "Go," she whispered to it with a slight smile. It flew away, going this way and that, stronger than it was.

Her concentration was deep -- so deep, she hadn't noticed her company until he spoke. She gasped and whirled around... maybe that wasn't the only reason she hadn't noticed his approach. It was a man, or gave the impression of one. He was shadowed, but not for the cover of the trees in the afternoon sun. It was a black that rivaled the darkest night, and the depths of sleep, making his sharp, pale features even sharper, and unnaturally still. "A... apples?" she asked, still recovering from the shock, a blush staining her cheeks.

A woman letting a butterfly return to the skies it was meant to adorn should not have made his stomach feel like lead. He was death, he was endless and he was not meant to feel the way that she made him feel. It was a weakness that unsettled him, yet he succumbed to it all the same, almost wistful, envious of the flowers beneath her feet as her presence willed them to become. “Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded like an anxious croak to his own ears. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I thought you might want to know,” he didn’t know what he was talking about. He had no idea what he was talking about. There in his cloak of shadows, chilling the breeze as it moved past him, Hades, lord of the underworld had been brought to his metaphorical knees by a young, pink-cheeked sliver of starlight given body and voice. The blush blooming on her cheeks made his mouth hang open for just a second, gaping at her as though she’d revealed some phenomenal cosmic truth to him.

He only barely recovered.

“You seem like the sort who would want to know where the best apples are,” it came out in a rush on the second try, keeping his voice low as though she might startle and run off if he spoke any louder. Pursing his lips into a thin line he grimaced, disappointed with himself, and tried a third time.

“Hello.”

"Hello," she echoed purposefully, studying him with as much interest as he had thus far paid her. She wasn't scared -- not for true, but she was still startled. His steps must have been quiet, and she had no doubt he could have disappeared in a second. The heat of his dark gaze didn't cancel the chill he gave off; she could feel the goose flesh raising on her bare arms.

"I know where the trees are," she replied finally, her mouth gone inexplicably dry as her toes curled into the grass. "The dryads are fussy, though, and only complain when it is too hot, or the rain has lasted for too long, or human children have struck them with sticks, and hate to give up their fruit." Truthfully, it was a bit more than a minor miracle that they tasted as wonderful as they did, as bitter as the trees were, but like others, they bent to the goddess of spring's will with just a sweet word. Still, she tried not to bother them only to take.

"You're Persephone," he blurted out, instantly regretting it. Speaking had gained a level of complexity that he had not anticipated before drawing closer to her like a thunderstruck fool. Now that he was there however, Hades wasn't sure how he would ever be able to be any further away from her than this ever again. "That is - of course you know them already."

He should have gone to them first for advice he realized far too late, caught in the dance of sunlight over her collarbone, lost forever to the shades of russet it brought out in her dark hair. "Trees like that only come to me when they're past the time for fruiting." Why did he keep talking about apple trees? Why was he now talking morbidly about apple trees?

"Do you know who I am?" He asked the question abruptly, the words thick and wavering in a fragile breed of darkly tinged hope, drawing a step closer.

Her heart flutters in her chest like a bird, so greatly she thinks it might escape altogether -- but she doesn't budge while he draws closer, first one step and another. She barely would have needed to move her hand to touch his, and he asks, and she knows.

She'd known he was like her, blood of Olympus with a domain and a purpose and powers, but without a clue as to why she'd not met him -- or, if she had, it had been so long ago, for she must have still been with her mother. But he is not young like her, he is old.

Hades. Some mortals would not even say his name for fear of attracting his ire or even just his attention, lest he be displeased and take someone before their time. She didn't understand much of the superstition surrounding the mortals' worship of them, but that -- now, standing in front of him, with his eyes burning holes into her, she understood. "You rule below." Her voice dropped, an eerie feeling creeping up her spine. What does Death want with her?

"I do," he agrees, wondering if she would have had the same trepidation were he more like either of his brothers. Death, to someone as full of life as she was must seem more like a theft rather than an inevitability - and oh how he wants nothing more than to be her inevitability. "But not for now," lifting one of his large hands he holds it up, a show of peace, a gesture meant to convey that he means her no harm - he just wants to stand close to that light, just for a little while.

"I came to see you." Hades knew he was revealing much in those six short words, he knew someone like her perhaps required more guile but he's helpless, unable to do more. Caught in the snare of the song of her voice and the light in her eyes, like a moth to a flame, enthralled, he looks at her. There's no reaping to be done here, no souls to collect, weigh, and judge. Just her. It's all he can see - all he cares to see.

She may have met them with less trepidation, because she's at least met them before, but she's also sure that no one has ever looked at her like this, and it wouldn't make any difference if he were who he was or some shepherd. Gods don't worship other gods, but he looks as though he could drop to his knees at any moment and do just that... and she doesn't know what to make of it.

"Oh," she answers in a small voice, unsure of what else to say to that. She hadn't been scared -- no, still wasn't, but that didn't mean caution shouldn't be in order. One foot takes the tiniest step back, the other coming back to meet it. She thinks for a minute it wouldn't even be noticeable, but as closely as he is watching her, she then doubts it's escaped his notice. "What-- what for? I mean." That sounded rude. Again, he couldn't kill her, but there were plenty worse fates than that for a girl. "Is there something you require of me?"

"No," the word comes in a ghost of a laugh, a sound he's never made before and now escapes him in awed disbelief. When she draws away he notices, rocking back on his heels to accommodate her desire to put space between them without putting any actual space between them. For her, to keep her here as long as he can he pivots the broad expanse of his frame, shoulders slouching as though he were trying to smooth his rough edges for her even though he knew it was an impossible task.

"I don't," his lips purse, and doubt floods his mind. She's pulled away - as disrupted as a sunbeam when a storm rolls through. He's done something wrong. "I don't require anything," his mouth fell open and he watched her, "but I wanted." Hades hadn't meant for his voice to shake just then, but beneath the weight of her gaze he was as vulnerable as paper to fire.

His laugh carries the crack of a dry branch, something of the turning of earth when done by a gravedigger's spade, and flowers withering to dust once they've served their purpose and spread their seed. It's a creaky, unused thing, and she doesn't know why she likes it, but she does. She shouldn't, she doesn't think, but no one's ever told her what it means, to be conflicted in such a way.

"You... wanted?" It felt like an unfinished sentence, though he said it as though it were a complete one. Wanted what?

"I wanted," he echoes quietly, his words spoken so softly they were almost lost in the space between them. Before Hades can think to stop himself he stepped forward, bridging that gap as his hand captures hers, covering it completely. "I wanted to be close to you." He's cold to the touch but not as cold as he could be - trying desperately to warm himself, to make himself somehow more amenable to her. "You're," Hades paused, guiding her hand up to his face in order to turn his head and press a kiss to the delicate bones of her wrist. "Everything."

He moves like an adder striking. Perfect stillness, and a flurry of movement too fast for the prey (her) to stop it. She gasps when her hand is in his -- no, is engulfed, his hand is enormous although it is in proportional with the rest of him. Maybe it's only proper that Death loom large, and be cool to the touch -- warmer than she'd expected.

And so gentle. His lips touched her wrist, light as a cloud, and for a moment she forgot to question why he was here, or how she was supposed to feel about that. Her breath escapes quickly, and she trembles slightly. "I don't understand," she confessed nervously.

Marveling inwardly at the fragile delicacy of her hand he guided her fingers to rest against his cheek, eyes boring holes into her her, intense but tinged with a soft hope just at the corners. "I don't either," he said, low and warm while his other hand reached for her side. His palm settled against the curve her waist as his fingers splayed out, reaching easily from the top of her ribs to just above the swell of her hip. "Do you feel it too?" Whatever this heady cosmic energy was it thrummed through him, leaving the lord of the underworld as little more than a pawn to the whims of the expression on her face.

He wanted so much to guide her closer against him, wanted to wrap himself around her and cover her as one might a candle flame beneath a sudden downpour, but he had come close enough - perhaps had come too close as it was, touching her now with both hands - one still at her wrist and the other at her middle instead of looking on hungrily as he had been for so long. Hades had to wonder if this is what death was like for mortals who had lived happy lives. There in the mighty softness of her thrall he suspected it might be.

Edited 2020-07-04 22:41 (UTC)

Gods he was going to consume her -- but then again, no. He could, with his hand spanning her ribs and the other holding her hand to his face, it would be child's play to take her up off her feet and take her wherever he wanted. Her heart stopped in her throat. "I do," she answered -- or she felt something. Whether it was the same as what he spoke of, she could not say for true, but there was something that set her cheeks aglow and made her knees quiver. If it was something he was doing, she almost wished he would stop.

Almost.

There was not a vein of gold or jewels lacing through the ground beneath their feet that he was not aware of, there was no preciousness below that he was not privy to, but this - her body like a musical instrument crafted by Hephaestus while guided by the song of Apollo, every flash of light in her eye contending with the moon for grace. “Persephone,” steady, riding on a rush of air warmer than he had ever known he could be. He had meant to say beautiful, but her name had come out instead, but it didn’t matter to him - they were the same.

Reluctantly Hades let her wrist go, ambitiously leaving her palm against his cheek in the hopes she would not pull away from him. Carefully, fingers trembling he brushed the pads of his fingers against the curve of her cheek, pulling her closer to him almost tentatively as he studied her expression in reverent wonder.

Her hand lingers on his cheek where he's laid it, and she caresses it gently -- he feels like he might have ichor there as she did, and not ice like some had rumored and she had foolishly believed. She'd imagined Death would have to be cold, dispassionate. To be equitable in judgment, see every living thing dead, he'd have to be dead himself. But he's in front of her, very much alive.

"Hades--" Her voice is still quiet, like those who fear to say his name. She's not sure why she said it, she has his full attention if that's what she wants. Maybe she just wanted to say it, to see if it would leave her mouth the same way hers left his. "I don't understand," she confessed to him, like it was a secret.

As she continued to touch his cheek without his hand holding her there his chest tightened, whatever ancient earthen heart thud ding blackly inside his ribs suddenly too large for its cage. "Let me show you," his voice his stronger than before, galvanized and emboldened by the way her slender fingers ran over the stalwart, unconventional contours of his face. He couldn't stop feeling this way now that he had started. He couldn't go back to the universe in muted tones now that she'd painted existence in vibrant shades and shadows for him.

After what had felt like a small eternity keeping her at arms length Hades did as he burned to do, his hand leaving her middle only to lace his broad forearm around her middle, grasping the hip on her opposite side easily in the palm of his hand. He pulled her close in one smooth motion, curving around her as he tried to feel as much of her body against his as he could. "Persephone," it was vulnerable and sweet in his mouth uttered in complete reverence before he pressed his lips against hers, devouring and worshiping all at once.

Persephone wasn't sure she understood any better as his arm came around her, hand forming around her hip and pulling her as close as the shadows that clung to him. It feels like being taken into the shade, although she's never felt any this dense.

The kiss was...

The silly nymphs she'd played with since she was a girl -- younger than she was even now -- teased one another and would dare one another to try and steal kisses from the mortals, or worry about a god trying to steal one from them. They sometimes kissed one another's cheeks in friendship and she had kissed her mother, once upon a time, but this wasn't that. This was the kind one would give to their lover, and she's still not sure what to make of that.

But if he can tell that she's never kissed someone like this, he doesn't recoil and mock her for her inexperience, like she fears he might. Like his touch, it is careful and intense at once, and she pushes herself on to her toes to meet him where he towers above her. Her feet may even leave the ground as he takes her closer.

Feeling the way Persephone rose onto her toes to meet that kiss more evenly was all the sign Hades needed to press her just a little more. Across the vast sweep of ages that he had presided alone as sovereign of the dead he can only recall a scant handful of times when anyone had been this close to him - or had wanted to be. He had been content. Hadn't known need like this, hadn't known a feeling quite so soft and sweet as the feathery brush of her mouth against his - she had changed everything for him, moved him to the bones and replaced the ichor flowing through his veins with lightning that crackled with a want born of fire he had never known.

Lifting her off the ground so that she did not have to strain to meet him - and for the sheer joy and unfathomable delight of holding her close against his chest Hades held her, treasuring each curve, reveling in her warmth, trying so very hard to not let his greed overtake him. He wanted her, wanted to spend each day and night in her thrall until the end of time, wanted to adorn her dark hair with the most brilliant gems his ground had to give him and never let a second pass without her knowing how deeply and completely he treasured her. And he could, he knew he could take her, knew it wasn't uncommon and that he stood a fair chance of getting away with it if he did, but for all his covetous desire he faltered. Hades wanted her to want this. Anyone could take a captive bride, could steal away with a young, beautiful shard of summertime in the night - he could have her, but he wouldn't take what she wasn't going to give. He wanted her love because she handed it to him, not because he'd stolen it.

His arm kept her secure against him, and she had no doubt he would keep her there, hovering inches off the grass. Her arms moved around him to steady herself, and brushed the ends of his hair with one hand.

She wasn't sure what changed in that moment, what snapped -- maybe it was her coming to her senses. Maybe it was a careful realization that this was the closest anyone had held her in forever, and she should find it repugnant, being cradled closely by Death, someone she never should have met, so much her opposite-- Her spine straightened as she pulled back, the hair on her arms raised the way a dog's hackles raised at danger, and her lips tender, being freshly kissed. Looking into his eyes, for a moment she only saw the cold, black depths that he ruled over.

No, there weren't a lot of things that scared Persephone. But she was scared now. "Put me down." She would have liked it to come out imperious, but her voice quivered and instead she sounded small.

She was holding him, actually holding him, her hands delicately touching his hair and if he had the power he would have stopped time right there - to do nothing but this, to taste her and feel her warmth and her softness, her touch on his skin as mighty as a rose.

Then it passed as he feared it might. Whatever pull there had been was severed and she drew away, seeming to realize what she had done and who it was she had done it with. Hades felt powerless as their eyes locked again, seeing very clearly that whatever it was had drawn her in was gone. Now, she only saw the chill bleakness of the underworld, eclipsing his adoration, shadowing the fire she'd lit deep in his heart.

He didn't speak, mutely setting her down as sadness and conflict held his expression in their severe, lamenting grasp. For a moment she had wanted him, and he would chase that flickering flame to the ends of the earth if he had to, but he wouldn't make her stay.

He might not have set her back on the ground. He might have taken her to wherever he'd come up out of the ground and back down with him, and for a long moment she's in place, staring back. She might have expected anger, but all she sees is sadness, the sorrow of someone who is alone... so alone.

And she's sorry, and also not, but she has no idea how to put that into words. She feels guilty, and sad, and there's something like nervousness coiled deep in her belly, and it's too much. She blurts out the only thing she can think of, "I'm sorry," and turns on her heel, galanthus springing up in her wake as she flees.

(CNTD)

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Hadestown

nine years late i know

i am screm

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aaaand scene

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