windfield | open post - winter 2021-22

for demspotina

[ there is nothing in the underworld that truly passes for day or night. the gloom is omnipresent: a hazy fog in place of what would otherwise be a sky, lighting everything enough to be visible and not strain the eyes, but little more. it suits hades well - it is practical, and has little variance to concern himself with. but hades is a man (god) of rules, and he enjoys his routines. so when the clock strikes half past five in the ‘evening,’ the gates to the underworld shut, blocking off what little, true light there is.

he has a routine. cerberus is let out of the guard-house, able to roam and run as he pleases. hades himself takes a walk down near the river styx, ensuring that there are no stragglers to be dealt with. if charon needs a question answered, he stops to talk. (not to chat, he’s not so much a chatting guy). and then he returns home to dine in private, and to occupy himself before bed.

it is a modest, diligent life. some might call it impersonal; they’d be right. but between him and his brothers, one of them must understand responsibility.

and yet -

it’s when he crosses through the courtyard on his way back from styx that he realizes something is amiss. it’s a barren place: some shrubs and bushes; a few haggard trees; a fountain that’s been dry as long as he’s been there; statues that have been worn down for longer.

he stops and stares at the woman - flesh and blood, not the wisps and spirits that reside down there. ] Lady Persephone.

[ manners come first. he remembers enough to bow his head in greeting, but he can’t help but blurt out: ]

What are you doing here?

for gwenzelle

[ when gwen wakes up, it’ll be in a bed. good sign for her! somebody also took off her mask, which, well, bad sign! can’t win them all, huh?

it’s a nice room. sleek walls, big window with a set of mechanical blinds, currently closed. plush carpeting, some really funky impressionist artwork on one wall that, after a moment, flickers to another painting, something a lot more modern. two doors - one fully open to show a bathroom, the other open just a crack.

and sitting at a folding card table shoved into the corner, in a chair that’s clearly been repurposed from whatever dining room this apartment has, a woman’s bent over, poking at the goober with a soldering iron. she doesn’t notice gwen wake up immediately, but when the lights start to brighten, she snaps her gaze up. ]

Gwen! [ her movement is fast, fast enough that she’s definitely not a baseline human. soldering iron turned off, tossed back into its case without looking; a smooth jump up and over the back of her chair; cross the room in two steps to the side of the bed. ]

You feeling alright, blondie?

Edited 2021-12-29 21:56 (UTC)

[it's by complete accident that lady persephone wonders down to the underworld, a place that is said to be as dead and barren as the god-king that rules it. she is tending to her mother's gardens, fingers dug into the rich earth, powers funnelling into the soil to forcefully grow the flowers that yield the ambrosia that olympus covets so much. (so much so that they demand it of demeter at every moment of the year, whether or not it is the season for said flowers to grow.)

this, she has done many times before, since she was a young maiden goddess. the difference today is the way the earth tears when she's not looking, opening up into a cave somewhere behind her. when she finds the cave, she feels a calling from inside, something archaic, with deep roots, something that whispers bloom.

so persephone enters the cave. she walks in, and then she walks down, and at some point - maybe five in the evening? - there is a rumble of the cave closing up way behind her. with nowhere to go but forward, she explores, and follows the whispers, and senses the ground as she steps. her sandals she leaves somewhere by a diamond-encrusted wall, one hour in. she feels the ground - hears it - better with her feet bare.

it's very curious. the underworld is meant to be barren, that is what demeter says, it is what zeus and hera say. but the deeper she goes, the hungrier she feels it. and a dead and barren place cannot be this level of hungry. what lies in the house of zeus, then?

then, she comes upon what looks like a courtyard, what wants to be a garden. it's beautiful, with all the statues and the fountain, but it is hilariously unkempt. as she reaches out and touches her palm to one of the haggard trees, someone calls her name.

dignified, she lets out a.] Aaah! [and the tree, zapped by her power and gift, blushes a rich, lush green. in two seconds.

she yanks her hand away and it stays, leaving her with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar as she turns to face the king of the underworld.]

Hello, Lord Hades. It's...been a while.

[ you'd think just- instinctually, at this point, gwen would know when she's waking up in a universe that isn't her own, especially because her charm decided to glitch right before she was jumping through a portal, which is how she ended up knocked out in the first place. no... literally knocked out, but she didn't make it far before her vision went a little cloudy and her stomach did a weird flipflop and she was out for the count. but anyway, no, nope. no part of her spider-sense is going off right now, not even a little bit. she woke up in a comfortable bed, and that's apparently all that's needed to coax her into feeling safe. for about 30 seconds or so, give or take, as she slowly wakes the hell up.

she doesn't have much time to take in the room around her before someone's right there, making her pull in a breath. and she might be feeling more than slightly disoriented, but through the blur of half-awake, half-asleep, and ..third-half-still-kinda-dizzy, the other woman does look familiar. or maybe she just kinda feels familiar? there's a vibe. or maybe it's as easy as the sound of her voice. either way, gwen's still out of it enough to just- ]

Mhmm. [ she scoots back on the bed before curling up on her side again, patting the space in front of her twice, giving her a crooked smile, even though she's already shut her eyes again. ready for more sleep, please! ] Come back t'bed.

[ there is no law that states that an olympian must ask permission before coming to the underworld, and hades has made no such decree. for as much value as he places in rules, he has no desire to simply proclaim law and enforce it for the sake of enforcement. the likes of hera or athena or ares either invite him skyward or request an audience - and that’s rare enough that it scarcely happens. only zeus drops by unannounced. frustrating as it may be, he is the king of them all. hades will not bar him entry.

so seeing persephone down there without warning rackles him slightly, before he reminds himself that she has every right to visit, should she choose to. though why she’s chosen such is beyond him. ]

It has.

[ nearly a year, ever since the last feast that he attended on olympus. he opens his mouth to continue, to ask again why she is there, when a miracle happens. the branches on the tree spread, the buds on it bloom, and it opens with beautiful color - green and red and indigo, so bright that he nearly feels he should shade his eyes.

instead, he nearly staggers forward, hand outstretched to cradle one of the branches. ] This tree has not bloomed in living memory.

[he's more in his element down here, the king of shadows. she has memory of seeing him on olympus, retreated into a corner like a wallflower, just as she has memory of seeing him and thinking what an interesting face before her mother called her attention to the conversation in front of her.

so it's not that they know each other all that well.

so she's being very rude, making his dead trees bloom as a gut reaction.] Oh - I'm so sorry. I can... [she pulls a face.] Well, no, actually I can't really take it back. It'll run its course, wilt after a while. Nature things, you know?

[she is rambling. bad, very bad. she clears her throat.] Anyway - hello. I, um. I think I stumbled onto an entrance to your realm, Your Highness.

[ so like, intellectually, penelope knows that time travel is a thing. people like reed richards and loki(?) are always blabbing on about it, so yes, it’s real. she’s even done it once, which was really weird and she spent the entire time terrified she was going to step on a butterfly and fuck up george washington’s back, despite the fact that they’d gone to the future.

but gwen being here? her darling, little gwennie, in a way that she hasn’t seen in decades? wild. ]

Oy vey. C’mon, babe. [ she grabs gwen’s shoulder to give it a shake - a really good one, because gwen stacy has been a deep sleeper for a long-ass time. ] You’ve been sleeping all day, and you’ve gotta eat something, and I’ve gotta check your head. Wakey wakey.

I’ve heard of nature, yes. [ his tone is dry, dry as deserts, as heated saunas, as dry and barren as the ground. he still does not turn to face her, but holds one of the leaves between thumb and forefinger as if it may break.

(given his own experience with trying to grow anything - well, he wouldn’t be surprised.) ] That was not a condemnation.

[ far from it. the smallest splash of life and color knocks the air from his lungs, and it’s only centuries upon centuries of stoicism that lets hades maintain his composure. he knows persephone, remembers a bright, young woman in her mother’s shadow, encouraged to show off how she makes blooms burst out of thorns. ]

I could tell. You are welcome here, you know.

[He hates it, doesn't he? The tree. But she really can't take it back. It's why it surprises her to hear that she is welcome here, despite the overstepping. That he was not condemning, somehow.]

Oh? I... Thank you, Your Highness. [Shouls she courtesy as well? She bows her head a little bit, a slower nod, except he's still facing away from her and staring at her tree.

With a little frown, she decides to be brave and steps closer, until she's standing beside him.]

You hate it.

[ hades looks at her, at how young and bright she is, a candle flickering in the darkness. ] I do not.

[ he does not say, how could I? he does not say, it’s beautiful. he does not say, like you. instead, he clears his throat. ]

I’m not accustomed to seeing life in my domain. Let alone in this garden. [ he pauses, and then has the grace to look a little sheepish. ] I suppose you can hardly call it one.

[He does not? How that fills her with something like relief, her smile tentative but bright nevertheless. He does not hate it.]

Oh - but it could be. [She looks around the garden, feeling it out. Maybe this is what called her down here. The yearning - maybe it came from here.] It wants to be. Trees don't bloom that easily if they don't yearn for it, in my experience...

Perhaps. [ he does not have much hope. hades has tried to garden before - it is good to have a hobby, he's told, something to clear the mind. he is very bad at it. plants shy away from his touch, and wither into dead grass when they spend too much time in the underworld.

though that could just be him. ]

It was to be one, once. Land has memory, you know that. [ everyone does. ] Perhaps it needs guidance.

[ a pause. hades considers, averts his eyes as he thinks. when he finally looks back, it's curious, almost a little shy. ]

Show me. Again.

[bossy - he has no right demanding it with such a curious, shy look, because now of course she won't think of denying him. he's one of the greater gods, isn't he? she doesn't exactly serve him, but she can't deny that she's inclined to at least listen.

and the garden does beg to be alive again, at least. so it's no hardship.]

Alright. Pick a tree.

[ maybe this isn’t happening. maybe he slipped at the shores of the river and hit his head, and this is a hallucination; that he’s going to wake up momentarily; that he’s finally cracked from so many years of dutiful solitude. but if that is the case - well, not all dreams are night terrors.

hades turns to look out at the garden, surveying the sparse patches of decaying push and fragile, nearly-dead trees. finally, he points to what should be a peach tree. ] That one.

[she follows the direction of his finger and her eyes land on a sad, barren, dead-looking peach tree.]

Ah - a good choice. [they have the loveliest flowers, before they ripen with fruit. she might encourage fruit trees to yield fruit, to help her mother, but her preferences are towards flowers.

spring, the mortals call it. full of blossoms everywhere. and if she remembers right (she does), these smell deliciously good.

she walks over to the tree, and rests her hand against it first, testing out the proverbial waters.

(there may be a rule in olympus that nothing may grow of its own will in the underground, but things don't listen to the rules of gods. the tree wants it - and with nary more than a beckon of her finger, persephone brings it up to the surface.)

every branch fills with green leafs. a second later, every flower bud opens, dyeing the tree white.]

Is it? [ he’d simply chosen, with little regard for message or meaning. the branches of the peach tree wilt, its bark is scattered, and he does not know if a fruit has ever bloomed on it.

but hades waits, watches as persephone approaches it. he doesn’t realize it, but he’s holding his breath - maybe the first was just an anomaly, an accident that can’t be replicated. and then it explodes with color, a spot of green and white so bright that he feels he should shade his eyes.

(there is white in the underworld, as there is gray and brown and black, but it’s bereft of all light. this, this is more than that.)

hades takes a few steps forward, tilting his head back to get a proper look. undisguised wonder. ] Huh.

[ he breathes in - floral, fresh dirt, the barest hint of peach - and then sneezes. ]

Oh.

[ he smiles, something approaching rueful. ] Dinner.

[it is, because she says it is. the tree smells wonderful, mixed with the dark and earthy scent of the underworld. like ichor and ripened fruit, even though she left it in the earlier stages.

she watches with interest as he approaches, as he looks. holds her breath even, hoping for approval without realising how much she craves it. why does she crave it so much?

his smile is precious, and rare, and so he leaves her blinking in surprise.]

Was that...an order or a question?

[ manners, hades. he cannot recall the last guest he's had - his brother, probably - and whatever knowledge he has on how to host a guest has abandoned him. hades coughs awkwardly into his fist. ]

I typically eat dinner at this time. I was on my way, before we crossed paths. You should join me.

[ a pause. that's still a bit close to an order, and - no, he doesn't wish that. ]

I mean. Uh - if you want to. Only that the gates have closed, and you won't be able to leave until tomorrow. Surely, you must be hungry.

[traitor that it is, her stomach growls at that precise moment. gods are not meant to need food, but persephone is used to living among mortals, and their habits have become hers. dinner, for example, is a must.]

I suppose I am. [the gates are closed until tomorrow. she balks a little at that, and walks up to him. not close enough to touch, but...closer.]

I still - do apologise, for wandering into your realm like this. I would enjoy taking you up on your invitation, however, Your Highness.

[ no, they do not. the gods need only their ambrosia, if that. food is a matter of pleasure, one of the few that hades allows himself to indulge in. besides, he finds the routine helps him settle into his duties and responsibilities. if he knows how his day is to be spent, he can give his tasks the appropriate focus and attention.

perhaps he should be more annoyed that his precious routine has had an unexpected interruption. the blooming of the trees keeps him from dwelling on that, and when he finally turns from the greenery, it's with great reluctance. ]

You need not apologize, Lady Persephone. You may visit as you wish. Now -

[ a rumble of feet and the panting of three large heads announces cerberus' presence before he bounds into view. he sniffs with two heads and turns to regard the palace's guest.

only, the palace does not have guests. hades sighs. ] Blood and Darkness. Cerberus, heel!

[she is intrigued, that's for sure and certain. to find that the king of the underworld, ruler over the dead, likes to have dinner is a secret that she will treasure. what a lucky thing to have stumbled onto his territory today.

before she can be gracious and respond with something very diplomatic, the ground shakes - and it isn't her.

she hears the panting first, and sees the beast second. three heads, two of them sniffing the air, and the third turning and zeroing in on her. a very pink tongue sticks out from between sharp looking teeth, and the three heads of the dog pant, tongues out, in synch.]

Ooh, my word, aren't you darlings? [she has zero impulse control right now. there's a big, beautiful dog with three heads, and she has two hands. they're made for petting and scritching and maybe the dog knows.] Hiii - are you the guardian? Yes you are, I bet you're a good boy too!

[ well. he wasn't expecting that.

cerberus preens with the attention, any potential thoughts of attacking gone from his three (empty, empty) heads. it doesn't take long for the feared guard-dog of the underworld to be reduced to a drooling, happy little fool, barking and jumping up. hades observes for a moment in silence - to tame the beast so quickly is a feat that not even he accomplished. but cerberus is excited, and he is jumping, and he is very, very enormous.

the king moves forwards with a few steps, grabbing at the back of the middle head's collar and pushing down. ] Down, boy. [ he doesn't hold him for long, just until he gets the message and sits. when hades lets go, he can't help but look fond. ]

This, [ he begins, hand moving to affectionally ruffle the top of one of cerberus' heads, scratching behind the ears. ] Is Cerberus. It seems he likes you, a rarity.

[the other two heads, apparently, are happy enough to lower themselves within reach of persephone's loving hands, which she dedicates to petting immediately. the tail waggles at the scratching from hades, and out of curiosity she does the same to the other heads, sending the tail into a whomp of a waggle.

he's lovely.]

The feeling is absolutely mutual, Cereberus. What do you do around here, big boy?

He guards the gates. [ hades leans down to get underneath cerberus' chin. ] After they close, he has full range of the palace. He enjoys sleeping in the gardens - with you there, I suppose I forgot.

[ because of the newly-blooming trees, and because of the goddess who made it happen. persephone is quite distracting. after another moment, hades stands and awkwardly clears his throat. ]

Dinner may have gotten cold. We should check, before this cur finds it and eats it all.

[she gives up on petting cerberus in favour of letting the big dog settle in for the night's nap underneath the tree she just blossomed for hades' enjoyment.

she wonders if the string of spirits and dead take a break for the night too, or if it's just cerberus who gets to rest.

but at the awkward clearing of his throat, she looks back to him, a little blush rising to her cheeks.]

By all means, lead the way.

Come. [ hades ducks his eyes, avoiding persephone's look, and turns into the palace. it would be charitable to call it gloomy: dark stone, obsidian floors, the ceilings are hid by mist and fog. there's enough light to lead the way, thanks to the luminescence set into the walls, but not much.

which is a shame, because the building and architecture itself is quite handsome. it's mostly practical, not the extravagance of olympus, but there's enough of a sense of aesthetic to keep it from being homely.

his dining room is much more well-lit by comparison. it is a long table, with enough room for a whole fleet of honored guests, even if none have ever come. hades' plate is waiting for him, as well as some lamb, fruit, bread, and olives. ]

We'll call for another setting. Would you like wine?

[it's like stepping into a cloud, only less wet. the underworld is a strange place, but the more she sees of it the more she realises that strangeness is not without its beauty. plenty of that, in fact.

her gaze is drawn like a magnet to the back of hades' head as he guides the way. it seeks out to map the width of his shoulders, the strage fluttering feeling in her belly from being around him. she barely even notices the architecture, fascinated as she is to discover a mole near his hairline; she barely even notices the new room, the presence of candles and the scent of food.

until he speaks.] Oh - yes. Please, thank you. [she darts her gaze away, afraid of having been caught oggling him rather brazenly, and studies the room where the king of the dead has his supper.]

You know, rumour has is above ground that if you eat or drink in the Underworld, it claims you.

Mostly untrue.

[ he pours the wine as he speaks, from a long-necked glass bottle into a pair of silver goblets. ] After the Titanomachy, the world was divided between my brothers and I. You know the story. But just as the seas and the skies existed before us, so too did the Underworld.

[ he remembers what it was like beforehand: dark, cold, with the souls of the dead swarming over the ground. now, it is - well, it's still dark and cold, but at least it's reasonably more organized. ] There was a needed ceremony. A ritual to bind the King to the Underworld. And it did, yes, involve eating a fruit grown here.

[ he shrugs, and offers her the glass. ] The story was warped, it seems. And as we get so few visitors, there's nobody to offer the truth.

I thought the Underworld bore no fruit. [She's curious now, about what kind of fruit the King had to consume.

And if that story were to also apply to the other deities or not, Persephone still takes the glass and takes a sip. Who provides him with the food and drink? Is it Demeter?]

They do love their gossip about you up above. [She stares into her glass for a moment, before looking up with a little smile.] No horns, as far as I can see.

It bears little fruit. There is one tree - pomegranates - that still blooms.

[ strange, how something so absolute and vital, stewardship of the dead, is tied with a fruit so innocuous. hades has long since given up trying to find a reason.

he scoffs, taking a sip of wine. ] Of course they do. [ but there's some light amusement in his eyes when persephone explain. the lines on his face lessen just so. ] Is that what is said? Truly?

The mortals do like to think you're the most fearsome of them all. [she smirks a little at this, taking a sip of wine that is the prelude to some excellent gossip.] I think that irritates Zeus to no end.

[ now, that just makes him roll his eyes. ]

Of course it does.

[ hades keeps to himself. he has his duties, he has his kingdom, he has his routines. he does not speak with his brother often, a fact that he takes some comfort in. ]

Mortals fear what they don't understand, or feel they can't fight. [ like death, and the inevitability of his realm. ]

Like death?

[She would agree with that. She's only seen the other end of the spectrum - birth, growth, harvest; so on - but she has noticed the fear of it ending.]

They're not immortal. It's all about finite time, don't you think? If you only get to bloom once, you dread every shadow cast over you.

[She takes a sip of her wine.] It is ironic how welcoming your realm is.

Just so.

[ hades does not think about life very often. why would he? he travels to the surface often, and the living come to his realm even less. mostly, he deals with the dead: the souls newly punted across the river by the boatman; the shades milling around in the fields and plains and meadows; the spirits who come to petition him.

as they've been talking, another plate and set of cutlery have appeared on the table. his servants are efficient, and prefer to remain unseen. ] Please, sit.

I have a feeling, [ he begins, sinking into his preferred chair, ] that you are the first person to call my realm welcoming, My Lady.

[she takes a seat, wondering at who sets out the dinner plates, who makes the food - something tells her that hades does not cook it, though she wonders if he can. she certainly can only manage picking fruit and vegetables from the fields and chopping them up at most, but then again a goddess does not need food.

this whole dinner thing is a very new habit. demeter doesn't keep it in her house, but that's because demeter has a long standing tradition of working until sundown.]

Am I? Well - that's a shame. I don't think I remember the last time someone invited me to dinner. [or for the wine, which is making her feel very nice.] Or hasn't complained that I'm dragging mud everywhere - so yes, welcoming.

[it feels like home, strangely. it's damp and dark and cold but it feels like hers.]

[ at that, he actually ducks his head, as to not look persephone in the eye. if there is any word to describe how the god of the dead looks in that moment, it may be bashful. ] It would have been rude to not offer you food. Or to not house you for the night.

[ what passes for night, at any rate. the palace is large - too big for hades alone, if he's honest - and doubtless, she'll be able to find an unused room.

he serves her first: lamb, pita, olives, and then himself. the fruit stays untouched for now. ]

Floors get dirty. I don't see any reason in complaining about it.

[like she said, it's a welcoming place. she can walk the floors with mud on her feet and not offend any goddess of housecleaning or hearth or whatnot. she can just walk in, and not end up punished for not sending prior notice and begging an audience.

he's a rather kind ruler. honestly doesn't make sense that so many above don't like him. she quite likes him.

does help that his food is nice, too.]

Is the path going to open again in the morning? I can get out of your hair then.

[ the food is - well, to say it is hot isn't entirely accurate. warm? not cool? above room temperature, even for a place so dour as this? ]

It will. [ when the bell rings signifying dawn-that-is-not-dawn, so too will the gates open up. the newly arrived shades will shuffle in to be processed. hades will work, break, work more, walk, dine, sleep, and rise the next morning to do it again.

now that he's staring at somebody else, it does seem a little. repetitive. ]

Should you wish. You are welcome to stay, of course.

[that's a novel concept. her staying would be a lot like her taking a vacation, which she hasn't done. it's not like she's employed by olympus, not really; more like expected by olympus to make things grow for mortals to keep thanking other gods for the harvest, or the good weather.

she's been a little tired of being unnoticed, to be honest. maybe if they are given to miss her, the mortals will appreciate her more? what a dirty thought.]

I - wouldn't want to impose.

[ vacation? he's never heard of it. hades has always been the duteous brother, the hard worker. the idea of taking time off seems absurd. there's always work to be done in the underworld, and he is the king. nobody else can do it. ]

You would not be. [ it's said strongly, quickly. maybe even a little more sharp than he intended. hades clears his throat and looks down, intent on his dinner. ]

That is to say - I may be called away, as duty needs. But you would not be an imposition. [ there's a moment of silence, and then: ]

I would like it. If you stayed.

[when the summer is in full swing, and there's so much work for her to do, demeter barely has time to notice her daughter; this is why the island works in her favour. her mother thinks her safe and sheltered on her island, from which she can be summoned any time olympians want to see the goddess of spring again, but otherwise left on her own.

in conclusion:] I don't think anyone would notice me being gone.

[she picks up the glass of wine and takes a quick sip, putting it down with a more sure smile.] So that is to say, alright. I can bother you for a few days.

open post - winter 2021-22

but he fell in love with a beautiful woman

reverse back to the future

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what if we were dare devils and we cuddled

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