windfield | open post - winter 2021-22

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

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