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Author Topic: Don’t cry for me. (Hades/Proserpine story)  (Read 1917 times)
Mandi
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Did the big meanies break yer speshulness

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« Topic Start: May 01, 2007, 05:20:55 pm »

I'm stuck.  Proserpine needs 6 challenges, the seventh being her return to her mothers "loving' arms.  Having issues even.  Any ideas?

---------------------------------------------------------


“Don’t cry for me.  I didn’t fall- I jumped.”

It was hot.  Hot as Hades.  Well actually, she wouldn’t know, being a second tier fertility goddess and all.  New leaves, new shoots and vines.  Shoots and vines, shoots and vines, leaves- oh and flowers.  Don’t forget those fucking flowers.  She’d done blooms and blossoms more times than she could count.  No, no hell raising for her.  Each day passed into the next tending the gardens of tedium.

This particular evening wasn’t really all that different from any other, just being a blossom in the shady hours of the great green grain goddess’ day.  But it’s tougher being a shadow some days than others. 

Proserpine actually had some pretty good prospects going on in the employability department.  She vacillated as to whether she wanted to go into wooded grove design or residential meadows for hinds and faery folk.  She had contacts in both fields that would be happy to take her on.

Unfortunately mom held a tight system when it came to creative control, so larger projects were usually either subjugated and tacked onto already existing construction or dropped by the wayside and seen as being extravagant or simply unnecessary embellishment. 

Mom also seemed to think that party planning and human relations were the way to go.  This seemed almost un-feminist, considering that she could be a real liberal spouting her fluffy reclaiming, pink, “if women ruled the earth” bullshit.  That and socialized health care.  The woman was an utter bleeding heart.  Maybe she could get her accused of treason and incarcerated as a constellation.  Hmmm.  Always a thought.  You’d think she’d want me to grow armpit hair and asparagus someplace bohemian rather than adorn the arms of the empire.

With mom you are always the creation, never the creator.  Trust her to find her a job as a career bouquet.  Always those fucking flowers.  What a euphemism.  Flowers for fucking.  Am I the flower or the arranger?  Does it matter?  I was grown by a greater gardener.

Later they would say I was out dancing around picking flowers with friends.  Talk about white washing.  Lily white even.

They were just beginning for the evening; the drummers coming together in insistent rhythm and the dancers spiraling inward towards the fire, doubling back across the lines of cov’ners only to dip and wind inwards once again.  The dance sped on and a low hum filled the air.  Suddenly stopping in place as one, they throw arms upwards to the starry sky.  Cue the breezes and her hair billows and sways with the branches at the corner of the clearing.  Ready 3, 2, 1 -and moon, the ritual is about to begin.

Before she could speak, all hell broke loose. -  Literally.  The locals found it disturbing enough to see the ground open up, but to see their priestess swept from their midst and the ground to seal itself behind her was later agreed upon as nothing short of miraculous by all who bore witness.  They were first relieved, then greatly alarmed for assorted reasons to discover that the abducted priestess was not a local farm girl but the fostered daughter of a Goddess.


Through the eyes of a goddess

Trust mom to make it all about her; her grief, her search, her need.  Give me a break.  I mean - as if.  It wasn’t exactly a joy ride for me either. That and she barely noticed I existed up until this point.  Anyways.  Back to me.  That guy drove like a fucking maniac.  His hands were like stone and ice.  He gave me chills to the bone.

When I was left with a group of shades and told to prepare for presentation at court I wasn’t nearly as worried as I was for about the first twenty minutes.  Aside from being manhandled and needing a shower, I was alright, and fairly interested in what was going to happen next.  After all, I may have ward of Demeter stamped on my forehead in the land of the living, but there was nothing around that clearly classified as “living” so there was a good chance that this was outside of moms realms.

That night I dressed for dinner at court with more than a little anticipation.  “Do the dead really eat?  What do they eat?  Where does it go?”   The silks of watered blues and grays defined the earth tones of skin and hair with their cool boundaries.  The carved stone and forged metals in the room were excitingly alien and oddly comforting all at once. 

While it was dormant, life did slumber within these deep caverns.  Like a dedicant lighting a candle I drew a crocus from the dark earth. 

“There we go again with the flowers.  Fucking flowers.”

The ordeal

She descended the stairs fully expecting to be announced and ushered in directly, but instead was brought to an anteroom where she was instructed to remove her clothing and jewelry.  So much for dressing for court.  Shades with hands like drafts from damp places blindfolded her and bound her; neck, hand, hip and heel.  She was then brought before the dark God, and pushed to her knees.  The blindfold was removed.

There he stood, the driver of this afternoon.  Not the anemic haze of lore, but the steely master of the forge of souls.  He rose to his feet, and crossed the distance between them in long strides. To her surprise, he bowed, and knelt before her.  “Stay with me always.” Streaks of blue and gray crackled through his eyes.




“Look, it’s great that you’re bowled over by the fertility goddess routine- but there really isn’t much I can do for you short of a few flowers.  I’m not really your abundance and prosperity type.  You might do better looking up my mom.  I’ve got a card. She’d have you living in a virtual underground paradise.  You should see what she’s done for the Tuatha.”  She tried not to stammer, looking into the cold eyes holding her within their focus- 

she almost continued talking, explaining her mothers utter lack of interest in her, then decided it might be counterproductive to rescue attempts and barely held her tongue.

“You are beautiful.  Stay with me always” His voice bore traces of the thunder that emanated from the mountains above, splitting the earth allowing steam and fire to escape.

“I never talk politics over social pretenses.  I really don’t have the authority anyways.  Let’s enjoy the evening and then tomorrow, first thing we’ll sit down and hammer something out.”

He sneered.  No, sneered wouldn’t be the word. A sneer would be too simple to do justice to his expression.   With a look that was nearly predatory -by its very nature, hungry -perhaps… threatening?  he moved towards her.  Like lightning, he was before her; on his feet, drawn to full stature; his sword raised and the shadow of steel fell across her face, like the bruises she was certain would come.  From between clenched teeth, this time, demanding: “You will abide with me.  Always.”

“Uhhhhhh.  You don’t seem to be in the mood to discuss the terms of my visit.”  She grinned in an attempt at levity, only to wince as the sword fell back into its scabbard with a swish which she couldn’t help but find ominous.   


No Really

Alright.  So far we’ve got all the makings of one of those bodice ripper grocery store novels.  Brooding bad guy with sort of dated clothing, underemployed, bored pre-Hellenic Greek chick with parents in big business.  No big deal.  Although at the moment the comforts of home didn’t seem like such a bad deal.  People don’t run around waving swords as if they’re chasing butterflies with them for one thing.  Captain schpoogedy boogedy out there on the other hand seems to think he’s impressive.

I don’t know who he thinks he’s kidding,   Yeah it’s foreign, but come on.  He’s a god.  A god of the Underworld...forged metal.  It’s a given.  He’s all but got Hephaestus in his pants pocket.  Point taken.  All the same, the antics with the sword were immature and unnecessary.  I’m not impressed. 

Since the shades – the drafts rather, left, I’ve been sitting here alone.

Hopefully they have more people from the search parties actually SEARCHING rather than comforting ma.  I have a sinking feeling the ratios may be awfully close though.  I have a horrible (hysterical?) impulse to make the walls of the room bloom.  Whether it’s a moment of rebellion -an effort to feel like I’m in charge of something, or a moment of homesickness, I can’t tell.  How will I know when to get up without the sun?

Oh look.  The drafts are back. 
« Last Edit: May 01, 2007, 06:48:39 pm by Mandi, Reason: spotted another grammar issue... » Logged

I'm gonna tell my son to join a circus so that death is cheap
And games are just another way of life
And I'm gonna tell my son to be a prophet of mistakes
Because for every truth there are half a million lies
And I'm gonna lock my son up in a tower
Till he learns to let his hair down far enough to climb outside.
-LIz Pahir

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Mandi
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Last Login:June 03, 2011, 01:52:13 am
United States United States

Religion: ergghhhmmmmnnnnn....
Posts: 1997


Did the big meanies break yer speshulness

Blog entries (48)



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« Reply #1: May 01, 2007, 05:26:03 pm »

I think one of the challenges needs to involve separating from her previous life, and another will be finding some pleasure in someones hands that she's already described as ice and stone.  Something to do with humility as well since she seems to think the *drafts* are pretty pathetic.
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I'm gonna tell my son to join a circus so that death is cheap
And games are just another way of life
And I'm gonna tell my son to be a prophet of mistakes
Because for every truth there are half a million lies
And I'm gonna lock my son up in a tower
Till he learns to let his hair down far enough to climb outside.
-LIz Pahir
Melamphoros
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Kiss My Scythe

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« Reply #2: May 02, 2007, 09:06:45 am »



A retelling of a classic Greek Myth with S&M undertones--I like it Cheesy

The original focuses on Demeter so much that I wonder if the "rescue" had more to do with Demeter not wanting her daughter in such a place than if Persephone really wanted to leave.  I know that there are some versions where she falls in love with Hades and others where she became as cold as he was.

I can't wait until the second part Smiley
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Aster Breo
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« Reply #3: May 02, 2007, 11:39:43 pm »

I'm stuck.  Proserpine needs 6 challenges, the seventh being her return to her mothers "loving' arms.  Having issues even.  Any ideas?

No ideas to help you (I suck at creative writing).  But I wanted to say that I'm looking forward to reading more, and that I LOVED this line:

Quote
Like a dedicant lighting a candle I drew a crocus from the dark earth. 

“There we go again with the flowers.  Fucking flowers.”
Logged

"The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place."  ~ George Bernard Shaw
Mandi
Adept Member
*****
Last Login:June 03, 2011, 01:52:13 am
United States United States

Religion: ergghhhmmmmnnnnn....
Posts: 1997


Did the big meanies break yer speshulness

Blog entries (48)



Ignore
« Reply #4: May 03, 2007, 09:33:02 am »

No ideas to help you (I suck at creative writing).  But I wanted to say that I'm looking forward to reading more, and that I LOVED this line:


I like that part too.  She's in a rut.  No doubt about it.  The security blanket of ma, she's definitely got an attitude problem - even though she says ma doesn't give a flying fig about her, she's pretty high and mighty.  Very secure in being the bored princess.  Very *over it* which comes up later in the somewhat hysterical consideration of making the walls bloom with some upper worldly graffiti.

She's fighting to remain "over it" and I'm trying to come up with a plan for Hades to tame her sense of entitlement.  Teach a little humility and compassion.  Maybe I'm not 'in love with' Proserpine enough to relish teaching her a lesson or six.

I need to think more like Hades to get in the right mental space.  lol.  He seems to think she's pretty special.  He has plans for her!
Logged

I'm gonna tell my son to join a circus so that death is cheap
And games are just another way of life
And I'm gonna tell my son to be a prophet of mistakes
Because for every truth there are half a million lies
And I'm gonna lock my son up in a tower
Till he learns to let his hair down far enough to climb outside.
-LIz Pahir
Mandi
Adept Member
*****
Last Login:June 03, 2011, 01:52:13 am
United States United States

Religion: ergghhhmmmmnnnnn....
Posts: 1997


Did the big meanies break yer speshulness

Blog entries (48)



Ignore
« Reply #5: May 03, 2007, 09:34:12 am »

A retelling of a classic Greek Myth with S&M undertones--I like it Cheesy

The original focuses on Demeter so much that I wonder if the "rescue" had more to do with Demeter not wanting her daughter in such a place than if Persephone really wanted to leave.  I know that there are some versions where she falls in love with Hades and others where she became as cold as he was.

I can't wait until the second part Smiley

lol, you got the picture all right.  Maybe I should do a 'Demeter' section, something about when she heard the news...  yeahhhhsss  I like that.   Grin
Logged

I'm gonna tell my son to join a circus so that death is cheap
And games are just another way of life
And I'm gonna tell my son to be a prophet of mistakes
Because for every truth there are half a million lies
And I'm gonna lock my son up in a tower
Till he learns to let his hair down far enough to climb outside.
-LIz Pahir

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