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acequeenking · 4 years

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Hadestober #13

13) Take My Hand - Persephone goes down to the Underworld for the first time after Orpheus manages to get it right. (T, Hermes & Persephone, Hades/Persephone)

Persephone drinks the summer away. Doesn’t trust the man to hold to his own promises, not anymore, not after having been burned so many times. She drinks away a good half of May, June, and even July.

“Might want to slow down, green thang,” Hermes says, gives her a weak little smile. She gives him a sharp-eyed glare.

“Sooner or later, he’s likely to ruin it.” She sips down her whiskey, good and burning. He’d introduced her to whiskey long ago: ‘fore that, she was more liable to get drunk with something out of her mama’s wares, a little wine, a little potash. “Always does. Kinda his job, you know, ruinin’ things. Entropy’s a bit of a bitch.”

“Your man don’t seem to have ruined everything.” He flicks his head over at Orpheus and Eurydice, his little boy and their runaway-now-staying-put, giggling over at the bar. Persephone remembers being that much in love. Eurydice thumbs Orpheus’ suspenders, and Persephone’s heart cracks a little bit at a familiarity she can just barely remember feeling.

“A stopped clock is right, once or twice.” She shoots back, then swallows down her liquor.

“All I’m saying is…” Hermes waves his hand, with a weariness she doesn’t think man has any right to feel. Isn’t like they’ve been in circumstances such as this before. “Nothing will change if you don’t try.”

“I’ll try,” she says, after guzzling down the last of her whiskey. “When and what I feel like.”

“Alright,” Hermes’ says, and says it a bit sad, and there’s a twinge in her chest there, knowing as always that he is her closest brother, and she is somehow fucking this summer all up despite his caring. Mama always said there’d be days like this. “Just think about it, for me? For him?”

His eyes gravitate toward the young couple: Orpheus holds out his hand, and Eurydice takes it, smiling like she ain’t just had to walk out of hell not two months ago. Persephone wonders, idly, what Eurydice did with those old worker’s clothes. Probably burned them.

She would.

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “Best I can do.”

“That’s enough,” Hermes says, but the tone says it plain: no, it ain’t.

Persephone drinks her way through a variety of infrequently sampled delights through September. Been rare, right rare, for her to be up so late, thanks to Mr. Lover-I-Was-Lonely, Mr. Lover-I-Was-Despairing no longer showing up so early, by some miracle, well, she has some time to burn and preferably burn down some of her gullet with it. Hard cider ain’t never been her favorite, but it’s a good novelty and she sips her cup while she mulls Mr. Hermes’ words right up til it’s time ot wait for Mr. Hades clarion-bell.

Because the thing is: Hermes is not half-right. Persephone doesn’t owe her old ball and chain much; ask anybody downstairs, and they would tell you – well, after you pour a little firewater in’em – that their lady has been the one dealing with most of his bullshit, not the other way around. Her problem is one that they keep dancing around, because she can’t bend herself down to get out of it, no matter how much he wants her to: six months up, six months down. Holy route, and they’ve all seen what happens when she doesn’t keep to schedule.

Man might as well ask brother Paulie not to make the sun shine. Some things just ain’t – ain’t malleable. Fixed. And her husband just isn’t built to be able to accept it for long.

Except, of course, that he seems to be awful quiet. So mayhaps he finally has.

“What’s he doing down there?” She asks, half-fearing the answer, because there are a lot of desperate women and now she is well aware that he’s willing to look for replacements if pushed far enough. Asks it casual of Hermes, asks it over her gin and tonic, fizzy with hope. “My old husband.”

Hermes raises an eyebrow at her. “Think he’s waitin’ for you.”

“And how, pray tell is he waiting?” She takes a drink, presses the subject.

Hermes just shakes his head. Refusing to give up the goods, and odds are good the reason is that Mr. Hads himself is holding him to such. But it isn’t out of nature for Hermes to play coy.

“Waiting alone,” Hermes says, quiet. “I’ll say that much.”

She gives him a sour look and he just laughs, won’t say more.

“Just wait and see, green thang. Wait and see.” She sips at her drink, but she doesn’t feel like drinking. Lousy old Hermes just seems to suck the fun out of it all.

“I don’t do well anymore,” she says, quiet. “Not with his surprises.”

“Maybe it’s not a surprise,” Hermes says. He reaches out, holds her hand for a good long moment, squeezes it, drops it. “Maybe it’s just what it is, sunshine-sister.”

They don’t talk a long while after that; Seph spends her time watching Orpheus tend bar, Miss Eurydice helping him out by serving the patrons. But, since Hermes gets relatively few customers, well, it’s mostly Persephone playing looky-loo and watching the kids make eyes at one another. She wonders: were they ever like that? Himself and herself? Were they ever quite so innocent? She doesn’t think so. Himself was jaded from the beginning, and well…she weren’t far behind. Always been the type to just cling to what she could take and not expect much more than that. Cup half-empty kind of girl, you know? Kind who always has to fill her cup, least she think too much about herself.

She stares at Eurydice, perhaps a bit overlong; girl blushes at the attention and moves next to Orpheus, who holds her so easily, and for a moment, Persephone feels a bright jealousy take ahold her heart; been many a year since her husband has done more than hold her hand in public. Was a time when she made that mountain of a man bend to kiss her.

Hermes must see the despair on her face because he tuts and grabs her hand once more.

“You know how rare it is, for a man to know how good he’s got?” Hermes says, in a low voice. “Even the kids, simple as they are, can’t tell a good thing too often til they lose it. Trust me. I been around. I know.”

“Your point?” Persephone might be almost as old as time, but it ain’t necessarily made her patient. Critical flaw that seems to flow through most of her kind.

But not Hermes.

“It’s a miracle, ain’t it?” He smiles, a little too pointedly, old Hermes. “To love someone so much you fear the second they ain’t in your sight.”

“Starts off feeling romantic,” Persephone says dryly. “But trust me, Hermes, it gets old, being appreciated like that.”

He looks at her; nods twice more. She looks at the serious look on his face and notices, for the first time, how his suit is looking a little bit more threadbare than it used to. Didn’t he used to have some feathers round that jacket? Seems a time she could recall him being proud of such.

“Can’t tell you that your reasons against him ain’t good ones,” Hermes says. “Lord knows, you two have had your ups and your downs. More downs than ups, I know. But take it from a man who ain’t never – never felt that urge to tie myself down—”

She rolls her eyes; only thing to do, with such an uncomfortable speech. Never liked these big emotional speeches; give her a moment’s tic or tell. The unsaid, brother, sometimes says it a lot more comfortably.

“Well…” Hermes cleared his throat. “Seems to me that it’s rare enough, two people finding one another like that, falling out and then in love, over and over again. Almost miraculous, right?”

“We’re gods, if you believe in miracles at this age…” He cuts her off, with one elegant hand.

“I believe in optimism. Always got a chance of turning better, sister.” His eyes glitter. “If, perhaps, someone gives such a chance…”

She bats her hand away. “Maybe I’ll consider it,” she says, finally. She stares down at Orpheus and Eurydice: Orpheus holds out his hand, and there’s the girl, grinning, taking that hand, so easy, so easy. Maybe that’s youth, she thinks, that slip of hand in hand, so easy, not weighed down by history. Or maybe it’s love, where you ignore the weight of it all because you believe, for one moment, that weight shared is weight eased.

And as she tries to think of a return, a bonmot, a repartee to Hermes’ great big speech, well, she don’t get the chance. She’s silenced as a high train whistle roars.

Hermes flips back his fancy sleeve, checks his watch. “Right on time, sister,” he says. He rises. “Best be goin’.”

And Persephone, well, she thinks: suppose it’s time. She grabs her coat, and it feels heavy on her shoulders, if smaller than the gordian knot in her belly. Hermes offers her his arm, ever the gentleman, but she shakes her head, not in the mood to share.

She’s a bit drunk, and she doesn’t need any distraction besides her husband himself.

“Orpheus,” Hermes says, too casual: “Watch the bar.”

She looks behind, sees the kids smiling at the bar. Doesn’t seem like they’ve heard at all, and for a brief, bitter moment, she envies them. Then she’s out, and she’s walking.

And the train door is there all too quickly.

And a man steps out all too fast.

There’s nothing different about him in particular: same white hair, same dark eyes, same Cheshire smile, same obnoxious glasses. He thinks they make him look young, but they don’t. She stares at him carefully, neutrally: he smiles, flicks off the hated glasses.

And she sees in that moment how his eyes tick, the nervousness that is evident in them; sees the redness of his ears and cheeks, the heavy breath that tells her that he’s been thinking of this moment for dozens of hours. And it’s that, more than any speech of Hermes’ or any glimpses of the young ones, that renders her heart softer towards the man: the way that hand shakes just a lil’ bit when he reaches for her, because he’s nervous. Mr. Hades is a mighty king, but she reduced him to a man once. Seems liable she might be able to again.

“Hey,” he says, the most neutral of all openings. She’d critique it but she, too, struggles to find words, the snappish openings of so many years having erased the old kindliness.

“Hey,” she says. Disgusting neutral, careful in a way they’ve never been. But neutral is safe, and maybe she takes his hand and grips it, and maybe he doesn’t mention the alcohol on her breath, and maybe when he pulls her toward her, well, maybe his hand doesn’t feel heavy after all.

Maybe she’s a fool for thinking that, but she does, and when he leans close to give her a kiss on her cheek after how-long, well: she believes, she believes.

“Let’s go home,” she says. And she holds him tight, and she steps on that train, and they go together to parts simultaneously too-well-known and too-unknown all at once.

But at least they go together.

#Hadestown #Hades/Persephone #Hades #Hadestober #Hermes #Persephone #Persephone (Hadestown)#Hades (Hadestown)#Hermes (Hadestown)#So somehow I am 10 days? Behind? Sigh #Stupid school and work #it will be the end of me #anyway #I'm going to keep trying to update until I fulfill all 30 though clearly its gonna take me more than october gdi

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jordswriteswords · 5 years

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Clextober19: Fall Festivities

Back to school was the favourite time of year for most. Parents were overjoyed that their children would be supervised while they were working; children were overjoyed the see their friends again; teachers were overjoyed to… well, they were overjoyed for the weekends.

Madi, on the other hand, hated back to school. Being a half witch meant she had half the human antibodies, and half the witch antibodies, therefore, she was in for a whole dose of unrelenting colds during the first two months. She would get sick at least twice in that short amount of time, causing her to miss a lot of school and a lot of the time that children spent making and solidifying their friendships.

But, she couldn't go to school. Not when her nose was stuffy and running and she was sniffling and sneezing and turning her mother into an elephant, blowing her Aunt Raven up like fireworks, and sending her mama into the desert and back again in a wiggle of her nose.

But Ms. Indra insisted that she be present for the first field trip of the year. The kids were going to the apple farm, after all, and Lexa had volunteered as the class chaperone.

In hindsight, Madi should have known that her class would have been more interested in Lexa and her superstar status than the actual field trip. Even as the ten year old curled up in her mama’s shoulder, she was still having to deal with boys and girls interrupting to get a picture with her mama or ask for her autograph.

Madi sucked down the hot tea that her mama had packed in her travel mug, a blend of echinacea and magical herbs to fight off both sides of the cold virus. It relieved the aches and pains, and most importantly, stopped the sniffles for the time being.

The class wandered through the apple farm for a majority of the day, getting lost in corn mazes, learning how to bale hay for the animals, petting tiny lambs in the petting zoo, and drinking warm cups of apple cider and eating apple pie.

Madi had made it throughout most of the day without mishap aside from sneezing and blowing her mom across the corn field. Lexa snapped her fingers and fixed the holes that were created before anyone had noticed, though.

The last part of the trip was the horse rides around the farm. Each child in the class took a turn on one of the ten horses for a tour of the entire farm.

Madi brushed her hand along the nose of a chocolate pony. “Hey. Your name is Ryder. It’s cute.”

The horse stomped it's foot in the mud and shook it's head up and down. “I think my handler was a punny guy.”

Madi chuckled. “That’s actually funny.”

The horse took a step back. “No way you can understand me.”

Madi smiled up at the big nose, lifting her hands in deference like her mama had taught her to approach animals. “Duh. You speak English. You just have a weird accent.”

The horse neighed, catching Lexa’s attention. and she took a quick picture of her daughter smiling up at the giant and sent it off to her wife.

Ryder bowed his head and said, “Well I’ll be, aren't you just a smart lil cookie. Hey Cleatus! Lookie o’er here! We got us our own Dr. Doohickey!”

“Dr. Doolittle,” Madi corrected, and Ryder huffed at her.

A black stallion galloped over towards them and sniffed Madi’s neck. “She smells like apples. I love apples!”

She giggled at the contact, and pulled an apple out of her pocket, holding it out for Cleatus.

“You can hear us?” Cleatus asked.

Madi nodded and giggled more when he stepped right into her space, his giant eyeball looking into hers.

A white mare saddled up to Madi shortly after, nudging her bum with her nose.

“Ponyelope,” Ryder scolded. “She’s a good one.”

They were interrupted by the sounds of her classmate yelling. “Look at this weirdo!” Josephine Lightborne pointed at Madi, who was surrounded by horses. “She can’t make real friends so she hangs out with animals!”

Madi’s classmates pointed and laughed, and Lexa had to squeeze her hands together to stop them from snapping and giving all the ten year olds wedgies. But, if Josephine ended up stepping in a suddenly appearing cow-pie, Lexa was none the wiser.

“Don’t mind them, darlin’” Ryder consoled. “Let’s just go on a good ol’ fashioned ride. That’ll cheer ya’up, I promise,” he neighed.

Madi sighed, but smiled when Ryder rubbed his nose against her cheek. Ryder took off at a slow cadence once Madi climbed aboard, describing all the parts of the farm to her. He wandered as far away from the rest of the group as he could without drawing suspicion to point out the magical flowers in the fields and the magical animals that could only be seen by those with abilities.

The path wound around and through the pumpkin fields, and Madi tensed. "I'm allergic to pumpkins!" She hissed to the horse.

Ryder slowed his trot, but the cowboy handler that was leading the group circled around and forced him to carry on.

Her nose tickled, and she looked over to Lexa with fear in her eyes. She clutched at Ryder’s fur, and her heels dug into his sides.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," Ryder said, trying to console his rider. He tried to move faster, but his handler wasn't letting him, tired of his antics.

Madi sneezed and all hell broke loose.

She had turned the pumpkin patch into a giant, living creatures that scared Josephine's horse into bucking with her still on. She fell off the back of the horse and straight into the mud with a scream.

The rest of the horses followed suit, kicking and bucking their riders off so they could free themselves.

"Whoa, whoa!" The handlers tried, but the terrified animals wouldn't heed. The animals kicked and whined, and started to run off.

"What did I do?" Madi questioned, her voice shaky with sadness.

Ryder didn’t buck his rider off; however. He took off with Madi on his back, straight to the rest of the now free horses. All the horses had run about a hundred yards from the scare and we're circling the ground, huffing angrily.

"What was that?"

"I'll kill it!"

"I hate pumpkins!"

"Fight back!"

Madi jumped off the horse and approached the pack with her hands up. "Whoa, whoa," The horses were frazzled and frightened. "I know you're all scared. It's okay, it's my fault."

"Kill the girl!" One horse yelled, neighing and rearing back on its hind legs. Ryder moved in front of her. "Calm down, Otis, she's just a girl!"

"It was an accident!" Madi pleaded. "It was an accident. I can't control my powers."

"She scared us!"

"But we're fine!" Ryder said.

"Let's just all calm down," Madi said. "I'm sorry I scared you. I won't let it happen again."

The horses huffed and sneezed, but Madi wouldn’t move from the middle of the pack.

"Madi, no!" Her teacher called.

"Wait, wait," Lexa said, grabbing the teacher and stopping them from interfering. “They’re calming down.”

“Please, just come back to your owners. I promise, no more magic. No more pumpkins.”

Ponyelope looked around, her ears twitching with nerves.

“Please,” Madi breathed.

Ponyelope took one step, then two, then moved right past Madi and headed towards the handlers. The rest of the horses followed, and Ryder pressed his big head into Madi’s chest. She laughed and hugged his nose.

The class looked on as Madi corralled the horses and got them to follow her back to the handlers.

"How did you do that?" Aden asked when she got back.

Madi just shrugged.

"It's because - it's because she's a weirdo!" Josephine said, covered from head to toe in mud. "She doesn't have any friends so she talks to animals, and even they don't listen to her!"

A few of her classmates laughed at Madi, whose cheeks became warm with embarrassment. She ran back to the bus, and Lexa trailed after her.

"Hey, shut up!" Aden Forrest, they typically shy and well mannered boy, yelled. "She saved your life, Josephine! She saved all of us from getting really hurt!"

***

"Mads?" Lexa asked, slowly sitting next to her daughter on the large seat of the deserted bus.

The only sound was a sniffle, and then Lexa felt the soft flutter of snowflakes cascading onto her head.

"I hate this," Madi whispered. "I hate having magic! I hate being human! I hate that I'm just a weird half-thing!" The sound of her voice grew louder until she shouted at her mama. She turned and punched the seat in front of them as tears poured from her eyes.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Madi," Lexa said, dusting the snow off her shoulder and then wrapping her daughter in a warm hug.

Madi sniffed again as the tears fell and Lexa was pelted with sand and dirt.

Lexa snapped and created an umbrella to hover above her and her daughter to stop the onslaught.

"You have so many special gifts, Madi, but the best one is that you're kind. Don't let someone like Josephine take that away from you. What you did today made me more proud than you learning your first spell. You're a great person, and kids are just dumb. It'll get better, I promise. If you want to be sad right now, or if you can't help it, that's okay. I'm right here. But, never hate who you are. You’re the best parts of me and the best parts of your mom. You’re an incredible kid, Madi."

Madi leaned into her mama and hugged her tightly around her neck. "I love you, mama."

"Love you too, Mads."

Aden was the first student to enter the bus since the incident, and his heavy, awkward footsteps sounded until he was standing directly in front of Madi and Lexa’s seat. "Hey, sorry, Hi, Mrs. Griffin-Woods. I'm sorry to interrupt, but uhh," Aden said, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. He had a piece of paper in his hand that he folded and unfolded methodically.

Madi hid her face in Lexa's collar, and it took everything inside of the brunette not to snap at the boy. "Yes, Aden?" She asked, already pulling her pen out of her pocket to sign his paper.

"Sorry, um, thank you for offering, but I don’t want your autograph.” He ran his hand through his shaggy blonde hair, “but can you give this to Madi for me? I just want her to know that she's the coolest person ever and say thank you for saving us." His earnest blue eyes pleaded with Lexa and he thrust the paper into her face. She gracefully retrieved it from his fingers and opened it only after he scurried away and off the bus.

Lexa’s heart melted at what she saw.

Aden had written a big 'thank you' on the cover of the card. Inside, all the students in the class signed the left side of the page. On the right side, he had drawn a picture of Madi with a cape and a horse. And on the back, he scrawled, 'Madi, thank you for saving us. You're a superhero. Can I sit with you at lunch tomorrow? - your friend, Aden'

#clextober19 #13daysofclexa #the 100 clarke #clarkegriffin #clarke griffin #clarke #clarke x lexa #commander lexa #lexathe100 #lexaedit #the 100 lexa #lexadeservedbetter #accidental magic #modern magic #magic!au #magic #witch!lexa #witch!madi

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