The Gift of Gab

     Spring. Hades thought bitterly. Again.

      The Lord of the Underworld watched with glowing eyes as a single flower petal bobbed slowly passed his nose. Snatching it out of the air in one swift motion, Hades reduced the leaflet to embers in a small violet puff of smoke. Hermes, who’d been relaxing on the bow of an olive tree nearby, eyed him discomfitly from his perch.

     “The appeal continues to escape me.” Hades jeered, flicking flakes of stiff gray ash away from his fingers.

     Hades was on one of his semi-regular reconnaissance missions, gathering any salvageable blackmail material he could on his brothers. Since his retrieval from Tartarus, he’d been under close observation by his Olympian constituents. They couldn’t risk another titanic fiasco.

     Poor Hermes had even (begrudgingly) been assigned his not-so-temporary chaperone. How hard could it be? Zeus had mused. Report any suspicious behavior back to me. Which had sounded simple enough at the time, but everything Hades did seemed suspicious and keeping him out of trouble proved more difficult than Hermes could’ve imagined. Especially when it was a slow day in the Underworld.

     Suddenly, a faint orange glow—like a loose beam of sunlight—caught Hades’s attention from some distance away.

     “Who is that?” Hades whistled.  Hermes turned to see what could possibly be interesting enough to distract him from grousing about Spring.

     The messenger god squinted through his spectacles and caught a glimpse of her.

     Across the field from them, standing under an apricot tree, was a woman. Only, Hades judged by the way she glowed, and the way she was able to simply poof! fruit out thin air,  that she couldn’t possibly have been mortal.

     The pair of deities were close enough to this mystery goddess that the hankering God of the Dead could just make out how lovely she was; long copper curls, gentle, focused green eyes. Even from this distance, her benign disposition washed them both in a warm, comfortable sense of ease — the kind that Spring was known for. It was almost as if she herself was the season incarnate.

      One by one, the goddess continued plucking fruits lazily from the branches and dropping them into a basket at her feet.

     Hermes adjusted his spectacles, just barely catching an eager Hades by the neck of his chiton with the arc of his caduceus.

     “Whoa, whoa— cool it, Ace. That one’s off limits.”

     Hades tossed his hands down at his sides in frustration and rolled his eyes.

     “What’s the big deal? Geez, it’s like you topsiders are committed to keeping me from having a love life, like honestly.”

     The messenger deity wafted around Hades with ease, tossing a thumb over his shoulder toward the mystery goddess.

     “You know who that is, don’t you? That’s Demeter’s kid, man. Hustling her is a huge no-no.”

     “Hustle? Please — who said anything about hustling? I’m just trying to get the gal’s name.”

     Hermes tilted his little purple spectacles down with a skeptical look. The Lord of the Underworld ignored him.

     “So, you know her?” Hades had an all-too-familiar and unsettling gleam in his eye. The Lord of the Dead threw an arm around Hermes’s shoulders and offered him an impish grin.

     “What’s her name, huh? Hermes, babe —throw a death god a bone, will ya?”

     Hermes looked about ready to protest when all the bells went off in his head at once. Ding! Ding! Ding! —  maybe he was onto something here.

      With Hades distracted — and happy —chasing a wife around like a love-struck puppy dog, he and the rest of the Olympians could take a load off. No more half-baked schemes or hostile takeover attempts. No more pointless intrusions or aggressive come-ons. And most importantly, Hermes wouldn’t have to take time out of his already overbooked schedule to babysit. They’d be sitting pretty for the rest of eternity. It was perfect.

      At the poor gal’s expense, He thought only slightly ruefully. Or not, maybe by some miracle she’ll actually like him.

     They’ll work it out, a desperate Hermes concluded mentally, waving his hand in the air, trying to ease his slightly guilty conscience.

     “What are you asking me for? You should ask her yourself, you know— the old-fashioned way.” The messenger god shrugged nonchalantly with a smile teetering on sly, tapping his caduceus in his open palm.

     Hades fluffed out his chiton and smoothed back his smoldering coiffure.

     “Sit tight, flyboy, and watch the master at work—”

     Now, it would have been difficult to miss Hades’s broad physique looming above her like a black cloud, blocking her strip of sun, but if she knew he was standing there beside the trunk she didn’t acknowledge him. The beautiful mystery goddess simply continued to pick tiny golden fruits off the tree and drop them into her already overfilled basket.

     Hades cleared his throat after a few moments, and she looked up at him only briefly.

     “Look— harvest complaints are Demeter’s department.” She said, a pinch sourly, “I just work here.”

     “If you have a problem with this year’s crop, take it up with her.”

     Hades blinked.

     “Seriously? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

     She eyed him for a moment. He waited for her to show some sign of recognition, but the goddess didn’t even flinch. Hades gestured toward her with outstretched hands.

     “No offense, but your Ma was the last thing on my mind when I saw you standing over here— I mean, c’mon, really? Pretty little thing like you, all by yourself? I’da been a fool to pass up the opportunity to introduce myself.”

     He thrust out his long skeletal fingers in greeting as if to shake her hand.

     “Hey, how ya doin’? Hades, Lord of the Dead, Reaper of Souls, yada yada. You get it.”

     She chuckled softly and swept bronze curls over her shoulder, her tenor lightening some. She manifested another perfectly ripe apricot on a low hanging branch.

     “Oh, I’m familiar.”

     Hades pursed his lips and steepled his fingers with a smirk.

     “I see my reputation precedes me— what am I, some kinda celebrity up there on the roof of the world?”

     “More like a felon,” She retorted with a dry smile, turning back to her work. Charmed by her repartee, Hades appeared on the other side of the tree and leaned forward onto the trunk.

     “That’s cute— you’re cute— Well, you know, beggars can’t be choosers I guess but, hey— I saw you standing over here, all by your lonesome and thought you could use some company. What’s your name, chickadee?”

     The mystery goddess popped out a hip and rooted her palm to it. Hermes watched Hades’s desperate flirtations, amused, and slightly hopeful, from a safe distance. He’d half expected the almost entirely anti-social Persephone to brush Hades off immediately and was pleasantly surprised that—somehow— the God of the Dead had held his ground.

     Hermes crossed his fingers behind his back. Home stretch— here’s hoping he doesn’t blow it.

     “Take a wild guess.” She replied. Hades’s reputation for hitting on nearly every unattended goddess in the Pantheon wasn’t lost on her, but she was bored, and this beat the hours she’d otherwise be spending listening to her mother wax poetic over a tablet of annual crop output.

     He rubbed his hands together and grinned.

     “Oh, Ho Ho— you’re not going to make this easy on me, are you? Let’s see, let’s see…”

     The Lord of the Underworld slumped coolly against the trunk, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He studied her with a bold and scrupulous eye. Hades wasn’t one to back off in the face of a challenge, and for someone who lacked patience in pretty much every capacity, he had a knack for getting himself mixed up in long-term plots.

     “Judging by your accoutre— very lovely, by the way, really brings out the green in your eyes— you’re some… kinda… nature goddess, am I right?”

     “You’re getting warmer.” She tapped the tip of her nose, tickled.

     “Something springy— like uh, Juniper? Nah. Jennifer maybe? Josephine, Jacqueline?”

     The goddess rolled her eyes, and he could tell he was beginning to get under her skin, “What were you the god of again? Annoying people to death? You aren’t even going alphabetically.”

      “What can I say? I like to start in the middle and work my way out,”

     Hades walked two fingers up the ridge of her shoulder where she swatted them away casually with the back of her hand. Unbothered by her annoyance, Hades smirked. Sensing he was finally starting to wear her down, the death god dug his heels in and leaned closer to her.

     “You know what, I think I’ve got it— Jane right? Maybe it’s Julia? Johanna? Listen babe, I can do this all day.”

     “That’s it—you’re impossible.” She threw up her hands with an airy, exasperated sigh and bent to gather her spoils.

     Hades chuckled, reached around her and stole one of her apricots. The goddess lifted a brow and pursed her lips.

     “You know babe, I’m pretty sure this is the longest any goddess has tolerated me, like ever, I’m starting to think I’m growing on you...” He wiggled his brows at his own pun, rolling the fruit back and forth in his palm as it shriveled into a wrinkly, indistinct lump, decaying nearly instantly at his touch. She let out an exaggerated groan of disapproval.

     “Unbelievable. He makes jokes now.”

     Hades wiped his hands clean on his chiton of the rotted apricot juice and gave a defensive shrug, gesturing animatedly at her person.

     “What? That was some of my best material. C’mon, seriously, Petals— can I call you Petals? — what’s a guy gotta do to get a girl’s name huh? You want me to dance a jig? I’ll do it, don’t tempt me,”

     The goddess set her closed fists on her waist and sighed wearily.

     “You really aren’t going to leave me alone until I tell you, huh?”

     Hades examined his fingernails and gave her an obstinate shake of his head.

     “Persephone,” she said finally, extending out her hand to him. “Goddess of Spring.”

     Hades’s face lit up with a smug look of satisfaction. Using her outstretched hand as leverage, he pulled her in just close enough that she could feel his breath on her face.

     “Charmed,” He hummed, pressing a loud kiss to the back of her hand.

     “So, Persy—"

     “Persephone—"

     “Yeah, yeah— right, right— Persy,”

      Before Hades could finish his thought, Persephone carefully pulled her hand away from him with a pleasantly bemused smile. Stepping backward, she bumped the heel of her sandal against her basket of apricots.

     “Sorry— Hades, this has been fun, but I know for a fact I’m not supposed to be talking to you and I’m sure you don’t want to get caught wandering around up here, so….” Persephone tossed her hand up in a parting gesture before collecting her fruit basket and leaning it expertly against her hip. Judging he had maybe a matter of seconds before she left and never came back, Hades lifted his hands haltingly.

     “Yeah— and if you know anything about me, then I’m sure you know I don’t follow the rules very well.” He insisted, following closely beside her.

     Persephone quirked a brow.

     “Hold on— listen, listen,”

     Hades floated around her silently like an early morning fog rolling off the Aegean. It might have bothered Persephone how quiet and quick he moved had she not already seen him do it once before. He plucked a freshly opened apricot blossom off the branch closest to them and delicately pinned back her hair with it.

     “You’re alone— I’m alone, what say we be alone together, huh?” He clasped his fingers together, “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some feminine company,”

     He expected immediate rejection. Every moment she spent not turning her nose up at him was, in his mind, a tiny victory. He figured it was now or never — cast in his line and see what he caught.

      “You mean, like a date?”

     “Yes! Exactly like a date, you read my mind,”

     She seemed to consider his request. Which to him was a good sign. Hades felt a long-buried part of himself begin to feel hopeful. What were the odds he might find himself so close to success? About as unlikely as you’d think.

     “As tempting as that sounds, we just met and—" Persephone smiled, delicately unpinning the blossom and placing it in his open palm, “I’m on duty,”

     “Semantics. C’mon, the world’s not gonna end if you play hookie for a day. What are you, miss-goodie-two-sandals or somethin’? Don’t you ever cut loose?” Hades crossed his index finger over his heart, “I promise I’m a better time than I look—"

     When she still didn’t seem convinced, Hades began to feel defeated. Across the field, the messenger god hovered.

     That’s my cue.

     Hermes appeared beside Hades before he could protest further and whispered behind his hand into the Lord of the Underworld’s ear,

     “Tell her you’ll bring your dog— chicks dig dogs, works like a charm.”

     Hermes grinned at the shrewd Persephone innocently. Hades straightened out the clasp on his chiton, cleared his throat and folded his hands once again.

     “Listen— I’ll bring my dog.”

     “Cerberus—?”

     Hades nodded. Her eyes glittered.

     Eagerly, and with considerably less hesitation than either visiting deity expected, Persephone yanked forward on Hades’s sleeve and blurted out an excited,