#arsephe

                  𝖞𝖊𝖘  𝖙𝖍𝖊  𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉  𝖜𝖆𝖘  𝖍𝖎𝖘  𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊,  𝖆𝖓𝖉  𝖆𝖘  𝖍𝖎𝖘  𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊  𝖎𝖙  𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖉  𝖙𝖍𝖊  𝖒𝖆𝖓  𝖍𝖊  𝖜𝖆𝖘  𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊 ,  lost  and  dark.  but  then  she  had  come,  to  change  his  world,  his  home  and  heart.  planting  in  such  a  light  that  not  even  the  darkest  of  toughts  could  fight  against.  somehow  persephone  had  found  her  way  inside  his  mind,  so  it  was  not  hard  when  he  couldn’t  find  her  in  the  throne  room  to  know  where  his  wife  would  be.  it  was  easy  to  reming  himself  the  one  place  she  could  find  anything  similar  to  home,  similar  to  the  place  from  where  she  had  come  from.  a  smile  came  to  his  lips  while  he  stood  against  the  frame  of  a  three  watching  while  the  light  touched  her  features  almost  making  her  glow  to  each  step  she  take.  even  bigger  was  the  smile  that  danced  on  his  lips  when  she  slowly  came  slower  to  him,  her  hands  were  so  soft  against  his  freshly  shaven  face.  he  did  not  mind  the  fact  that  those  souls  seemed  to  ran  with  only  the  sound  of  his  steps.  it  no  longer  bothered  him  because  she  smiled  when  the  sound  of  his  steps  came  into  the  room,  and  her  eyes  glow  when  she  found  him.               ❝   i  missed  you,  is  that  reason  enough  to  come  find  you ?   ❞

‘ i love you, i adore you. ’ the words are soft as she takes his hands in her own, freckled skin contrasting sharply to his. ‘ i lay my life before you, i only want you more and more. ’ theirs is a secret affair which her mother would surely end should she ever come to discover it -a thought that makes persephone shudder. ‘ finally it seems my lonely days are through, i’ve been waiting for   you. ’ 

" 𝐚𝐦 𝐢 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫? "   it’s a simple enough question,  she supposes,  but still a loaded one at best.   (  physically,  no.  she had no horns or tails or inhumanly sharp teeth or extra heads sprouting.  mentally ---- that was for the judge and jury to decide,  not them.  )   maybe she should be asking someone else,  someone who isn’t her blood and spirit and dna and father.  perhaps his answer would be skewed,  although charlotte highly suspects he wouldn’t exactly tip - toe around an answer.

   “ i don’t ? ”   there’s a heap of bodies that say entirely different.  some deserved it,  maybe some didn’t.  those weren’t . . . those were different.  those were during war ---- they were just kids.  but was she a child when she drove a blade through the chest of her friends,  people she grew up with simply because they were on the wrong side ?  was she a child when her father’s blessing overcame her and the crimson poured out like a fountain ?  it wasn’t simply camp at stake,  then,  it was olympus.  her father.   (  and while he’s perfectly capable of protecting himself,  she would always try to step between the need to do so at all.  )    “ feels like i owe more apologies than anything else. ” 

          she   is   not    as          old   as   they.   old   ,   centuries   ,   but   still   a   girl   ,   compared.   not   nearly   so   tempered   ,   even   after   all   this   time.   digits   run   idly   over   the   length   of   her   arrow   ,   the   smooth   wood   finish   ,   thumb   pausing   over   silver   tip.   she   had   asked   him   to   spar   ,   to   practice   arrows   ,    as    they   did   on   occasion.   sometimes   she   feels   but   a   child.   sometimes   she   feels   too   old   ,   and   how   she’d   crumble   if   she   were   atlas.   ares   is   an   unexpected   companion   ,   but   she   thinks   he   might   understand.   rage.   there   are   prayers   in   her   ears   ,   they   still   echo  ,   all   the   time   ,   begs   ,   some   hoarse   ,   ruined   screaming   after   her.   she   cannot   protect   them   all.   this   way   will   never   change.         ❛    what   do   you   do   ?   with   your   anger.   is   it   even   anger   ?    it   might   be   grief   ,   but   i   know   there   is   rage   in   my   bones   ,   ares.   i   want   to   scream.   ❜

hello i miss you, but i understanding being disillusioned with tumblr i go through stages of that every once in a while. i hope you are doing well ily.