SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

The girl left at sunset She drifted into the mist, Cloaked by its shimmering wetness She returned home once again.

A figure stood in her wake, Antlers of thick marrow and velvet to the touch. The stag trod softly, as he watched her go.

Her flowing locks of ember Reminded them both of a time they had met. In the grove of a Goddess Her honeyed skin, glistening of wet.

Only then he was not a deer, But a man clad in nothing but skin. Her blush adorned her soft features but did not flatter him.

He chased her through the Labyrinth of Time, And when they stumbled upon each other once again, He presented her with a rose, And placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

The maiden stayed with him well into the night. Until the NIghtingale woke them with its song. She scrambled to gather her garments to leave before she was missed, But he stopped her, placing a band of rubies on her wrist.

The chill of the early morn, with its dew companion, Did not fail to make its presence known. In the distance, they heard the Black Riders, From the watery abyss, they did drift.

Through the Labyrinth, they again ran, Deeper into its twisting mystery so she could say but a few more words to him. She begged for him to join her But such endeavors would only bring him to his end.

Black stallions were upon them in minutes, He watched as she saddled up, And was taken back into the murk of the abyss.

Even now he does watch her, As she sails away from him. Her life continues elsewhere, In the depths of another realm.

But she promised that when she next returns, They will claim the Grove of the Goddess, And make a final confession of their love. Not even the Scythian Knights, Or the Empress of the Mountains, Could make them part again.

She hast found love in nature, Her mighty horned stag, Who never fails to present her with flowers, Or place gentle kisses on her flushed skin.

Her day consisted of long meetings and quiet rooms when she’d rather be elsewhere conjuring all sorts of dead beings that should more than likely stay dead. Unfortunately, her youth was stolen by power and privilege -- although they did not fear the humans she wouldn’t be found outside the walls without soldiers accompanying her.

The man next to her had made a mess of his wine, the rose-colored liquid spread over the steel surface as the man began to lose his composure, scrambling to wipe up the mess with all that he had, even the fur he adorned. Their eyes made contact for but a moment, his of panicked chartreuse and hers a mild lilac. Shocked by even this, the man scrambled once more to erase this seemingly grave mistake he had made. The eighteen-year-old sorceress merely stood, placing a gentle hand on his shaking one, only the black of her fingertips touching his pale knuckles which stopped their quiver as soon as she did so. Pale locks similar to that of the moon's light on the darkest of nights, fell around her shoulders, framing her already porcelain face so she appeared as faultless as a statue -- she smiled.

“Miss Devoura, you really needn’t do this for me.” He spoke without meeting her eyes and her temper flared. She was not a monster who could turn a man to stone with a single glance, and yet, most continued to treat her as such. Only now did her lilac eyes go ablaze as she cleaned the man’s mess by placing one finger into the small splash of liquid, evaporating it with a heat emitted from the tip of her finger.

“Be at peace, sir.” She smiled at the man though it lacked genuineness and excused herself from the room. No one called to her as she did so, none had the authority.

The soles of her boots made the only sound that echoed in the halls as she trod back to her quarters, not even the breath of the guards who were stationed at increments along the corridor, nor the ones standing just outside the massive steel doors that lead to her chambers.  Not even the steel doors made a noise as they opened before her,  revealing the heavily decorated room, done much to her liking so she wasn’t upset that she has lived in this very same room for eighteen years of her life and which had only been changed twice.

“Tynon.” Her voice drifted out, soft,  different from that when she was speaking to the man in the conference room.  A guard behind her turned his head confused who she could be talking to but a voice echoed from an empty, shadowed, corner of her room.

He’s been in the water going on an hour now and the burn in his legs was definitely kicking in. To be beneath the waves was exactly the strange and incredible thing it was said to be. It was his childhood love and his passions that had him here now. Today he was only meant to observe a creature, usually docile, but had been exuding more hostile tendencies and out of worries for those who liked to visit the beach often, Yaiza was to see what was the matter. Now, so close that he was able to see all the scarring on its meaty body, the diagnosis was almost instantaneous upon seeing her. A female serpent, belly swollen with her young, rather large assuming she’d deliver them soon. Her mood change most likely had to do with that of a mother protecting her young, as this species of serpent was only ever hostile when feeling threatened.

Even though hundreds of feet off, Yaiza could feel the way her dorsal fins flared when they looped the closest to the shore before turning and going back out adrift the coral reefs. His hand rested gently, with almost no pressure at all on her nape to guide himself as he swam alongside the creature. Her movements were languid, her tail long and powerful and he could only do so much to keep her calm so she wouldn’t dart away from him. But she hadn’t seemed even slightly distressed when he’d approached her earlier that day. Yaiza wanted to believe it was because he was no stranger to these waters and strictly remembers swimming with a serpent just like her when young. He was similar to how he was now, bare from the waist up, the top half of his diving suit folded down over his hips. Hair loose and at the mercy of the waves when he’s still and flowing streamline behind him when in motion.

But as they dip somewhere among the coral, through a larger archway and back out into a more open area, a group of fish scurry at the sight of the serpent and clear the view to something more surprising. It startles Yaiza at first to see, a figure not of the marine sort down with them. They all stop and hold eye contact for a beat too long. Yaiza’s eyes drop to the stranger’s chest and the tattoos that leave but a lick of space down the middle of their chest and abdomen. And it’s hard for him to make out what the darkened spots on his cheeks and arms are before the serpent moves forward ever so slightly, calling Yaiza’s attention back to her.

Something shifts and no matter how slight, the earth under Hades’ feet still trembles. A great tremor that only he can feel and it’s so drastic that a human would worry the earth would split open and they would fall through. There is a balance kept between all parts of the earth, in the heavens, the oceans and seas, and even here a place where light does not typically reach. A place that is a mystery in itself, an entire world encompassed below the very earth humans and even some Gods walk upon. The tremors had been constant for nearly ten minutes now. Hades could sense what it was and how it parted the air, how the air moved around it to make way for the foreign object or being. It felt like an upperworlder but they were not foolish, they didn’t wander to the Underworld out of curiosity, they knew what this place was for and what kinds of things could be found down here. Very vaguely at least. Or so Hades hoped.

He draws himself to the balcony of his fortress, a massive thing built right into the side of a mountain, it’s bulk hidden within the rocky structure. And from up so high he can see his land and the calm of it, from the fields to the gates there is silence -- all save for the tremors.

Backing himself into his chambers, he exits, taking his time down the grand staircase, even once reaching the bottom as he makes his way to the grand archway that leads out. The very moment he steps out there is a quick veil of darkness and suddenly he’s standing in the copse of trees just to the left of a small garden. This is where the tremors were strongest, this is also where a bright figure dressed in Grecian robes lightly gaits around, little fingers touching the flowers around him, bringing them to life. If not by his aura, then simply by the way his skin glowed, it’s melanin a product of the sun, something natives of this land don’t often experience.

Hades' eyes follow the small man’s steps and surprised to notice the smile on his face, curious if he knew that he was upsetting the God that watched him. Whether or not one entered the nether world willingly, they would know once they arrived and knowing this, they should tread lightly. Hades knew his kingdom well and he knew what the other gods and humans thought of it, he knew that one shouldn’t go around messing with things they didn’t know about because there was always someone watching and if there wasn’t, someone would always know.

Again, there was the light sound of the godlings laughter and Hades bristled slightly, the sound was songlike and beautiful, as was the being that produced it. He’d heard the soft tunes from rare visits to the upper world but those sounds, like many other things, did not belong down here.

Wrist curling slightly, his movements were limited so that he did not reveal himself but he swept his hand up in the direction of the wandering godling sending the sweet sound of the Underworld in return. They would be sounds that only he could hear, the sound of wind through the grass and the distance cries of mourning souls of the mourning fields. They weren’t bad sounds, by any means but he knew they would be unpleasant after too long to anyone who did not naturally reside down here. The God was not a brute man by nature or by choice and he wouldn’t want to force this visitor from his garden but the brighter and more lively it became, there was an evident ache to.

All up until he notices the way the young god snatches his hand away from one of the plants and says something to it which Hades finds a little strange. Observing his gift enough to understand that it must revolve around nature but Hades failed to understand what speaking to the mouthless thing would accomplish.

And without revealing himself once more, he makes a motion with his hand that sends a lukewarm breeze through the garden that undoes all of the little god’s work. Watching the godling’s confusion grow earns a grin from the teasing God, although the moment his head turns in the direction of where Hades hides in the darkness of the copse, a momentary thought to court the pretty little thing crosses his mind. To snatch him up before anyone else can but he didn’t let the thought finish before he was already denying himself the right, a beat of composing silence and he’s moved on.