...And all the flowers will bloom...

The body she has kept at such a distance for so many years has, for that time, mercifully granted her one small favour while she dragged it through hell and back. It had been no loss to her that it had all but forgotten itself and any normal rhythms.

And, with that, there had been control. Nothing more to worry about than a Hyuran or Elezen woman need trouble herself with. Battered and bruised and kept permanently on the cusp of giving up, her traitorous body had at least failed to signal any demands and wanting not of her own inviting.

Years passed and children brought into the world, and now, now it chooses to...

An arm slips around her waist, and, just as she registers it as an unbearable threat to her control, shadows envelop her and haul her into the darkness of an unfamiliar forest that is nevertheless the perfect – their preferred – location for—

She turns, aiming a savage swing at Hades that she anticipates will be met with a shield, only for him to merely lift a hand and deflect her strike in an overtly casual fashion, his study of her intense.

It is infuriating.

There can be no telling him. No making of herself an obligation. A duty.

And who is to say it would be any better to give in? She has no recollection of it being pleasurable. A disappointment only, the stranger in her bed too pleased to be there and too set on his own enjoyment to be of any use to her. A frustrating, ridiculous debacle. She should have known it would be no different even with mindless need driving her.

Fire next, hoping Hades will fight. Not embers coaxed to life or a mage’s conjuring trick, but that terrible flame that he will understand is the raw, unfiltered strength that she is so ashamed to revel in.

Defence again; a agonising patience in golden eyes.

She sends him back and back once more, wreathing herself in blood and scarlet, until her eyes blur with awful tears and he effortlessly captures her wrists and pins her against the nearest tree, pressing close in a deliberately provocative manner.

Her body betrays her, pleading as she shifts against him all too desperately, and the brush of his lips over the pulse in her neck is so glorious that she blushes to hear the sound that she yields to him.

“I know,” he utters lowly, anchoring a hand at her hip, “what this is.”

“You don’t,” she refutes.

He can’t. Surely he must believe that she is merely burning her way through temper and agitation in their usual inelegant way, for all that he has not played his part.

“...Not all women of your race suffer from the affliction, and I confess I believed you were among that number, yet...”

He slips a hand between them, her answer to lunge forward and secure his bottom lip to bite down on instead of her own.

Hades’ hiss is of the delighted variety, followed by a low note of dark, rich amusement.

And yet he sobers as he bows his head to hers to murmur, “I think you are well. I think you are well and thriving and this is the... consequence...”

He needn’t sound so pleased.

(He loves her. Of course he is pleased that she is no longer the skeletal, exhausted figure that returned from the edge of the universe.)

“And I think that you should allow me to bring you home and let our husband worship you, just as he has been aching to all day...”

She knows very well that command of herself is unravelling further when she hears herself say, “Do you want to watch?”

The hand between them strays along a leisurely path that drags a tight curse from her.

“For a time,” he allows, all smug satisfaction.

It is not so difficult to give herself into his care.

Nor to seek out the kisses she has craved for hour upon hour.

Nor to let days unfold ahead where she knows nothing but warmth and devotion...

And pleasure.

Gold - Wisdom, Wealth and Nobility.

If your OC was called upon to arbitrate between the nobility (or an equivalent social elite) and the common people, on which side of the table would they be sitting during negotiations?

Do those that know your OC consider them to be wise? Is this quality seen as distinct from intellectulism or book-learning in their case? Or do they posess both academic knowledge and the wisdom of experience?

Does your OC struggle to believe anyone is truly smart unless they are also rich?

Does your OC hold that some social groups have an inherent nobility unavailable to others? Do they perhaps believe in the idea of a "ruling class", with qualities that the lower orders could never hope to evince? Or, conversely, do they believe in the unsullied nobility of the poor, in contrast to the decadent and corrupt upper classes?

If your OC could pass on a piece of wisdom to others starting out on a similar path to their own, what would it be and where does it come from?

Lead - Sin, Death, Transformation and Toxicity.

Which experience of loss or bereavement has most affected your OC?

What is your OC's most anti-social trait? Do they acknowledge it as such? Are they even aware of it themselves?

Which sin is your OC most likely to be accused of by others? Would this be fair criticism? Or are their actions often somewhat misunderstood?

What has been the most transformative experience your OC has been through? Was it an experience of loss? The first time they ever felt loved? A traumatic or violent event? Or something else entirely?

How does your OC believe they will die? Peacefully in bed surrounded by friends and family? Or alone in the wilderness? Or fighting against overwhelming odds? Or perhaps they have a different notion altogether?

Silver - Intuition, Honesty and Wisdom.

Does your OC ever base their decisions on a "gut feeling"? Or do they always weigh up the pros and cons carefully and dispassionately?

How tactful is your OC? Are they able to frame criticism constructively and give feedback in a way that protects against potential hurt feelings? Or are they blunt, or even callous, in their attitude to the failings of others?

Does your OC believe they can assess someone's character upon first meeting them? Or are they inclined to give everyone the benefit of the doubt until they get to know them better? Or even to assume the absolute worst of people until it is conclusively proved that they are not an enemy?

Does your OC ever deliberately make themselves appear less wise or astute than they actually are? Perhaps in order to ensure that others underestimate them?

What is something that your OC would find incredibly hard to lie about? Even if they really wanted to do so...

Copper - Love, Beauty and Creativity.

Does your OC believe that they are beautiful? Is their beauty, or lack of beauty, something to which they ever give much consideration?

Does your OC enjoy creating things? Are they particularly artistic? Or do they prefer to focus upon creating things with a practical use?

Was your OC loved as a child? What difference has the experience of love and nuture during their early years made to their character as an adult?

Of all the places your OC has seen, which do they consider the most beautiful?

If your OC were to be immortalised in art, what would be their preferred medium? An epic poem? An exquisite statue? A flattering painting? Or something else entirely?

Tin - Life, Breath and Flexibility.

How quick is your OC to adjust to changing circumstances? Are they more likely to keep going with an existing approach or strategy, even though the situation has changed?

Does your OC work well with others? Even if their approach or attitude is markedly different to their own?

Does your OC believe that all life is sacred on some level? Or are some types of person more valuable than others? Can someone's deeds ever make them deserving of death? Or would your OC never consider that an appropriate sanction, no matter the circumstances?

What does your OC believe makes life worth living? Assuming that they do, in fact, believe that it is?

Has your OC's life turned out how they were expecting when they first began their journey? How well have they adjusted to any differences in this regard?

The sight had made him smile for the moments before she had turned her attention to him to press close and seek kisses that had made him begin to contemplate abandoning their planned sequence of events and gathering her up to bring upstairs to their bed.

And while the warmth had never quite left them, they had managed control enough to bestow gifts and lie tangled together before the fire for a time, concerned with nothing more than the nearness of one another as they nibbled their way through the range of sugary treats brought back from Radz-at-Han and sipped at honeyed tea.

The matter of her currently wearing nothing but the amethyst star on its chain of braided gold while she lies so obviously contented in his leisurely embrace is one that has him unable to keep from entertaining ideas of blissfully exhausting her all over again and the three of them getting not one bit of sleep for the rest of the night.

The bedroom door opening draws his attention to Hades, who pauses for long enough to study the both of them with a moment’s plain longing that tips over into a quiet pleasure, before he crosses the room and prowls across their bed to nose at the line of his jaw with a soft hum.

She blinks open her eyes, draping a arm around Hades’ neck as he moves over her and bows his head to rest his forehead over her heart, as if he must find a way to let himself be surrounded by and wrapped up in the sound that promises that she feels happy.

Hythlodaeus soothes a hand over Hades’ hair, finding it impossible to keep from touching the both of them—

(they are here and real and whole; look at them safe and warm and his)

—and lets her coax him into draping himself over their husband, where he presses a kiss to the nape of his neck and watches her drink down the sound that he makes.

Look at them.

Look at them.

His.