Post by Freedom on Jul 30, 2012 18:52:33 GMT -5
In progress and unfinished
I am Persephone. I am playing with my cousins, picking flowers. The prettiest kinds of flowers grow here, white flowers that have a smell that makes you deliciously giddy, lilies; and purple flowers that smell so sweet and sad it makes you want to cry, violets. There are none of the flowers that my mother likes here--sunflowers and dahlias--I know because I looked first thing.
I love my mother passionately with all my heart and soul and being and I always bring her a bouquet or something from everywhere I go. But she doesn't care for flowers that smell, or for tiny lizards, or for stones even if cunningly carved by mortals into the shape of butterflies. I'm making a list, you see, so that I may keep track of all she does and does not care for, so that I may always please her with my gifts. It was not my idea to come to this meadow where sunflowers and dahlias do not grow.
Oh! I love the smell of irises, I don't care what anybody says . . . and there are crocuses, how pretty they are, though they have no smell . . .
I am Hades. I beg from none--all come to me. And yet I went to my brother. "Give me your daughter." And I said it . . . sweetly.
"Which?" he asked--and, in truth, I saw he did not know.
The only, only one, fool! I thought. Zeus reads not my mind. "Persephone." And I said it . . . sweetly.
"Any other!" he bleated. "Her mother is--difficult."
"There is only Persephone." And still I said it . . . sweetly.
"Oh, very well."
I am Earth. I was here before They came and shall be here hereafter. But 'tis true They have Their powers, nasty things. No better than They should be, either. What a quandary when Zeus commanded me the Narcissus so that Hades could steal away poor lovely Persephone and take her down and do his will with her. I have no love for Zeus, handsome as he is. Hades . . . him I do not understand. Handsome as he is. Poseidon is my sweet love--but that's another story.
Rules are rules however and Zeus commanded the Narcissus--but I told Hades, I said to him, Boy, I said, not all who smell the Flower find it pleasant--she who would not be drawn to it would not be drawn to you--you mark me, I said. He only stared at me with those big eyes of his.
I am Zeus. When I saw my brother Hades coming to me of his own accord to ask a favor I very nearly fell over! And what a favor, a bride! Of all gods, Hades wants a bride! And of all brides, my child with Demeter! Of all goddesses, the most . . . difficult.
Oh, you may talk about the wrath of Hera, the anger of Artemis, the fury of Athena--and you'd be right, a thousand times right. I've experienced them all. Oh, yes. But Demeter--there's no reasoning with that female. You can reason with Hera! You can reason with Athena--that is, Athena will reason with you and long past the point you're ready to quit, frankly. Should one of you find a logical path, Artemis will then be willing to tread it. But Demeter? Bah!
And this should be so easy. I should be able to say to Demeter, "Guess what, darling: good old Hades has asked for the hand of our little girl, and you know he's quite the catch--good looking, got a third of things for his very own and getting richer all the time, and you know he'll never try her with his conversation. Let's go see what little Sephie has to say about it, shall we?" You'd think I could arrange things to suit myself around here.
And Sephie--she's so attached to her mother. Not that that's wrong--I don't think. Demeter's a wonderful mother. Everybody says so. Makes the grain grow. Takes care of the mortals for us. All that. Maybe Sephie wouldn't want old Hades after all. Maybe she would rather stay with her mother--forever. And ever. You may scoff at this, coming from me--but I wouldn't have Sephie hurt or . . . or made to do anything she didn't want to do, for--for anything.
But I've been worried about gloomy old Dis for some time. He's always been a silent sort, but he hasn't said a word in a couple of centuries now. Sits down there in the dark. He always was the sensitive one--maybe being King of the Dead is getting to him. We thought that would suit him, and it seemed to . . . suit his nature, you know. Sort of thrived on the gloom. But lately . . .
Sephie's an odd little thing, too, in her own way. Of course in comparison to Demeter, everyone seems a little anemic. Sephie and Hades, I wonder . . . I shall have another chat with old Mum.
(Earth): I feel better. None will smell the Flower but Hades' bride, and he will bide. Three things must bind him: the girl must scent the Flower; the Flower must draw the girl; and then--then--she must reach out for it, must of her will reach out for it. For I made the Flower with what flows in Hades' veins--whatever that is--and 'tis purple as blood--and Hades' bride she must be if lovely she finds the scent of his juice.
(Hades): I wait. Zeus tells me Earth used me to make the Narcissus infallible to lure my Persephone. What is this luring? Can the fool not bring her to me, gentle and kindly? What is Demeter that Zeus himself avoids her eye? No one but our sister after all.
My horses take my temper, they snort and paw black clods. Their haunches quiver. I see her! and they squeal and rock together.
(Persephone): . . . Smell that! What is that wondrous perfume? (Was that a quake?) But do you smell that wondrous smell? How can you not? it fills my head and stills my mind . . . and draws my body to it. Where is it? I must find it! I must find the source of that scent that sends my mind into such a whirl. Come with me, cousin! Come . . . Ah, well. I go alone, then.
I am walking up the meadow into the breeze that is filled with the scent that I must have more of. And all is perfectly still. No bird sings. No tiny beast scampers by. Perhaps they smell what I smell. I do not even hear my cousins' laughter any more.
And then I see it. And it is a flower. I see that it is. But what a flower! Look! Look! But the others are too far away, oh! if only they could see this! From one surely divine plant come springing a hundred blooms, and from every bloom comes singing the divine scent. I want these blooms, I want them all! I want them! Oh, this cannot be for me.
I stand for maybe half of all my life and stare at the blooms, all white. There is no sound and all is still and the scent lies on my cheeks and my eyelids. And then the breeze, the gentlest of breezes, causes the scent to touch my lips and I reach out with both my hands for what I want and there comes a groan from out of the ground deeper than any sound I have ever heard and all around me the ground begins to tremble and then to shake--
(Hades): My horses have their heads! They squeal and squat and spring straight up, the black clods fall behind us, straight out of Tartarus! On, beasts!
(Persephone): I would run but where! Where! The groan is a roar on every side, the ground collapses and explodes and blackness erupts around me into flinging hooves and rolling eyes and bulging chests and the reeking sweat of huge horses not a hair from my face! I hear loud screaming and it's me! The last solid inch drops away from under my feet and I fall and scream and scream--
And I am caught tight, held safe, tight against the heart of the most beautiful being I have ever seen. I know him instantly. He only stares at me. Everyone says his eyes are black but they're not, they are amethyst with silver flecks in them. He holds the reins in just one hand and I feel us going up and up as he turns his face into my neck. His hair smells of irises, and lilies, and violets, and the dark.
He is lifting his head now, and slapping the horses with the reins--and I scream again and again as we charge full speed straight for the black hole in the ground!
(Hades): I readied all for her. I brought her home. I took her. I know no other way.
Her flesh was melting snow in my hands.
I'd thought the heart was wrenched out of me before. She pressed her lips to mine--she passed her little arms about my neck and stroked my cheek--and I felt pain the like of which I did not know there was for any above or below.
(Persephone): His hands--and his lips--are indeed very cold. But where he touches me, my skin turns to flame.
(Hades): I hold her as she sleeps. What lure was used when Zeus and Demeter made this child? Her scent binds me, enraptures me, enslaves me. She stirs against me--will she fear me now?
(Persephone): Mmm-mm-mm. Oh! yes! I remember now. Oh, if only . . . if only I could stay. If only I were not a deathless goddess, then, oh! then I could come back. How he stares at me, with his big eyes! Oh, does he fear me? There, do not fear me . . . I love you with all my heart.
(Hades): She strokes my cheek! I cannot bear it! Come, child, and see your possession.
(Persephone): He jerks one around so! 'Please come with me,' he could say, or, 'Come along,' or, 'Heel!' . . . Oh, but--this is the Underworld? But . . . it's . . . it's beautiful! I'm sure I'm not supposed to think so. I'm sure that's wrong. But--everything is . . . cool--empty--spacious--no flies--no brawls--no . . . strife. There is no conflict here. Look how the arches . . . recede forever. I feel . . . for the first time in my life I feel . . . at home. I'm sure that's very wrong of me--I'm so ashamed.
And there are the dead. They get to see him always. I watch them for a while in their throngs and . . . and I see . . . I begin to see . . . that it's all not quite as I'd thought. There's more to it than I'd thought . . .
I look around for him, startled--I'm feeling a bit confused. He's only standing beside an archway, watching me. A cool white illumination comes from there--you could not call it a light--and yet you can see perfectly down here--and shows his great height and his hyacinthine locks. He is huge and fleshless, and his skin is white with highlights of amethyst. He wears a black mantle. His lips and his nipples are a deep grayish-amethyst, and his heavy brows and his heavy lashes are soot black. His black beard outlines his jaw and his mouth and that is all. How will I live without him up above?
I stop in the act of stepping toward him--how long have I been down here? My mother will be so angry at me! I didn't tell anyone where I was going! And what if she finds out what I've been doing!
His eyes are opening very wide as though my faltering has worried him--how strange that he's my father's brother, there's never any doubt about what he wants you to do--so I start stepping carefully toward him once again and he steps aside and we walk together down a long passageway. The walls of this are crystalline so we walk on solid air and illumination surrounds us. And the air is filled with a sweet scent that is like no flower up above, but lulls the mind and opens the senses.
And when the passageway opens out into his throneroom I am shaken with jealousy for there are two thrones here--I did not ever know he had a queen. And all around the throne are gowns for her of every hue of carbon and violet and slate and iris and amethyst, and chains and chains of diamonds set in gold and silver and electrum for her hair. I stop again. I would run home now if I knew the way.
Why has he brought me in here? Does he mean to hurt her with jealousy of his exploits? He is bending to heap more gems and strings of things around her throne. I no longer wish to stay. If only he would take me away soon then maybe my mother would never find out.
Of course I knew what would happen to me as soon as I saw his face, my mother has told me time and time again of my father's perfidy and how terrible it all was for her and how I came to be born and how they all are. He is always nice to me and I cannot help but like him--my father, I mean--but I know I should not, I know that is wrong. And I know it is wrong of me to love Hades. I never tried not to for an instant, though. Now I wish I had.
I see that there are strings and heaps and clots of gems from here to the dark in every direction. He makes up for his indiscretion most extravagantly, I think. Oh, take me home! I am turning to him and opening my lips to speak--
(Hades): "This is for you."
(Persephone): . . . What does that mean? What does he mean? I look at the thrones and the pile of gowns and he is lifting me in his arms and putting me onto the throne to the right of his throne and it is the size of me, and he is heaping gowns and diamonds into my lap.
I am Persephone. I am playing with my cousins, picking flowers. The prettiest kinds of flowers grow here, white flowers that have a smell that makes you deliciously giddy, lilies; and purple flowers that smell so sweet and sad it makes you want to cry, violets. There are none of the flowers that my mother likes here--sunflowers and dahlias--I know because I looked first thing.
I love my mother passionately with all my heart and soul and being and I always bring her a bouquet or something from everywhere I go. But she doesn't care for flowers that smell, or for tiny lizards, or for stones even if cunningly carved by mortals into the shape of butterflies. I'm making a list, you see, so that I may keep track of all she does and does not care for, so that I may always please her with my gifts. It was not my idea to come to this meadow where sunflowers and dahlias do not grow.
Oh! I love the smell of irises, I don't care what anybody says . . . and there are crocuses, how pretty they are, though they have no smell . . .
I am Hades. I beg from none--all come to me. And yet I went to my brother. "Give me your daughter." And I said it . . . sweetly.
"Which?" he asked--and, in truth, I saw he did not know.
The only, only one, fool! I thought. Zeus reads not my mind. "Persephone." And I said it . . . sweetly.
"Any other!" he bleated. "Her mother is--difficult."
"There is only Persephone." And still I said it . . . sweetly.
"Oh, very well."
I am Earth. I was here before They came and shall be here hereafter. But 'tis true They have Their powers, nasty things. No better than They should be, either. What a quandary when Zeus commanded me the Narcissus so that Hades could steal away poor lovely Persephone and take her down and do his will with her. I have no love for Zeus, handsome as he is. Hades . . . him I do not understand. Handsome as he is. Poseidon is my sweet love--but that's another story.
Rules are rules however and Zeus commanded the Narcissus--but I told Hades, I said to him, Boy, I said, not all who smell the Flower find it pleasant--she who would not be drawn to it would not be drawn to you--you mark me, I said. He only stared at me with those big eyes of his.
I am Zeus. When I saw my brother Hades coming to me of his own accord to ask a favor I very nearly fell over! And what a favor, a bride! Of all gods, Hades wants a bride! And of all brides, my child with Demeter! Of all goddesses, the most . . . difficult.
Oh, you may talk about the wrath of Hera, the anger of Artemis, the fury of Athena--and you'd be right, a thousand times right. I've experienced them all. Oh, yes. But Demeter--there's no reasoning with that female. You can reason with Hera! You can reason with Athena--that is, Athena will reason with you and long past the point you're ready to quit, frankly. Should one of you find a logical path, Artemis will then be willing to tread it. But Demeter? Bah!
And this should be so easy. I should be able to say to Demeter, "Guess what, darling: good old Hades has asked for the hand of our little girl, and you know he's quite the catch--good looking, got a third of things for his very own and getting richer all the time, and you know he'll never try her with his conversation. Let's go see what little Sephie has to say about it, shall we?" You'd think I could arrange things to suit myself around here.
And Sephie--she's so attached to her mother. Not that that's wrong--I don't think. Demeter's a wonderful mother. Everybody says so. Makes the grain grow. Takes care of the mortals for us. All that. Maybe Sephie wouldn't want old Hades after all. Maybe she would rather stay with her mother--forever. And ever. You may scoff at this, coming from me--but I wouldn't have Sephie hurt or . . . or made to do anything she didn't want to do, for--for anything.
But I've been worried about gloomy old Dis for some time. He's always been a silent sort, but he hasn't said a word in a couple of centuries now. Sits down there in the dark. He always was the sensitive one--maybe being King of the Dead is getting to him. We thought that would suit him, and it seemed to . . . suit his nature, you know. Sort of thrived on the gloom. But lately . . .
Sephie's an odd little thing, too, in her own way. Of course in comparison to Demeter, everyone seems a little anemic. Sephie and Hades, I wonder . . . I shall have another chat with old Mum.
(Earth): I feel better. None will smell the Flower but Hades' bride, and he will bide. Three things must bind him: the girl must scent the Flower; the Flower must draw the girl; and then--then--she must reach out for it, must of her will reach out for it. For I made the Flower with what flows in Hades' veins--whatever that is--and 'tis purple as blood--and Hades' bride she must be if lovely she finds the scent of his juice.
(Hades): I wait. Zeus tells me Earth used me to make the Narcissus infallible to lure my Persephone. What is this luring? Can the fool not bring her to me, gentle and kindly? What is Demeter that Zeus himself avoids her eye? No one but our sister after all.
My horses take my temper, they snort and paw black clods. Their haunches quiver. I see her! and they squeal and rock together.
(Persephone): . . . Smell that! What is that wondrous perfume? (Was that a quake?) But do you smell that wondrous smell? How can you not? it fills my head and stills my mind . . . and draws my body to it. Where is it? I must find it! I must find the source of that scent that sends my mind into such a whirl. Come with me, cousin! Come . . . Ah, well. I go alone, then.
I am walking up the meadow into the breeze that is filled with the scent that I must have more of. And all is perfectly still. No bird sings. No tiny beast scampers by. Perhaps they smell what I smell. I do not even hear my cousins' laughter any more.
And then I see it. And it is a flower. I see that it is. But what a flower! Look! Look! But the others are too far away, oh! if only they could see this! From one surely divine plant come springing a hundred blooms, and from every bloom comes singing the divine scent. I want these blooms, I want them all! I want them! Oh, this cannot be for me.
I stand for maybe half of all my life and stare at the blooms, all white. There is no sound and all is still and the scent lies on my cheeks and my eyelids. And then the breeze, the gentlest of breezes, causes the scent to touch my lips and I reach out with both my hands for what I want and there comes a groan from out of the ground deeper than any sound I have ever heard and all around me the ground begins to tremble and then to shake--
(Hades): My horses have their heads! They squeal and squat and spring straight up, the black clods fall behind us, straight out of Tartarus! On, beasts!
(Persephone): I would run but where! Where! The groan is a roar on every side, the ground collapses and explodes and blackness erupts around me into flinging hooves and rolling eyes and bulging chests and the reeking sweat of huge horses not a hair from my face! I hear loud screaming and it's me! The last solid inch drops away from under my feet and I fall and scream and scream--
And I am caught tight, held safe, tight against the heart of the most beautiful being I have ever seen. I know him instantly. He only stares at me. Everyone says his eyes are black but they're not, they are amethyst with silver flecks in them. He holds the reins in just one hand and I feel us going up and up as he turns his face into my neck. His hair smells of irises, and lilies, and violets, and the dark.
He is lifting his head now, and slapping the horses with the reins--and I scream again and again as we charge full speed straight for the black hole in the ground!
(Hades): I readied all for her. I brought her home. I took her. I know no other way.
Her flesh was melting snow in my hands.
I'd thought the heart was wrenched out of me before. She pressed her lips to mine--she passed her little arms about my neck and stroked my cheek--and I felt pain the like of which I did not know there was for any above or below.
(Persephone): His hands--and his lips--are indeed very cold. But where he touches me, my skin turns to flame.
(Hades): I hold her as she sleeps. What lure was used when Zeus and Demeter made this child? Her scent binds me, enraptures me, enslaves me. She stirs against me--will she fear me now?
(Persephone): Mmm-mm-mm. Oh! yes! I remember now. Oh, if only . . . if only I could stay. If only I were not a deathless goddess, then, oh! then I could come back. How he stares at me, with his big eyes! Oh, does he fear me? There, do not fear me . . . I love you with all my heart.
(Hades): She strokes my cheek! I cannot bear it! Come, child, and see your possession.
(Persephone): He jerks one around so! 'Please come with me,' he could say, or, 'Come along,' or, 'Heel!' . . . Oh, but--this is the Underworld? But . . . it's . . . it's beautiful! I'm sure I'm not supposed to think so. I'm sure that's wrong. But--everything is . . . cool--empty--spacious--no flies--no brawls--no . . . strife. There is no conflict here. Look how the arches . . . recede forever. I feel . . . for the first time in my life I feel . . . at home. I'm sure that's very wrong of me--I'm so ashamed.
And there are the dead. They get to see him always. I watch them for a while in their throngs and . . . and I see . . . I begin to see . . . that it's all not quite as I'd thought. There's more to it than I'd thought . . .
I look around for him, startled--I'm feeling a bit confused. He's only standing beside an archway, watching me. A cool white illumination comes from there--you could not call it a light--and yet you can see perfectly down here--and shows his great height and his hyacinthine locks. He is huge and fleshless, and his skin is white with highlights of amethyst. He wears a black mantle. His lips and his nipples are a deep grayish-amethyst, and his heavy brows and his heavy lashes are soot black. His black beard outlines his jaw and his mouth and that is all. How will I live without him up above?
I stop in the act of stepping toward him--how long have I been down here? My mother will be so angry at me! I didn't tell anyone where I was going! And what if she finds out what I've been doing!
His eyes are opening very wide as though my faltering has worried him--how strange that he's my father's brother, there's never any doubt about what he wants you to do--so I start stepping carefully toward him once again and he steps aside and we walk together down a long passageway. The walls of this are crystalline so we walk on solid air and illumination surrounds us. And the air is filled with a sweet scent that is like no flower up above, but lulls the mind and opens the senses.
And when the passageway opens out into his throneroom I am shaken with jealousy for there are two thrones here--I did not ever know he had a queen. And all around the throne are gowns for her of every hue of carbon and violet and slate and iris and amethyst, and chains and chains of diamonds set in gold and silver and electrum for her hair. I stop again. I would run home now if I knew the way.
Why has he brought me in here? Does he mean to hurt her with jealousy of his exploits? He is bending to heap more gems and strings of things around her throne. I no longer wish to stay. If only he would take me away soon then maybe my mother would never find out.
Of course I knew what would happen to me as soon as I saw his face, my mother has told me time and time again of my father's perfidy and how terrible it all was for her and how I came to be born and how they all are. He is always nice to me and I cannot help but like him--my father, I mean--but I know I should not, I know that is wrong. And I know it is wrong of me to love Hades. I never tried not to for an instant, though. Now I wish I had.
I see that there are strings and heaps and clots of gems from here to the dark in every direction. He makes up for his indiscretion most extravagantly, I think. Oh, take me home! I am turning to him and opening my lips to speak--
(Hades): "This is for you."
(Persephone): . . . What does that mean? What does he mean? I look at the thrones and the pile of gowns and he is lifting me in his arms and putting me onto the throne to the right of his throne and it is the size of me, and he is heaping gowns and diamonds into my lap.
