Hope Springs Eternal [4/19]

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Hope Springs Eternal
Chapter 4: Big Trouble In Little Paradise

In which Hades visits the happiest island in the Ionic Sea and manages not to vomit, and Persephone demonstrates poetic teenaged angst about her mother's plans. [contains singing]

 Οταν Κοσμοι Συγκρουομαι

The chariot exited the Underworld near the cliffs of Amoudia, flying low over the waters of the Ionian Sea. Soon it was entering the mists of magic surrounding the island of Nysa. And all the while, it was being stalked.

Hovering far overhead to avoid detection were Hecate’s hellhounds. When the chariot swooped over the island and dived down to find a landing spot, they followed. But they hadn't noticed the shimmering dome of protective light surrounding the island. When they connected, it shot through them like a bolt of lightning. The scent of fried fur accompanied their graceless plummet into the sea.

Cursing and sputtering, they hauled themselves from the water onto a reef of rocks and began licking their wounds.

Mayhem snarled in disgust as she tended her once-sleek fur. "Is that what I think it is?"

Havoc squinted at the light. "Yep, that's a high level spell set by a goddess. Only gods and other immortals can enter. So I guess the griffin has eternal life. Lucky bastard."

"Well, goddamn it! We're magically-conjured infernal beings, and our mistress is immortal! Why can't we follow him in there?"

"Because we're not immortal yet. She has to grant that personally--"

"Which she never will, if we can't get the goods on Hades!" Mayhem whined.

Havoc sighed. "C’mon, just cool it for now. Hades is too nervous about being caught outdoors to stay long, so we'll wait. And in the meantime..." He turned to soothingly groom Mayhem’s ears, which she couldn't reach, and she finally settled down with an almost contented woof.


 

The island wasn't very large, but it made up for lack of size with sheer unadulterated beauty. The views would have made hardened soldiers weep and begin to compose lyrical poetry.

Hades hated it on sight.

He parked the chariot behind a thick stand of bushes, gave the griffin a treat and told him to be quiet. Then he wandered invisibly through the lush meadows of the island, his every footstep crushing dainty flowers and kicking up clouds of delicate butterflies. Bunnies cavorted about with full knowledge of how ridiculously adorable and fluffy they were. Birds warbled their eternal happiness from every branch of every carefully-crafted tree.

It was so blasphemously idyllic, it made him physically ill.

"Well," he drawled, "isn't this lovely? So rosy, so sunny, so... yeeeuck."

He continued further inland and found the view didn't improve, though his sarcasm got honed to a fine edge.

"Why do I even listen to the Fates anymore? And what's all this 'flower power' shit, what is that?" he inquired nastily of the pure breathable air. "What the fuck am I supposed to do here? Skip along, tra-la-la, picking daisies? Bullshit..."

As he shook his helmeted head, he noticed something different. Ahead was a grove of thick trees, darker and more foreboding than anything else on the island.

"Hello... what's this?" He held up his invisible hands, framing the view with thumbs and forefingers even though he could hardly see them. "A single dark spot in an otherwise disgustingly perfect picture... Hmm..."

It seemed the only thing worth investigating, so he turned to smoke and rematerialized into the center of the grove.

The high interlaced canopy of trees nearly blotted out the sunlight, ivy and moss dripping down from branches and trunks. The undergrowth was tangled as well, closely grown with myrtle, fig, and wild rose vines. Ghostly pale narcissus and asphodel peaked out warily along with fragrant mint, seeking what little light there was. A tall pomegranate shrub grew near the center of the grove, filled with large dark blooms, still too early for fruit, its thorns grown especially long and nasty. A row of black poplar and sturdy cypress trees stood like disapproving sentries on one side of the grove. And several enormous weeping willows hung drearily over a babbling stream, the one thing in the grove that looked fairly normal.

Quite a difference in terrain here. It seemed unlikely Demeter had designed this area, since she was inclined toward sunniness and cheer. No, somebody with a flair for the dismal had done the exterior decorating. Overall, it reminded him of home.

Glancing around, he wondered if he might yet find what he was looking for. He approached the pomegranate bush, muttering to himself. "Hmm, these flowers are kind of dark. Wonder if this is what the Fates meant..."

He regarded the annoyingly lovely red flowers suspiciously, as if their very presence compromised his grim reaper reputation. In too many ways, they did. If anyone had ever witnessed him picking flowers, they'd have laughed until they dropped dead which would serve them right. Plus he had no clue what he needed to do, when and if he found this supposed miracle flower.

"So what do I do, eat it? Make a wreath and wear it?" He reached out to brush the petals with a fingertip. They were not only lovely but softer than anything he'd ever touched. He became further annoyed by this fact, and by the sudden desire to bend down and inhale the perfume. He snarled, opening his hand to crush the nearest flower into non-existence. "Or maybe they meant I should shove it up their as--"

A thorn sank deep into his palm then, and he reacted with pent-up hostility. Angry over the events of the day, the recent weeks, the last eighteen goddamned years... He literally exploded, roaring like a demon beast from hell. It was fairly impressive the way flames shot up to the sky in a scorching pillar, smoke following in a vaguely mushroom-shaped cloud.

He breathed heavily as he struggled to calm himself. He clamped his helmet down firmly, as it had all but popped off his head when he'd done the volcano impression. Looking hastily around, he saw no sign of witnesses and his breath became a sigh of relief. Then he noticed the pomegranate bush... or what remained of it. That, and a roughly circular patch of grass about ten feet around where he stood, were now burnt to a crisp. Actually he'd been fairly restrained, since the rest of the grove still stood untouched.

His temper flowed away like sour water, leaving a bad taste on his heart. He'd been deeply downhearted lately but at least he'd been relatively calm. The first time in years he'd held his rages in reasonable check, mostly because he'd lacked the energy or the drive to let it loose. Now that the outburst was over, the sensation of sinking into an emotional morass began to return. He hadn't been this overall depressed in nearly seven hundred years, not since... The thought creeping back into consciousness was enough to doom him, and he hung his head. His whole life was screwed. Nothing really mattered, did it? Hadn't mattered for a very long time.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he whispered.

The hanging dark willows beckoned him to seek refuge. He ambled slowly toward one and parted the dragging branches like a curtain, as thoughts of desolation once again overtook his brain.

Underneath the tree's dome was a private world of deep green shadow. The perfect place to sulk. He sat down on the sparse grass, leaned against the trunk of the tree, arms on lifted knees and head drooped morosely. "This won’t help me fix my problems," he said to the uncaring air, "nothing will. And when I get back home, I'll still be at the bottom of a bottomless pit. It's... hopeless."

If he'd been feeling more like himself, he'd have noticed the infinitesimal movement of the ground beneath him, and the sudden appearance of a fully grown flower nearby. Eventually he turned his head that direction and saw the stray golden-white narcissus, seeming as forlorn and lost as he. Feeling a peculiar sense of symbolism, he reached out and plucked it. Below him, the earth herself smiled in warm triumph.

The sweet fragrance of the blooms reached his nostrils, and he was reminded again of things he'd sooner have forgotten. He wondered idly if he had killed the flower by picking it, tearing it from its roots. But probably it was immortal as everything on this island, benefiting from a goddess' protection.

...Or from a dose of nectar. Which was the only thing that he, personally, could have done to make a plant immortal and prevent losing it forever...

It was hard to tell, since he was sitting in the dark plus invisible, but there might have been a glint of dampness near his eyes.


 

The welcoming party on Olympus subsided as Hypnos declared he had to start his shift, and the other gods finally went to their homes to sleep it off.

Outside the edge of the dark grove on Nysa, a light of manifestation appeared. The form of a gigantic flower solidified within it and, after unfurling vines and leaves to the ground, bloomed open. Inside were Demeter and Persephone, who personally detested her mother's favored form of transport. It always felt so claustrophobic. She was grateful when she breathed open air again and hastily stepped down from the heart of the flower, using the petals and leaves as a stairway.

Demeter was frustrated by her daughter’s wet blanket behavior earlier in the evening, but things had seemed to improve before nightfall. "My goodness!” the elder goddess declared happily, “Wasn't that an exciting day?"

"Sure…," Persephone droned, "just great..."

Not the response Demeter wanted, but had rather expected nonetheless. What went on in her child's mind, she no longer had a clue, and the sense of angst the girl now expressed baffled her. She was certain she'd never behaved that way when she was young.

She approached her daughter and gently touched her arm, glad when it was not pulled away. "Oh, my Kore, my darling little one," she said softly, with honest concern, "I know you've been melancholy lately, it shows all through your grove, so dark and gloomy. But I'd hoped that today would cheer you up."

Persephone sighed as silently as possible. Her mother thought she was helping, even when she was so sheltering it nearly choked the immortal life out of her own child. "I know, Mother," she replied, "I just... I..." She couldn't find words to express even to herself what she felt half the time anymore, let alone to anyone else. Frustrated, she just said, "Oh, never mind.”

Demeter was a bit worried. She had never gotten around to telling her daughter about the changes Olympus had made, about the new age of consent, and she really didn't want to. This was her own flesh and ichor, her baby girl, hers and hers alone, and she wanted Persephone around for as long as possible. The age of twenty-one had been perfectly fine, since that meant a full sixty-three earthly years before she'd have no choice but release control. She wasn't ready to let go. But now Persephone chafed and fretted, almost as if instinctively knowing it was past time to leave the nest.

Now Demeter thought she might have another way to placate her child. She had begun to wonder if companionship other than what the local oceanides and nereides provided might be of aid, and had formulated her own theory, which led to a plan of action. A man, the right man, a warm, gentlemanly, positive influence in her daughter's life. A handsome young god who would sweetly hold her innocent hand, sing her pretty songs, recite lovely poems, bring her sunshine on a rainy day. Though she herself wasn't interested in such things, she thought perhaps it might be beneficial to her child, just until this gloomy phase passed. She thought she'd figured it all out... when she failed miserably to have even a clue. (Proving that you should only play matchmaker when it's your divine godly right.)

"Well, I think I know what will snap you out of it," Demeter said, in a tone of voice that made Persephone aware she'd thought of something else for her daughter to do, something that would be, as usual, either annoying, boring, or completely pointless.

Persephone turned away to prevent her mother from seeing her face when the bombshell got dropped. She could tell immediately it would be a situation like so many others, wherein she wound up repeating key words from her mother's lecture in an attempt to sound interested and attentive. But something also told her this time was going to be of unknowably bad proportions.

Demeter went on, "I arranged a terrific date for you... with Apollo!"

Oh. It was far worse than she'd been prepared for. Her heart sinking about ankle-deep, Persephone said breathlessly, "Terrific..."

And Demeter was, as ever, completely unaware. "I couldn't help but overhear you two talking..." (Of course, she'd been standing less than a foot away and had, in fact, been the one to instigate the idea.) "And I just knew you two would hit it off! I've had an eye on him as a wonderful potential suitor for you for a while now!"

"Wonderful." Persephone response was lilting, but with hidden sarcasm that punctured holes in her tongue. Her life force was ebbing away with dread.

Taking the word at face value, Demeter proceeded to babble happily. "It was just as I anticipated, you both look so absolutely beautiful together, so ideal! You know, I always did have an eye for such match-ups. I was, after all, one of the first to encourage Aphrodite and Hephaestus to date. And everyone knows how perfect they are for each other!" (Proving that you should only predict the future if its your divine godly right, as well.)

"Perfect," Persephone remarked, closing her eyes against further motherly assault of the senses. When would this torture ever end? Some days it didn't pay to be immortal.

Demeter wrapped it up smoothly, convinced that her daughter was won over. "Well, I'm going to be very busy for the next three or four days, what with these Late Summer and First Harvest celebrations I have to attend. Then of course, there's all the offerings I have to receive afterward. Everyone wants a bountiful Great Harvest this Autumn Equinox. Your sweet sixteenth birthday, my dear, which I promise we will celebrate together, along with the mortals." She fondly sighed at her precious daughter, who was growing up far too quickly. "Ah, yes, a goddess' work is never done. But you won't be all alone. Apollo is coming by first thing tomorrow morning to pick you up for a fabulous day together, so be ready, okay?"

"Fabulous," Persephone mouthed with a tiny smile to cover the numbness she felt. In the back of her brain, she frantically thought of all the secret hiding places Nysa afforded, in anticipation of the coming date.

Demeter beamed with delight. Certain that her work here was done, that her daughter would slough off this unbecoming malaise when in the company of the bright occasional-sun-god himself, she bid adieu. Re-entering the huge flower, she waved in her child's direction as it began to seal itself. "I'll see you in a few days. Until then, you have an absolutely splendid time!"

"Yeah. Splendid. You bet," Persephone intoned. When the flower had dematerialized and she was alone again, she forced her feet to move in the direction of her grove. It was her only personal space, such as it was, and it truly reflected her feelings lately. Alive with depression.

It had been a wretched day, not to mention week, and perhaps even month. Okay, let's face it, more than half a decade already. But more recently...

First she had been saddled with an official goddess position, unasked for, under the auspices of the need for a meaningful job at this stage in her life, and because her mother was much busier now and could honestly use the help. Demeter was not only taking care of her duties as the Goddess of the Fields, but also attending long Council meetings on Olympus. So after the Summer Solstice, a ceremony had been performed at home, wherein mother bestowed half of her power upon daughter, all with unnecessary seriousness but thankfully little pageantry.

Then today Persephone had been hauled all the way to Olympus to make the grand announcement, where she couldn't hide from prying eyes or questions. At first she had kept her responses to a minimum, short and mumbled, hardly smiling. Then her mother had frowned in that don't-you-dare-embarrass-me-young-lady kind of way, signaling a far worse time ahead if she didn't straighten up. So she had put a little more effort into it along with a small fake smile, but she was far from thrilled at being on display. Several gods and goddesses had chatted inanely at her and most had seemed... well, frankly, brain-dead. Okay, Hermes had been pretty nice and Cupid seemed okay, though maybe a little too inquisitive. But a few deities, most particularly Zeus, had actually expressed puzzlement over her dolorous attitude about life. After all, he had said, she was now the goddess of bright new life itself so she should be more cheerful and lively and... perky. Persephone had shut her mind off after that, keeping her comments very innocuous and empty, her face sarcastically waifish with every word. Just what everyone seemed to expect. It was the most grueling experience of her life so far.

The early years of her immortal life were not so bad, and mother and child had been quite close during pre-teen years. The long endless days had been filled with laughter and nymph playmates, gathering flowers in the fields and splashing happily in the crystal springs. The pleasant nights had been spent lounging about a campfire, singing and weaving the flowers of the day into their hair, while her mother told her of the fascinating things she'd done outside the island paradise. Demeter had been a devoted mother, and a good teacher when it came to their shared domain of power. Persephone had been a happy, bright, carefree child, and developed her powers rapidly. Now she truly was ready for the sole responsibility of Springtime. She'd learned everything there was to know about nature and growth and life... except how to live it for herself.

Until six years ago, she'd been perfectly content. Then somehow, inexplicably, something had altered in her heart. She began to see clearly just how possessive and exclusive her mother was concerning their relationship. Her entire life up to then she hadn't questioned why they almost never left the island, why so few gods visited them. And in fact it had never been gods, but goddesses only. Artemis, Athena, her aunt Hestia. As of the beginning of her puberty, anytime she was taken elsewhere and gods were present, her mother wedged herself between them and Persephone, and often just took her back home without a word. Slowly it dawned on her – The only solid influences she'd had in her early years were nymphs and virgin goddesses, all of them either innocently playful or deliberately out-of-the-loop in some important way. Mother simply didn't want her to grow up, at all. Oddly, she was trying to defy nature itself.

And now Demeter seemed to want to play Fate with her daughter's life, thinking maybe it was time for the child to grow up, but only on the mother's terms. A mate of sorts had been chosen, one Persephone wouldn't have chosen for herself on a drunken bet. Well, not that she had ever been drunk of course, or even made a bet for that matter, but she was certain she'd have still refused Apollo. True, he was considered extremely handsome and she vaguely supposed he was, but she couldn't have cared less. As uninformed as she knew she was, she could still almost smell the hormones wafting off of him. He was cocky and vain and hid his lechery behind pretty words. And that made him ugly to her. She wondered if her mother even knew what sort of guy he really was.

Persephone dragged her feet along, thinking about her miserable excuse for a life. Sometimes she wished she could just run away and never come back. Nysa was Demeter's official seat of power and what she said was law. Though no god or immortal was ever exactly barred from entering Nysa, Demeter had always made it extremely clear that to visit without a direct invitation would be frowned upon most harshly. Not only that, but most requests to leave the island were usually denied, although in the form of firm but gentle lectures about the unfriendly conditions of the world outside and how anyone should be grateful to live in such a safe and wholesome environment. If it hadn't been for the one friend she cared to keep, Persephone would have been virtually clueless about the real world outside her home. Although she could physically leave any time, she knew that her mother would always track her down and bring her back. There was no place to go and no one to go to. She was imprisoned in paradise.

As the goddess' ponderous steps traced the path of the little stream running through her grove, an oceanid with lilac skin and aquamarine hair and large dark-blue pools for eyes, rose up to greet her. Rhodope, one of dozens of water nymphs on Nysa, was the one real friend the young goddess had. The nymph waved hello and splashed water about playfully but Persephone scarcely lifted her hand in return.

Rhodope was aware of Persephone's recent mood. They had shared confidences for many years, long enough that the goddess understood nymph-speech perfectly. The nymph often left the island, swimming out to sea to visit friends, and she brought back news and gossip of the world and told of silly romantic adventures those other friends were having. This had served to partly educate the innocent goddess in some facts of life outside Nysa. Of course Demeter would not have approved, and that made Persephone want information all the more.

Unfortunately, lately it seemed the goddess was always depressed. The more she heard of things she could not experience, the more restless Persephone grew. Rhodope wished dearly she could help in some way but, alas, a water nymph alone had little to offer but a sympathetic ear and an oceanful of patience and kindness. This was why the young goddess called her 'friend'.

Now Persephone moved along slowly, not looking up until she was in the heart of her dark grove. There she stopped and stood still a moment. She removed the flower headdress she wore and held it in both hands. She took a deep cleansing breath.

Then screamed.

"AAHHH! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!"

"Whatthefu--!" Hades hissed softly as his head snapped up sharply, entire body prepared for fight-or-flight.

Sounds of rending cloth and angered muttering came from outside his leafy sanctuary. What in hell was happening out there? Curious but very cautious, he crept forward, keeping as low and quiet as possible. When he reached the hanging branches, he used one finger to part them enough to peek out.

And promptly felt his brain tumble into an abyss from which he would never hope to return.

"...Whoa..."

That single whispered syllable, combined with the fact he couldn't breathe or blink or turn away, told all. Before him was the most heavenly sight his ancient eyes had ever beheld. A goddess – young and beautiful and giving potent new meaning to the word 'nubile' – was angrily tearing a pink item of clothing to shreds and complaining aloud to a water nymph who nodded in sympathy.

Then in an instant he recognized her. And his heart utterly stopped. When it started beating again, it did so with a jolt, executed a double-flip, and collapsed exhausted in his chest. Hades was suddenly glad beyond words that he'd made this trip.

"Rhodope, I cannot believe this!" Persephone wailed. "She picks my job! She picks my clothes!" Sneering, she took off the rosy-pink peplos and dropped it atop the ruined headdress. "And now she's picking my boyfriend?"

The nymph, her voice like the burbling of the stream she sat in, made many sympathetic noises and shook her head in disbelief.

"I think she's actually gone blind!" Persephone snorted. "Couldn't she see I have, like, less than zero interest in Apollo?"

At the name mentioned, Rhodope all but squealed. She leaped out of the water like a cheerleader (or, more accurately, a spawning salmon) with a waterfalling giggle of pure delight. She adored the sun and its warmth on the surface of her stream, keeping her warm on cold winter days, so naturally she adored the one driving the sun chariot as well. Besides, Apollo was a major stud muffin!

"Yes, yes, I know you like him. Girlfriend, you can have him." Persephone crossed her arms with a wry expression. Her friend’s antics made her mood a little less furious, but they were returning to a standard dreary now. "I just don't know how much more I can take. Mother doesn't listen to a word I say. I'm trapped here for the foreseeable future. And everyone wants me to be something I'm not..."

Disheartened, she sank down onto the grass beside the stream. Rhodope, now calm, sat on a large flat stone in the stream and frowned at her sadly.

Sighing, Persephone said, "I just wish someone would really hear me, for once..." Then she began to sing softly.

All my life I've been defined
by what others think they see
so young, so fragile, so helpless
but I know that's not really me

Somehow I've got to show them all
what's happened inside me
I've grown, I've changed, I've moved beyond
what they all think I should be

If someone could uncover
what goes on in my mind
they'd soon enough discover
there's more to me than meets the eye

She rose again and moved slowly along the bank of the stream, hugging herself. Rhodope followed, swimming through the water.

The little girl
I've played the part
now I need to do
what's in my heart
Gotta find a way to be what I'll be

This life is empty
what's it for
I'm sure the Fates
have more in store
Some way to express the real me

She sang more purposefully now, voice defining the long-contained feelings and frustration of her very existence.

The gods are chained to status quo
and I'm so ready to break free
to run, to fly, to live at last
to start being who I'm meant to be

So let's shatter my perfect image
I won't be a child eternally
I'm ready, I'm willing, I'm able now
to finally become the real me

Her eyes closed, head back, she sang to the stars of her deepest emotion, what she barely understood but felt every waking moment.

I never could describe
this aching in my soul
but I'm ready now to find
the missing piece that makes me whole

She began to dance then, grabbing up the discarded peplos, whirling it around her body as gracefully as a dream. Rhodope made ripples and waves in the stream, surfing along in time with the tune.

No more standing still
gotta move it or lose it
I've got the strength
just gotta use it
I can't wait for eternity

My life has changed
so right or wrong
I've got to find
where I belong
The world where at last I'll be...
the real... me...

She twirled to a stop, letting the peplos fly away and flutter down again onto the grass. Her brief enthusiasm and certainty faded fast in the light of reality. "If only I could figure out how..."

Then something caught her eye.

It was dark in the grove by day, and darker still by night, but her godly aura illuminated things well enough. Even in semi-light the patch of complete blackness was noticeable. She approached, seeing it was a burnt-out circle of grass in the middle of which stood a cinder that used to be a pomegranate bush. The hair on back of her neck rose slightly.

Aloud, she said, "Someone else is here..."

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