XXIX.II: Eros and Psyche

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Poseidon found himself in the depths of a strange and dark forest. He could see what resemble a castle through the small pockets of light allocated to him by the trees. He glared at the 'magic fruit' and stuffed it in his pocket. "Petaqing witch and her good for nothing donkey of a husband."

He marched toward the castle but found himself distracted by a haunting melody. He shook his head and stepped forward. He could not have his vengeance until he finished this rotten mission. He knew Hera planted a tracker in him while he slept, after all, he would have done the same. As he marched he cursed a creative slew of epithets that would make even the drek of the universe blush. "I hate shapeshifters!"

"You hate what?" A pair of azure eyes surrounded by a curtain of black hair popped out from behind a tree. Poseidon felt his jaw drop, but he could do nothing about it. A girl's curvaceous body followed the enchanting head. She stood before him in a gentle blue and yellow dress that whispered as she walked. "What are you doing way out here?"

"Looking for something." He forced himself to look away, the girl's hologram did her little justice. Her beauty went beyond the scarlet color of her lips or the generous swell of her alabaster bosom. No, her allure was in her voice, the way she moved, it was even her smell.

"Looking for what?" She asked as she stepped in front of him blocking his path, she tilted her head and stared into the depths of his soul. "You have such unique eyes." Her hand outstretched to his face. "I have never seen anything like them."

He swatted her hand away and cursed his racing heart and Hera for good measure. "A treasure."

"What kind of treasure?" She asked, her bubbling curiosity just made her more enchanting.

"None of your business that's what." Stop talking so I can get this over with. "Why are you out here anyway?"

"I was looking for something." She swung around a tree and shot him a playful eye, "I think I found what I was looking for."

"And what's that?" He asked in a failed attempt of feigning disinterest.

"A friend." She slipped in front of him again. "You are the first man I have ever met who has yet to treat me like a porcelain doll or worship the ground I walk on. It's refreshing." 

"You do not like being admired?" Poseidon's interest piqued with her statement. Every woman he ever met wanted their beauty to exceed all others. They all wanted to be admired and lauded for their own brand of pulchritude or prowess. This one confused him. She had the gifts that they all craved and drained their pockets to achieve, yet she resented them?

"I would rather be plain," Psyche answered him her drifted to the ground.  "No one sees me, and those that do are afraid to approach me. They all watch me from behind bushes or columns, and they whisper." She raised her eyes to him again and the forlorn look scrawled across her features broke what was left of his heart, "I am always alone. Even my family puts me on display for banquets and parties, and I hate it. It is like I am not even human." Her gaze drifted to a mudded spot on the ground, and she plopped down in the mud and splashed it all over her face. "If I could go around like this maybe someone would talk to me. What do you think?"

He threw his head back in laughter. The girl had painted herself with mud. It covered her clothes, her legs, it was even clumped in her hair. He was left baffled by how she made such a mess of herself that fast. 

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