It's 3am! I have work in the morning! This was a horrible idea! Yall should be worried by the title of the chapter!
They were slumped over the desk, head in hand. Old parchment was supposed to disintegrate or crumble; papercuts were dull shooting pains from the fingertips up through the body; the ink was supposed to bleed into the fibers. Instead, the freshest pieces shattered when unrolled. The papercuts became slices of a knife across the hand.
Clinking filled the room to give the bitter cold a voice. Sharp pen tip against a layer of ice left chips on the desk. Slow—clink—careful—clink—gentle—clink—taps—clink—or—
It went straight through the parchment. Sharp edges snagged the pen as they tried to salvage what was left.
Persephone slammed both pen and paper onto the desk. She rubbed her temples, pressing her forehead to the cold stone. Stray puddles from the melted hoarfrost quickly refroze, sticking her skin and hair to the desk. "Oh, come on!" she roared.
A layer of skin threatened to tear off while her hair threatened to take her scalp with it. Tears refused to fall as they would only freeze and make it worse. Without thinking, she took a nearby letter opener and chopped away the hair. Ice shook and fell in sheets at her frustration, her forehead raw but otherwise unharmed.
Unwelcomed fingers combed their way through her knotted hair untangling knots and dislodging ice. "Come back to bed, Persephone. You should be resting not worrying," Hades cooed. His fingers caught in a particularly bad tangle, yanking on her skull. With a grunt, she handed him the dull blade.
"Just cut it out."
"It won't look pretty."
"Don't care. It'll grow back." The god obliged, cutting her long blonde hair into uneven locks. When he was done she leaned back into him. Her forehead matched the warm red of her fingertips and contrasted the pale blue of her lips. A thumb absentmindedly trailed across them, feeling the rough chap.
"I'm not tired," she finally answered, looking up at him.
Hades thought for a moment, caressing her jawline. "Then you're at least exhausted. Come on, let's go for a walk and take a break." He waited for her to argue—as he would.
Persephone groaned as she uncurled her legs from under her. Her knees protested as she stood, bare feet wanting nothing more than to go back between a warm body and the soft chair. The god offered the crook of his arm and led her to the much warmer hallway. She leaned against him until the stiffness lessened.
"Are you cold?"
She sighed. "No more than normal."
He raised a brow. "What does that mean?"
"It means I'm fine, Hades. Stop worrying." Flashing colors caught her eye from the city outside. It was clearly music filtering from Des, though only the vibrations of the earth made it to them. "What's that?"
"A party. Would you like to go?"
"What for?"
His grin was more mysterious than anything. A twinge of gentleness in it, but mischievous. "It's better to experience it. Come on." He unlinked their arms only to pull her along like an excited child.
"Wait, I'm still in a nightgown!"
"It's white!"
As if that made anything better.
******
Shades and nymphs went scattering across the streets, ducking behind stalls and between buildings. The former were bright, glowing a soft light that was even more prevalent with the street lamps unlit. Nymphs had their own light source with small vials of firewater around necks and hips.
Tables and chairs had been thrown on their sides for cover while pots and bowls and anything else that could hold dripping food mash was scattered across the lawns and stones. Bags of powder, faintly lit with the same vials, hung from branches and iron. Without the lampposts it was hardly bright enough to see a person's face, let alone colors. It was as quiet as a warzone.
"Okay, this is strange." Persephone watched as two people—both juggling flaming torches—ran for their lives around a corner. "Make that crazy."
"It's a game—duck!" Something went whizzing past, hitting the street with a wet splat. "Team at the end with the most points wins." Hades dragged them both into an alley.
"Who can tell who's who?"
"That's the point," someone shouted a profanity off in the distance.
"Then how do you know if your team won?"
"Game ends when all the jugglers are out—" a dull thud hit the wall next to them. "Who threw a raw fruit?!"
"Laura!" a voice shouted accusingly in the distance.
"You can't prove anything!" a voice, presumably Laura, shouted back.
Hades grabbed her arm and began dragging her through the alley and out the other side. "There are two colors—" he dodged another wet splat before throwing it back in the direction it came from. "Pick one off the ground, throw it, hope it hits something."
"Points?"
He pushed her in front of him before answering. She felt as the wet mash—sticky and sweet smelling—began to soak into her white gown.
"Told you it wouldn't matter," he grinned. Persephone gasped more out of shock than anything else. "One point per person that's mostly the color. Ten points per juggler."
"I am not a human shield!"
"Yes, you are." He ducked behind her once more. Another sticky mess hit her chest, sliding down inside her gown this time. "I forgot to mention if you can survive without getting stained once you win instead of a specific team."
The god turned to run off before she could react. Persephone gripped his wrist with unnatural strength and pulled him stumbling back into her and onto the ground. Hades kicked at her and began to crawl, only for Persephone to wrestle atop his back. One arm wrapped around his neck—a pour attempt at a headlock—while the other fumbled for a nearby bowl of mush. Hades rolled over before she could grip it.
She loosened her hold around his throat as he pressed all his body weight on her. A knee dug its way into his side. Hades jumped in pain, giving her the opportunity to throw him off. Before he could get away she threw herself onto his back a second time, this time managing to get a hold of the bowl of mush.
Hades felt the mashed fruit slowly slide down his hair, the juices traveling along the curve of his jaw. Persephone took her time to rub it into his hair before taking off running herself.
"You aren't going to get away that easily!"
Persephone turned down alley after alley at random, occasionally dodging through the warzone of the street to put the extra distance. More than once she was hit by flying fruit—color she could only imagine—but so long as it was not Hades who threw it she counted it as a win.
It wasn't long before she herself was lost in the maze of a city, the streets curving in odd directions and angles. For a moment the houses began to look familiar. Clotho huddled in the doorway, flinging balls of food from a wooden spoon. For once her dress was replaced with a white replica.
The fate stepped outside, recognizing the goddess and completely forgetting the point of not getting hit. From the window above Atropos overturned a sack of magenta powder. "I told you we needed more from the market! But did you believe me? No!
"Oh, and dear if you can hear me be sure to take the next three lefts!"
"Won't that just make a right?" Clotho yelled back, spitting powder from her mouth.
"Oh, hush! I know what I'm doing!" And Persephone, knowing full well of Atropos' gift, accepted the advice without question.
The first left brought her into the thick of the battle. Nymphs dumped the contents of their vials into the mash, turning into a soupy, glowing, mess that slicked the stones but made everything a moving target. A ghostly green hit her in the side just as an orange tint splashed at her face. A cloud of powder exploded in the middle of the street as someone flung it from a roof above. It clung to the wet, sticking to the edges of her hair and lashes the most.
Another left took her down a narrow street, lit far better than any of the previous ones. The reason was two of the jugglers, having gone unnoticed in the haven of peace between the chaos.
"I told you you could do it this time!"
Lachesis juggled two torches, hardly swaying let alone running. A young boy ran literal circles around her, juggling at least seven. Two white wings were tucked carefully away from the flames.
"This isn't going to end well and I know it."
"Just keep the flames moving and you'll be fine!"
"Says the man who can do it in his sleep!"
"Now, that's an exaggeration. I can do it in other people's sleep."
Persephone could practically hear her roll her eyes. "My bad. That's so much easier!"
"Well, it just takes some practice and—" the goddess went sprinting by, purposefully jostling Hypnos on the way. He dropped three torches, each one clattering to the stone before the fire flew from the torch and into a nearby street lamp. "Hey! That's cheating!"
Persephone stopped only to grab a handful of mash that had stuck to her gown. She threw it without thought, hitting Hypnos in the face and causing him to drop the rest of the torches. Each fire fluttered off to a different spot around the city, lighting the street and bringing the end of the game closer.
"Told you to stop being cocky," Lachesis mocked. The god kicked his leg out, tripping her and sending her two torch flames flying.
"Oops. My bad."
"This is why you aren't married!"
"Yep. That's why."
The last left took her down a street she had already taken, though backtracking probably wouldn't hurt to avoid Hade—oof.
Hades was slammed onto the ground once again that night. This time he, and his attacker, tumbled away from the street and onto the grass of the median. Between the poplars, he looked up and made out the edges of Persephone's face. "You know," he began. "This is more of a projectile game and less of a tackling one."
Persephone huffed at a strand of hair in front of her mouth. "Atropos told me to. Probably should make sure she's on my side before listening next time."
"Remind me to thank her." The god took a fistful of powdery fruit from the ground and slowly smeared it across the goddess' face. "I think I got my revenge finally."
She licked the excess from her lips, tasting the sweet fruit. "Tastes pretty good. I think it's pomegranate."
Did she really just squeak? Was he imagining it? Hades looked up at her, the strangest memory coming forth at the most inappropriate time. "Persephone?" She hummed in reply, half laughing. "Do you remember that conversation we had a few months back? Where you were pretending to be asleep?"
"The one where you told me I shouldn't have existed. I remember." She said it so matter-of-factly, almost as if it didn't hurt her on some level. "Also where you so rudely got into bed with me uninvited."
Hades shifted uncomfortably underneath her. Thank Styx the lamps were still unlit, or else she would see the blush creeping along his face and neck. Or the nervous twitch of his mouth. Or the way he could hardly hold eye contact with someone he couldn't even see properly now let alone—
He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, half wondering who the hell drugged his ambrosia. "Would—
"Would you consider it rude if someone were to kiss you uninvited?"
Persephone felt the air run from her lungs. It took her a moment to school her voice back to a normal volume, though it still shook. "That depends," she swallowed.
"On?"
"Whether or not you're asking."
"If yes?"
"Then, um..." Persephone took a deep breath, forcing the words out before they decided to retreat. "Then no."
Hades slid his hand from her waist and into her hair—uneven, messy, filthy with fruit and powder and sweat—
Persephone pressed her lips to his before she thought better of it.