With her task done, Proserpina gently tugged off of her gloves and half-turned away from him, the shadows already growing to take her home… but Alastor suddenly held his hand out, his fingers very nearly touching the shadow as he stood up, as if intending to follow her.

At that, Proserpina wordlessly commanded the shadows to disperse all at once before it stole his. She glared at the stormy skies, her gaze tired and accusing because she was so certain that somewhere out there in the clouds, way up high in Mount Olympus... there was a certain goddess of love laughing while watching Proserpina's current dilemma.

Then again, it could be Eros for all she knew…

"Are you deaf or are you dense?" Proserpina snapped, not bothering to look behind her, "I am not interested."

"Is this because I'm a werewolf?"

–Excerpt from Chapter IV: Touch Me Not

Descent is created by Ataraxia, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

DescenT

"Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn't have. Maybe there's a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again."


At some point, one of the pretty girls he'd been staring aimlessly at had stopped by to chat and before Alastor knew it, he was laughing and being dragged by the hand somewhere on the dance floor with her and what was her name again–Art? Angel? He thinks it starts something with an 'A'–ah, whatever, far from his twin and she was dancing and grinding against him. 


Even through the dizziness of being drunk, her skin still smelled so sweet–but not quite like home, not vanilla and honey–and not at all like someone he had been hoping for.


Chapter 31: Intoxication