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

Alistair Nyx had been peacefully puking his guts outside (fine, maybe he did kind of deserve it, maybe this is the spirit of Nemesis kicking him in the ass right now because getting drunk right off the bat just to delay the inevitable interrogation session from his twin brother was a remarkably bad idea) when he felt rather than heard someone seeming to approach him, their footsteps were near to non-existent... if it weren't for the hair on the back of his neck seeming to stand up straight in attention at the presence.


And not to mention, this person has a strangely nostalgic scent that would have, should have lowered his guard; it reminded him of a home he could never return to, of a person that he once know of but could never see again.


...but at the same time, the cold waves emitting from this person felt like a cold bucket of ice-water drenching him in from head to toe, snapping him out of the sleepy daze almost instantly:


Chapter 35: The White Wolf (part 1)