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

Proserpina had already considered the possibility of Alastor forgetting some of what happened last night but she still couldn't stop the pang of frustration, the twinge of humiliation of having to be the only one to remember because it may as well have never happened, it may as well have never been real.


It would have been easier if she just feigned nonchalance, she knows this already, if she had just dropped Alastor to his twin last night instead of bringing him along with her but she couldn't further lament at the loss of a chance because of that gods damned Apollo ratting her out to Hades like a freaking child. Then, again, she did dig her own grave on this one, that's for sure.


And yet, there was a part of her that couldn't help but marvel at how she and Alastor's fates had been linked together long before they even get to know each other.


They were truly bound to meet, after all.


Chapter 48: Dionysus plays Cupid