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

Before she and Alastor can go shopping later–does this count as a date?–Proserpina had fully intended to leave the house not too far or for long seeing as she no longer felt that secure ever since they've been attacked there) when she returned to the shadows to rest.


As an underworld goddess, Proserpina no longer thrives in the realm of the living unless she wills it. 


That's why, at some point, she's usually on the prowl at night and always had to return to the darkness, to the shadows by morning if she wished to keep her physical being intact. Despite the lack of given mass or any sort of physical substance, the shadows had always felt cold to her. 


Chapter 52: Divine Retribution