DESCENT

XXIII-An old friend (for real this time)

PROSERPINA:

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

Honestly, it would have been a whole lot easier if she just feigned nonchalance, she knows this already, if she had just dropped Alastor off 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 got to know each other.

It had been inevitable.

They were truly bound to meet, after all.

Alistair had been the thread.

But still, the truth is, she had hoped, a part of her had seriously dared to hope that Alastor will remember, that in the morning they could make this somehow work and well, she... she just didn't want him to wake up thinking that she left him behind again.

She didn't want to put him through that, too.

And yet, here she was, by the pool again... and not too far from the house so if Alastor thinks to peek out of the curtains, she was certain he could see her and follow her all the way out here.

So, it's okay, right?

It's not like another god will come by and–

The smell of grapes suddenly struck her like a whip splash. "What's with the long face, ghoul face?" a drunken slur, "...haven't you made sweet love to puppy there yet?"

. . .

"Do not choose friends who only flatter you, but who understand you. True friendship implies willingness to speak frankly, to point out the mistakes we made and to exchange opinions freely."

—Eraldo Banovac

. . .

'...well, that came out of nowhere.'

She spoke too soon it seems.

The goddess of shadows screwed her eyes shut, counting down from ten to one, visualizing the numbers and having them in rhythmically as she breathed in and out lest her temper flares.

Now, she was thinking for the nth time ever since the god of the sun showed up and all but ruined her morning... just what is it with her that all the other gods of Olympus (Demeter and Artemis, Proserpina could understand, but Apollo and Aphrodite? Never in a million years) that they saw it fit to randomly poke their nose in her own private affairs when she had pointedly made it clear she could have cared less to any of them?

Well, no... not really all of them.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she muttered.

Dionysus smiled, chugging down wait... is that vodka?!

It... kind of smells like one but the liquid was such a vivid shade of violet, its freaking her out. Proserpina wasn't sure what it was, and she thinks she didn't really want to know.

"Nothing really good happens these days, so... the news about you, our sweet little poppy fucking someone is some good shit~" Dionysus slurred as he plopped down next to her, his legs kicking to and fro in the water like a hyperactive toddler, splashing her thighs briefly as he let out a particularly loud belch, "so... did you have fun last night?"