Rose and Asphodel

Care to Dance?

The festival was already in full swing by the time Persephone and Hermes stepped from the air into the grass on the hillside. Even though the age of electricity permitted for a number of innovations—AI performances, LED lighting, hoverboards as transportation—the festivals of the gods retained some aspects of tradition.

Traditions Persephone had only read about thus far.

A bonfire blazed as high as the treetops at the center of everything. Tables laden with food were scattered about, too. The food was mostly from mortal sacrifices, interspersed with the nectar and ambrosia that actually sustained the gods.

There was never anything elaborate about the Solstice celebrations; every intricate ritual throughout the day had been done by mortals and attended, visibly or invisibly, by the gods receiving the sacrifice. Of course, mortal rituals had tapered off significantly in the last century, ever since the third World War and the escape of a number of mortals to other parts of the solar system, but there were still enough celebrants for Solstice to happen.

Now, after the day's mortal ceremonies had finished, was just a time for the gods to party and gloat to each other about the gifts they had received this year.

Persephone had no difficulty recognizing some of the glowing figures, although she could tell at a glance that about half of the Olympians hadn't shown up. Most people were minor gods, clustering around tables or dancing to the fast-paced tune played by Dionysus' satyrs and maenads.

"Hey," Hermes said in her ear. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah?" Persephone replied, but then the breeze whispered through the grass at her feet and she realized what Hermes saw in her face. "O-oh."

Life surrounded her, plant life, the life she was meant to hold in her hands. She stared down at the ground, where the grass brushed her sandaled feet. The grass had bowed to her, just like it had all those years ago, the one time she had gone out into her mother's field. Now, she turned in a slow circle to find the grass bent toward her as far as she could see.

"If my mother shows up, she'll have no difficulty finding me," she grumbled.

Even if her mother dragged her back home and locked her in a sunless room for years, Persephone knew that this was worth it. Her heartbeat matched the heartbeat of the world for the first time in her life. This was where she was meant to be, with her feet in the grass and the starlight swathed around her shoulders.

When she next met Hermes' eyes, she beamed.

He stared at her for a long moment before cutting his eyes back toward the festival.

"Uh," he said. "So, yeah, go enjoy yourself."

She wanted to ask him when Hades would arrive, but the festival was so close and she had never seen this many gods in her entire life, even at the only other festival she'd attended. Persephone squared her shoulders and made for the closest table of food, the grass adjusting to follow her as she moved.

Away from Hermes' protection, Persephone was exposed, just a young goddess in a pale gown moving through the crowd. There, dancing among his satyrs like a fiend, was Dionysus, cloaked with grapevines that blossomed, brought forth fruit, and dropped grapes to the ground to be stomped into the dirt by the revellers. He glowed silver in the moonlight, and when he turned to meet Persephone's eyes, she saw silver glittering on his face, in the corners of his eyes and smeared across his cheekbones.

The god of festivals' mouth dropped open. Persephone knew she was glowing. How could she not be, after touching life for the first time in centuries? There was grass beneath her feet. Even that hint of green was enough to bring forth the gold beneath her skin.