The Beginning : The Blood Rings Series (Hades & Persephone Reimagined)

Chapter 1: Persephone ۵♡۵

Persephone Ruthberg ۵♡۵

I was never one who fancied parties; however my father and mother adored them. Tonight was an event for the Hunters.

Though, I do not think you can consider us or anyone from Chicago as actual hunters.
The Hunters were storybook tales—stories of brave men and women who hunted down the creatures of the night.
I have never seen or believed in the idea of such things, to me hunters were made up bedtime stories you told your children to make them feel safe before tucking them into bed for the night.

"Rosebud, are you almost ready?! Marco will be arriving in ten minutes." I can hear the sound of my mother's voice; it was panicked. I'm not surprised, she is expecting me to be running behind, but luckily for her the only finishing touches I needed to my attire were my shoes. They were black to match the lace of the of my dress, they had a rose petal on the center of my closed toes. There was also a black gemstone in the middle of the flower.

"I'll be down in a moment, Momma!" I call back out to her, I can hear her audible sigh of relief, then her footsteps descending down the stairs. She was going check on my father to make sure he was ready too.
I take a look at myself in the mirror. My curled hair that my mother helped me roll the night before and then I did hers afterwards. I had lightly brushed through it with my fingers before pinning it turning the once tight ringlet curls into lose beach waves.
My hair was pinned back with a black and red rose beret. My hands then traveled down my dress, over the corset and I flattened out the ends of it. It was a long sleeve crimson red dress, the sleeves were black and laced with thumb holes that I slipped my natural long painted black thumb into.
The fabric of the dress is squeezed against my curves. If I had not been experienced with the tight knot and how my mother was known to for them; I would be struggling to breathe. However, I learned how to sneak two fingers underneath the corset while she was too focused on lacing me up; allowing me some breathing room.

     Finally, I took one final glance at my bedroom before I made my way down the stairs.

My father and mother were already waiting—standing at the end of the staircase hand in hand. They watched me make my descend, my manicured hand on the staircase to hold myself steady. I gave them a warm smile as my father extended his other hand that was not holding my mother's.
I took it, my smaller hand fitting snuggly into my father's wrinkled one. My father was a handsome man in his youth. According to my mother—he was the most stunning man she had ever laid eyes on. I suppose he did still have some of those features that I had seen in the older photographs of him and my mother. Now, his features have aged. His once dark hair was now had an array of grey, creating a salt and pepper effect. His beard was straggly, but it was still neatly trimmed on the sides the turned into sideburns; it matched the color of his hair.

My mother was still strikingly beautiful, even without makeup she was completely breathtaking. She still insisted on dying her hair, not following in my father's footsteps. It matched my dark brown and was naturally pin-straight . Her body was hour-glassed shaped in her wine colored cocktail dress. Her curls were pinned on both sides forming a bun on back of her hair, while the rest laid in tight curls as she had not brushed out her curls like I had. She also had a matching beret to one in my hair except hers was wine colored with a white gemstone in the middle opposed to my red and black one. Her skin was also the exact same as mine; tan and sun kissed. Hers face still full of youth and life. Freckles adored our checks and noses, along with two dimples when we smiled.
     "You look beautiful, Pom Pom." My father told me. The nickname was short for Pomegranate, growing up my favorite snack was pomegranate seeds. I would eat so many as a child that my mouth, lips, and chin would be stained bright blood red. My breathe would smell of pomegranate. My mother would get so frustrated, because she was always having to replace my clothes because they would be ruined and stained with pomegranate juices.
I still had the obsession for the fruit to this day; however it wasn't as messy. They are still my favorite snack, I incorporated the scent now into my lotion, perfumes, body wash, and shampoos. So the pet name fit perfectly.