ੈ｡ﾟ ･ׂׂ ✩ RED⌇˚ɞ act iii . . . the dying breaths of hope
· 。ﾟ *. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 THIRTY-THREE ───── ❛ no thanks, rather die ❜
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LAURIE DIDN'T remember the Underworld ever being so cold. The chill hit her lungs and spread across her skin before her eyes ever even opened, but when they did, she didn't find what she had expected.
Instead of the drab darkness of Hades's domain, she found herself sprawled out on a bed of wild flowers. A meadow stretched out for miles to her left, right, and behind, interrupted only by the extraordinary garden that resided squarely in front of her.
It held everything imaginable as far as vegetation went. Beds of flowers from every season and in every color, trees and vines overfilled with precious fruits and veggies. In the centre stood a tall and proud tree with glorious branches that seemed to extend over almost the entire garden, hanging over it like a canopy of lush protection.
Its roots were encircled with a semicircle of pomegranate shrubs, sharing the soil and nutrients effectively, as the fruits were shiny and glowing a ruby red.
The sky seemed to be frozen in an endless sunset, a colorful array of soft pinks and purples without a cloud in sight. Or the sun, for that matter.
Laurie was sure that she'd been so horrible in her life that instead of going to the Underworld, she was now stuck in a permanent state of comatose insanity.
The scent wafting through the air smelt of home, though she was unsure of exactly where that was.
Wobbly, Laurie pulled her hands from the soft grass beneath her and stood to her feet, relinquishing the comforting sensation of the earth.
Wandering blindly, she stumbled her way towards the garden, given no better idea and still feeling disoriented.
When she got closer, she could see them. Breath pulling from her lungs, she felt the brief shock residing in her stomach before it slowly dissolved.
Tending to the flowers and fruit were a handful of young garden hands with delicate touches and timeless clothing, hair sleek and faces peaceful. And more prominently— they were luminous, opaque, and unmistakably, dead.
Everything fell into place when she saw the woman that rounded the corner, appearing out of a swath of hydrangeas. Curls the color of honey and amber were tucked delicately behind her ears and beneath a golden circlet that seemed to be made out of every aspect of nature. Her skin was caramel in shade and radiating with life, matching perfectly with her brilliant eyes that seemed to reflect the same colors as her daughter's. The one thing they had in common.
