The Taste Of Divinity

Ε Π Τ Α

T H R O N E    R O O M,   U N D E R W O R L D.

Meanwhile, in the underground kingdom of loss and heartache, strangled thoughts and terrible cries filled the air. They were loud, loud enough to make the anaglyphs and the frescos on the walls groan and bellow in agony.

The walls howled louder as the heavy doors that led to the throne room opened, admitting a slender, waif-like figure whose each step was followed by a wail of torment and despair.

It was rather fitting.

Minthe held back a sigh as she caught sight of the sulking King with the crown of Sunrays. Another brief look and another inward sigh, she stalked forward, moving in such a way that showed she was more water than flesh. Her ample hips swayed provocatively as though a non existent, lewd wind had unexpectedly decided to worship them.

On her wrists and fingers, she wore bracelets and rings of silver and bronze. They collided against one another as she walked, the noises they produced merely an attempt to silence the theatrics of the souls standing before the judges in the other room.

Maybe even a cry for attention.

Regardless of her motive, she did not attain what she craved. Not from the souls whose useless pleadings crescendoed as the moments passed and certainly not from the King, who sat on his throne of ebony, drenched in melancholy and mourning perpetually.

"Did you want something?" Hades inquired without lifting his gaze. The rubies that usually sat on his palm had been replaced by one of the nardus blooms Persephone had gifted him with. He absent-mindedly twirled the herb between his fingers as the naiad stepped closer.

"Perhaps." She responded, watching in fascination as his movements increased in speed and the object he held lost its shape in a blur of colours.

"I don't have time to play games with you."

"Yes," she agreed, cynically lifting an eyebrow at his sitting figure while bringing a hand to smoothe a few stray strands of hair from the nape of her neck. Her hair, long and darker than the blazing fires of Tartarus, gleamed like melted silver as the pins she wore caught the glare of the artificial night light."You seem quite preoccupied, my Lord."

A sigh of utter annoyance crossed the threshold of his sculpted lips. "State what you want or leave. As I said, I don't have time to waste on you."

Minthe felt a muscle in her cheek twitch. She ignored it, putting on her brightest grin. Her hands trailed to the sides of the pale coloured chiton that molded to her curves, teasingly curling the tips of her fingers around the ornate pattern on the fabric and lifting it ever so slightly to reveal a set of milky ankles. "I wanted to show you my new gown. If you do not approve of it, my Anax, I can always remove it. Tell me, would you wish to see how it looks on the floor?"

The slightest twitch appeared on his tragic lips. "It would be quite the change to see how a chiton you own looks worn."

"You make the oddest jokes."

"It is lovely." Hades commented at last, disregarding her words. His gaze lowered, watching as more and more skin was revealed. He knew her body well, having tasted it time and time again when he wished to suffocate the dreams and seek release. It was odd, how it left him cold, how what was once familiar and comforting now seemed foreign. He did not mourn the loss of the familiarity, even though perhaps he ought to. "However, whether you wear or use it to mop the floors does not interest me in the slightest."