Rosalind

Three

Once by a river, he stepped into a boat carefully, holding out his hand to help her in. She took a deep breath in, and took his hand, stepping onto the boat. It wiggled a little before settling and she sat down. He followed suit and the oars began moving by themselves.

The closer they got, the sunnier, the greener, the more colourful it became. The river turned to a tropical blue, there were soft clouds and birch trees in the distance. The water became clearer, there was coral and glowing fish.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Atticus spoke softly, her attention snapped back to him, he was eyeing her face and smiling.

"It's gorgeous." She said. He stepped of the boat and onto the bank, he tied the rope to a log and gently helped her get out of the boat. The sand was the softest she ever felt, just the right amount of roughness to define it from candy floss or snow.

"It's insane, right?" Atticus held a perfect smile, taking his jacket off and putting it on the boat. She noticed he was wearing a yellow button up and dark blue bottoms, cuffed.

"Yeah." She chuckled lightly and looked around, wandering further. Taking in the beauty, there were rainbows, colourful, blooming flowers, the same orbs of light wandering around that she saw in Asphodel Meadows. These orbs were more shaped, they quickly grew into the shapes of people. Ghosts, colourless, but they seemed content. They all interacted with one another.

"If you can believe it, Isle of the Blessed is much more beautiful," Atticus leaned into her ear, she couldn't imagine it. "partly because I snuck a statue of myself in there." He laughed. It was like music to her ears.

"What kind of people get here?" She asked.

"Mainly demigods, Achilles and philosophers, those kinds of people." He held out his hand for her to take, which she did. A little too enthusiastically. He led her through the field, there was a gazebo, purple flowers grew around the supporting poles. It was all too magnificent for her mind to take it, but she managed.

"Here," He pulled out a pamphlet and opened it for her. "this is some of the most famous people to reside here." She flicked through the pages, recognising very few names. Some must have been from an incredibly long time ago, or she didn't pay as much attention in history like she thought.

"Atticus! Good afternoon." A young boy called out; he was blonde with freckles. He didn't seem to be a ghost, he seemed quite real like Atticus and Hecate had. "Dear Rosalind, lovely to meet you."

"How did you know my name?" She asked, her grip tightened on Atticus' hand, prepared for this to turn into a nightmare.

But she wasn't dreaming.

"Oh, I just know things sometimes." He had an airy aura to him, exceptionally light, he seemed to daydream and slowly wander down into fields.

"Who was he?" She whispered to Atticus.

"He's harmless, his names , he's an Erote. He's usually around here, or with his siblings in Olympus." He explained, her eyes followed him down to where the tall, willow tree was.

"Where do gods go, when they die?" She asked.

"Gods die when no one remembers them," He leaned over the railing of the gazebo, she followed his gaze to a pond, some orbs dancing and feint singing. "None of us have really died, there's so many scholars and historians in the overworld keeping us alive."

"Some of you really rely on all press is good press, aye." She joked.

"That's Zeus' yearbook quote." He smiled brightly, turning to Rosalind. "He may be my uncle, but he's most people's father." He shook his head, holding in a laugh.