Nights of Alsitor: Hades and Persephone Ch. 03

Hades opened his eyes, and was lost.

He was on his back, naked and cold, his body sore where it was pressed against the curling shapes carved into the stone floor. Over his head was a stone vault, fifty feet across and decorated with a magnificent frieze depicting scenes and letters he could not understand, lit by the dim glow of the fluorescent synth-algae crafted by the cave-nation's organsmiths.

He sat up with a grunt. He had slept like a log and was well-rested, if a bit hungry, but he understood that the happy memory left by Persephone wouldn't be enough to save him from the upcoming trials. Survivors of tribute were fiercely loyal to the iron-clad secrecy demanded by the Ephaemeryl nation, revealing only that they were subjected to a crucible designed to test the very fabric of their identity. Hades' imagination ricocheted through his head as he looked around; the symbol he had been sleeping on was at the center of the chamber, and was surrounded at its periphery by seven distinct, unusual symbols, each one in the direction of a different door, each door leading down a hallway. He was in the center of an underground stone maze, and his heart wept with dread at the possibilities hiding in the hallways.

His eye caught on one symbol; an upside-down yellow triangle resting between two pink circles. He looked up to the corresponding gate, and, with a resolved sigh, walked through.

Hades had followed the dim hallway through a few turns when he heard it; singing. A soft, melodic humming of a tune he almost recognized, in a voice that was undeniably Ephaemeryl. He turned a corner and found himself in a room, large as a hall and lavishly furnished with sofas, mirrors, desks and amenities. In a large alcove carved into a rock, humming in her clear, shining voice, was an Ephaemeryl turned toward what looked like an oven at the bottom of a chimney.

Hades stood, transfixed at her back wrapped in white fabric flowing from a green girdle, the edges of her body curving in and out in ways that bent his mind. He felt the forced perspective of her bulging hips and buttocks, making them seem like they were pushing towards him. She was short, gold-haired, white-skinned and salaciously plump, and when she raised her arms he caught a glimpse of the side of the odd swelling of her chest. He recognized her as the one who had questioned Persephone.

With a tut-tut and a brushing of her hands, she turned around. As she raised her eyes to Hades, she flinched with a gasp. Hades, in a daze up to then, became aware of himself standing naked before a stranger.

"Oh!" he shrank down bashfully, "I've intruded! I am so sorry," he hurried for the door, shaking his head, "this is bad, I'm terribly-"

"Stop!" Her voice was light and beautiful, but he could still sense the command in her word. He turned around, confused. She could speak his language?

The person in white had already calmed down. Pressing a hand to her breast, she tilted her head and smiled at him. "You had chosen me first! I had not been chosen first before. I have been this happy for that!" Her accent and manner of speaking was distinct from Persephone, but she definitely had a command of the language. She walked over to a cushioned sofa, sitting in one and patting the seat beside her. "You should come! I had sat, you had best sit beside here!"

Unsure but obedient, Hades gulped and walked over to her, holding his arms in front of him as best he could. Nervously avoiding her eyes, he sat down- the cushion sank under him, amazingly soft and joyously warm against his chilly skin.

"You had been there early!" she continued, seeming to be utterly pleased with the scenario. She had bright green eyes, a button nose, and scarlet lips with a modest mole above the corner of her mouth. "It had been kind of you to fall asleep. We had no need to drug you! Waking early has no issue."

He looked at her, and she at him. Her eyes darted to the oven, then back to him, and her smile widened. "This has time. I can have something. Tell me, Hades... do you like corn?"

Holding her gaze, he furrowed his brow, confused by the question. "Uhm... yes?"

"And cheese? You had liked cheese?" Her gaze was intense, and she was drawing deeper breaths.

"Yes... yes, I like cheese a lot."

"And spices?" she scooted closer to him on the couch, "Spices that burn? And garlic? And salt?"

"I like all of those things, but why-"

Hades was cut off by a melodic chime from an odd clockwork contraption on a nearby counter. She hopped to her feet and scurried over to the oven, grabbing some towels and opening the door. Hades heard the sound of sizzling and wondered what kind of curious fare they ate in the caves. She walked back to him, placing a tray on the low table before the couch. It was unimpressive to look at, a pile of jagged scraps splattered with some bubbling beige slime, splotchy with a dusting of spices that was clearly not designed to look presentable.

Then the smell hit him.

Oh Moon and Sky, the smell! A sharp pain hit his jaw as his salivary glands exploded in excitement, and his empty stomach roared as he stared wide-eyed at the plain-looking dish before him, the fragrance of garlic and pepper and hot carbohydrates churning in his nostrils. She plopped down next to him. "Here, we had called this... a 'nacho.' It had long served us as a staple, and I have pride in my skill to cook. Now, Hades, I want to do something." As he looked at her, her face was dead serious. "I want to watch you eat it."

He paused only a moment to see if she was joking, but he didn't question her. Leaning over the table, he grabbed a corner and pulled off a piece of the mass, marveling at the beauty of the strings stretching apart. He placed the shard on his tongue and bit down. The memory of that moment would reverberate through the rest of his life. He burned his tongue and he didn't care, the ballet of cheese and seasoning sweeping across his senses and erasing his worries. He grabbed another piece, then another, then another, scarfing them down before he realized he was eating alone. Embarrassed, he swallowed and turned to his host, who was watching him intently with a blush in her cheeks and a focused intensity in her eyes.

"You, uh... had better have some?" he offered uncertainly. "If you don't, I might eat them all."

"Eat them all," she commanded. "I had ate always, they are not special to me, but your first taste is a treasure. I am enjoying this more than you."

Hades was confused, but also hungry and he didn't need another invitation. He descended on the nacho like a wolf on a lamb, his hands barely having time to touch them between the tray and his mouth. As he filled up, he slowed to savor the experience, admiring the shape and form of the crispy tiles and the way the pale gel wrapped around each one. In minutes, the tray was empty.

"Do you know why that had made me happy?" she asked, her face and voice revealing a strange excitement. Hades shook his head, sluggish from the meal. "Empathy. A skill that can be strengthened, the link between souls that shares pain, that can be very terrible. When your parents had died of sickness, or your friend had suffered some injury, you had cursed empathy for the pain. But sometimes," she leaned in close to him, her bosom brushing his bare arm, "you share the right moment. I have much empathy, and have it for you. To share in your first nacho, that is worth the pain of empathy."

She twisted, pulling her thigh onto the sofa to face Hades. "You are grateful for nacho?"

Hades responded rapidly, "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you!"

With a satisfied grin, she nodded. "And I am grateful to you for having them. In the world, so much is to make the other lose, to defeat the competition, to take from or have taken from you. That this, this nacho, can happen? That two can both be grateful? It is rare, and it is precious. Something that our nations long ago chose to cultivate as an art, pursue as a dream, and protect fiercely. That is why there is tribute."

She clapped her hands and smiled at Hades. "Now. Important lesson in empathy is gratitude, important lesson in gratitude is reciprocation. Are you ready to reciprocate?"

Screamingly curious, he nodded. She put her hand to his chest and pushed him back slowly, until he had descended into the wonderful kingdom of that sofa, fine fabrics containing feather-softness pressing him at all sides, making him feel like he was lying on a cloud.

He watched intently as she reached to the back of her neck and tugged at a string. Two lengths of fabric rising from the edge of her girdle tumbled forward, unleashing the shape of her chest. Hades' jaw dropped- he still wasn't used to Ephaemeryl physiology, and something about these growths just blew him away. Hers were different from those of Persephone, milky-white with teensy pink nipples, and each one about the size of his head.

"For you to learn, that is out task. From me, you must learn of this," she slid her hands under each of the lobes, lifting them. Hades' mind felt like a ship in a storm. "They have many names. Do you know what they are?"

Dumbstruck, he answered weakly, "Everyone knows the stories. How as Ephaemeryl grow, they are visited by a pair of beings, angels of pure mercy and compassion that bring only warmth and love, with bodies molded of hope made solid, whose heart's blood is the very essence of life itself."

She raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Good. You enjoy?"

In Hade's mind, that sentence was grammatically incorrect and of unclear meaning. "Yes," he said with certainty.

"What you must learn..." she continued, rubbing her hands over her breasts, "For us, they are very delicate, fragile... the slightest injury is agony." She dragged her fingers up across her nipples. "...but there is pleasure there, a special joy. The way it feels to be moved... it had been good memories, something one wants to do again." She reached over him, putting her hand on his thigh, and heaving herself up to sit in his lap. Her generous weight pressing down on him, putting him deeper into the cushion, was magnificent. "You touch the angels, I feel my angels touched, and we are both grateful, yes?" She slowly reclined, laying down on top of him until the top of her head brushed his chin.

A surge of animal lust exploded in Hades. With a snarl, he slapped his hands to her flesh and gripped them like a rock-climber. Instantly, she yelped "STOP!" and he pulled his hands away, terrified.

"I- oh, I'm so sorry! I've hurt you, I've hurt the angels, oh I'll never-"

"Hades," she interrupted him, reaching back to stroke his cheek. She pulled her head back to look up at him. There was no anger in her eyes. "You are here as my student. If you do not know something, it is because I need to teach you." She took his hands and lay them on top of her breasts. "Gently, this time."

His hands didn't move for a second, laying limp on top of her flesh. Slowly, he stretched out his fingers, dragging his fingertips lightly against her skin, tracing circles that went wider and wider until his touch flitted all across her orbs- his hands felt so rough and jagged compared to her unblemished skin.

"Good. Deeper, now."

Gulping, Hades wrapped his palms around each mammary. He flexed his hands, squeezing a little, then a little more, pumping them harder and harder until she said, "Good. That's enough." Noting her pain threshold, he maintained that firmness, pleased that he was actually learning to understand these baffling artifacts. He kept like that for nearly a minute before she added, "Make them move."

They were both breathing heavily already, but her words triggered something in him. He cupped the breasts from below and pushed them up, then squished them back down. He squeezed them against each other, then tugged them to the side. He flattened them against her ribs, then scooped them straight away from her. Hades couldn't comprehend how this creature's body was warping his mind, but he enjoyed it like a recreational drug. He obsessively observed her every response, the whimpers under her breath, the way her body twisted in time to her breasts, drafting a map in his mind of what she enjoyed. With a few minutes of exploration, his hands moved like that of an artist; sliding up her cleavage, drumming his fingers, giving a playful jiggle, delicately rolling the nipples.

Indented into the couch, their bodies rubbing together, she was breathing faster and faster until she gave a squeal and sat upright. Lifting herself to her feet, she picked up the flaps of her dress and secured them, covering her breasts again. Turning to the confused and still jug-drunk Hades, she lauded him. "You have done very well. I am satisfied. You are ready. It is time to continue your journey."

"I- wha-" Hades argued, "Just like that? It's done?"

"I am. For now. You have much to learn, and many teachers. This lesson is over, but there are many more."

"But, I- you- will I ever see you again?"

"If you choose to return, you may find me. I travel often, and in years of tribute I have had many students, but you shall always be able to find me if you try."

"Others? ...I suppose there would be, wouldn't there."

"Yes," she sighed, putting her hands on her hips, "I understand it is hurtful for your kind to think of this, but it must be. You had not been first or last for me."

Sitting up, Hades was clearly disappointed at the prospect of being forgotten. "Could-" he hesitated, the sadness tainting his voice, "Could you please tell me your name?"

She looked at him, surprised. Slowly, a grin spread over her blushing face. She took Hades' head in her hands and planted a kiss on his forehead- the first kiss he'd ever been given by an Ephaemeryl. She looked deep in his eyes and said, "Few students have asked me that. You are special to me, and I shall remember you. My name is Hera. I hope for you good fortune, Hades."