. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
“In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, who, squatting upon the ground, held his heart in his hands, and ate of it.
 I said, ‘Is it good, friend?’
‘It is bitter—bitter,’ he answered:
‘But I like it. Because it is bitter… and because it is my heart.’”
― Stephen Crane
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“You know, before I m-met you…”
 
Something suddenly blurred in his eyes and Dionysus hastily wiped at it, his voice breaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
 
“I seriously thought all gods are bound to become arrogant, power-hungry jerks… and why wouldn’t we be? We’re on top of the fucking food chain, after all… but you… for some reason, I really thought you’re gonna be it. The fucking exemption.”
 
Her grip on Thanatos slackened.
 
“I admired you!” Dionysus repeated, his words coming out as a choked cry, “Do you hear me, you fucking brat?! I ADMIRED YOU!”
 
Thunder echoed again, somewhere near, and far.
 
“YOU CHANGED MY MIND! YOU MADE ME BELIEVE DAMN IT!”
 
“D-Dionysus…”
 
“Before I met you, I used to believe that power only existed for us gods to do whatever fuck we please and that was completely okay! It’s not like there’s anyone who can stop us, anyway but… b-but then,” he turned his head away slightly to the other side, angrily clawing away at his traitorous tears, “… but then you showed up. And you showed me just how wrong that thinking is!”
 
She stared at him, stunned.
 
He glared at her, “You were the one who showed me that we can still be more than whatever role we were made out to be, you were the one that made me believe we can still be of more help to the humans!”
 
“I believed that, too…” she murmured, “Once, I…”
 
“Yes, you were hopeful. You still wanted for things to change. For the better! And that’s the kind of person I know you to be… the kind of person who would lend out a helping hand rather than cutting it off,” Dionysus bit out coldly, bitterly, his eyes flashing purple amidst the darkened skies, “Not a treacherous bitch lashing out against anyone you perceived to have offended you, whoever the actual fuck they are.”
 
“I did not betray anyone!” Proserpina suddenly snapped, gnashing her teeth like an angry animal, “He was the one who–”
 
And it’s hilarious, the god of wine thinks, morbidly, in a pathetic sort of way, how the goddess of shadows seems to be so sure to even think like that. As if the son of Hypnos hadn’t treated her and William like they were his own grandchildren after all this time. As if Rei hadn’t doted on them even after they went both past 18.
 
Because right from the very start, she had wanted power to protect herself and whoever she cares about… which is not exactly a bad idea. It’s a good thing, actually, that she had the initiative to care. That she was responsible enough, regardless of how old she was back then.
 
However, somewhere along the jagged path, she soon lost her way. The very reason why she had wanted and needed that power in the first place all but cast aside… until she was hellbent on ignoring any and all consequences, damn whoever she had to get rid of, her foolishness transcending the realm of reason he was still trying to make her see.
 
“You didn’t even seek power for its own sake, unlike most of us,” and he laughs at the senselessness of it all, “You only had it because you wanted to live. To make things better for others, for William. But now… you…”
 
“What? I’m what?” she dared.
 
“You are so fucking blind,” he murmurs.
 
That French Abbot, Bernard of Clairvaux, was clearly on to something when he said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
 
Here is a shining example of that.
 
I’m blind?” the goddess of shadows scoffs, incredulous and hysterical as she stares at him like he was the one who had lost his mind. “I’m not the one who ignores a problem for gods only knows how long until it becomes big enough to be a threat!”
 
“That’s right, you’re not!”
 
She falters, shocked.
 
“Because that’s how you are! How you were,” he tells her, and he almost wants to start crying all over again that he even has to remind her of this. “You used to exist with plans to make a difference!”
 
“Because I see now that mere ideals couldn’t make the world change or be safe,” Proserpina seethed, her eyes glittering amidst the rain and dying flames like a hungry abyss, “I no longer look upon this world through rose-tinted glasses, like you do.”
 
“Since when does having morals equates to being naïve?” Dionysus demanded, rain and tears clinging to his eyes, “Since when, Proserpina? Since when?!”
 
She snarls, no better than cornered animal.
 
He shakes his head at her, “Yeah, sure, maybe you’re right about this world being a shitty place but it’s the only world the humans get to live in! It can still be beautiful!”
 
“How?! By watching it burn in on itself?!”
 
“At the very fucking least, back then, you genuinely wanted to make it better! Your way was just and satisfying. So, what the actual hell happened to you now?!”
 
“William happened! You know this-!”
 
“Why do you keep on insisting having that poor kid as your own moral compass?” he shouted, shoving at her, “Why do you keep burdening him with your own emotional shit?!”
 
She blanched, “I didn’t-”
 
“What about your pride? Your confidence?” he demanded, jabbing a finger at her. “What the fuck happened to your stupid, noble principles?! THOSE BELIEFS?! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU, PROSERPINA?!”
 
A drop of blood fell down her cheek.
 
Like another teardrop.
 
“There was this saying,” Dionysus quietly began, as he looks at the now-dying flames right behind her, “In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
 
Her brows furrowed in bewilderment.
 
She didn’t understand.
 
She couldn’t understand.
 
He shook his head at her, frustrated and so, so disappointed beyond belief, “But you…? You have always been blind, goddess of shadows.”
 
“I’m not the one who’s blind…!”
 
“You’re the one who doesn’t see that you’ve literally become the shadow of your own self!” he spat, feeling the slightest bit of petty satisfaction at the way her shoulders hunched in defense.
 
“I… I’m not. I…”
 
He mockingly gestured to her from head to toe, “If you seriously believe that this cynical, traitorous monster is the real Proserpina, then you’re fucking wrong. This twisted shadow I see before me is nothing but a pathetic husk, completely nothing to the original!”
 
“Maybe you never knew me at all,” she retorted.
 
And Dionysus was so ashamed to admit, even if it was just for a second, if only to himself, that he thought maybe she was right.
 
Maybe he was wrong.
 
Maybe any kindness he saw on her once upon a time was just an illusion. His own, broken mind putting warmth into the shadows only because he wanted to see it.
 
But no.
 
He refused to believe that.
 
“I don’t know you now!” he counters, “I don’t know you anymore! NOT WHILE SOMETHING HAS FORCED ITSELF INTO YOUR MIND! CAN’T YOU SEE? CAN’T YOU SEE?! IT’S DESTRYOING YOU! PROSERPINA, WHY THE FUCK CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!”
 
The way those already dark eyes seemed to grow so dull amidst the misty rain and embers will forever haunt him.
 
But he wasn’t done yet.
 
“You always think you’re in control but you’re not! Keeper of Death, my ass! Haven’t you really noticed that it’s the other way around?!”
 
“Death is not controlling me!”
 
“OH, WAKE UP, PROSERPINA!” Dionysus shouts, his voice rattling the very trees, “JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF! LOOK AT THE FUCKING MIRROR! HOW ARE YOU STILL IN CONTROL!? HOW ARE YOU STILL THE PROSERPINA I KNOW?!”
 
“I wasn’t aware I had a standard,” she bitterly bit out.
 
“You don’t!” he snaps, “You just refuse to admit that you’re wrong. Not only because you hate yourself… but because you’re also fucking terrified of what you’ve become!”
 
“I don’t even fear death, what makes you think I fear myself?!”
 
“Because you’re a fucking liar!”
 
Her eyes flashed. Thanatos. “Î̧͈̥͆ ̹̪̗̰͈͒́ͨͦ͟d̨̗̤̥̜̍͋į̘͖͉̺͖͇̹̒̃́d̤ͭ͟ͅ ̘̘̺̯̥̥ͨ̒ͧ̋͘n̴̠̦̞̰̑ớ̘͕̺̺͔ͬͅt̘̞̼̬̫̍̾̐̅͝ ̩͇̬̦͔̔̂̃̀ͅl̵̜̺̻̄į͇̮̭̭͂ͪ̋̀e̺̼̭͕̠͇͈̱̎̋͞ ̭̜ͣ̈̈̊͟t̗͓͔̯̱̹̆͢o̖̲͙ͮ͂͟ ̼̳͎̝ͧ̎ͦ͞ͅḧ̠̻̣̻̯̟̻́ͧ͂ͦ̀e̢̠͉̫̜̬̙̬͔ͥr̬̼̦̯̲ͣͧ̀ͅ-̫̞̍ͪ͆͒͡!̟̹̮̳̄͒̕”
 
“Come on, Poppy!” Dionysus yelled, grabbing, and desperately holding on to her shoulders, stopping her from raising her damned sword again, “You have to fight it, you’re better than this! I know you’ve been through hell and back literally, that you’re angry and sad and hurt about William, about that vampire… but you can’t let them turn you into a monster!”
 
She thrashed in his grip, “S̢̯̠̝̭͇͂ͅt̰̠̩͓̀͆͝o͙̬͎̯̠̥͑ͥ͐̓͟p̉̓͏͎̜̜͖͙!̴̬̥̤͙̫͍͕̎ͪͤͭͅ Stop it!”
 
“Don’t let them!”
 
“Stop it, Dionysus! I said-”
 
“PLEASE…!”
 
“STOP IT!”
 
“Look! Look at yourself!” he pleaded.
 
She shoved him off of her, “Aρκετά…!”
 
“I SAID LOOK AT YOURSELF! LOOK AT YOUR SELF GODS DAMN IT! JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF, PROSERPINA!”
 
“ΣΤΑΜΑΤΑ ΤΟ!”
 
“LOOK AT WHAT YOU’RE ABOUT TO DO…!”
 
She screams, the sound raw and not human.
 
The sudden outburst was met with a deafening silence for a long moment; the entire forest seeming too scared to make a noise in the wake of a sound so threatening and filled with raw power.
 
Proserpina was standing literally inches away from Dionysus, who had been backing away into one of the still-standing trees. His back was pressed painfully against the decaying wood as he stared, pale and defiant, straight into the god of death’s eyes.
 
Eyes that had grown so black they literally looked like the very depths of Tartarus itself. Her fists were clenched so tightly that they creaked with the sound of bones breaking.
 
Both fists were holding on to Thanatos.
 
And it had been poised to kill.