PROSERPINA:

Proserpina had already considered the possibility of Alastor forgetting some of what happened last night but she still couldn’t stop the pang of frustration, the twinge of humiliation of having to be the only one to remember because it may as well have never happened, it may as well have never been real.
It would have been easier if she just feigned nonchalance, she knows this already, if she had just dropped Alastor to his twin last night instead of bringing him along with her but she couldn’t further lament at the loss of a chance because of that gods damned Apollo ratting her out to Hades like a freaking child. Then, again, she did dig her own grave on this one, that’s for sure.
And yet, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but marvel at how she and Alastor’s fates had been linked together long before they even get to know each other.
It had been inevitable.
They were truly bound to meet, after all.
Alistair had been the thread.
But still, the truth is, she had hoped, a part of her had seriously dared to hope that Alastor will remember, that in the morning they could make this work and well, she… she just didn’t want him to wake up thinking that she left him behind again.
She didn’t want to put him through that too.
And yet, here she was, by the pool again and not too far from the house so if Alastor thinks to peek out of the curtains, she was certain he could see her and follow her all the way out here.
So it’s okay, right?
It’s not like another god will come by and–

The smell of grapes suddenly struck her like a whip splash. “What’s with the long face, ghoul face?” a drunken slur, “…haven’t you made sweet love to puppy there yet?”

. . .
“Do not choose friends who only flatter you, but who understand you. True friendship implies willingness to speak frankly, to point out the mistakes we made and to exchange opinions freely.”
―Eraldo Banovac
. . .

‘…well, that came out of nowhere.’

She spoke too soon it seems.
The goddess of shadows screwed her eyes shut, counting down from ten to one, visualizing the numbers and having them in rhythmically as she breathed in and out lest her temper flares.
Now, she was thinking for the nth time ever since the god of the sun showed up and all but ruined her morning, just what is it with her that all the other gods of Olympus–Demeter and Artemis, Proserpina could understand, but Apollo and Aphrodite? Never in a million years–that they saw it fit to randomly poke their nose in her own private affairs when she had pointedly made it clear she could have cared less to any of them?
Well no… not really all of them.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she muttered.
Dionysus smiled, chugging down wait… is that vodka?!
It… kind of smells like one but the liquid was such a vivid shade of violet, its freaking her out. Proserpina wasn’t sure what it was and she thinks she didn’t really want to know.
“Nothing really good happens these days, so the news about you, our sweet little poppy fucking someone is some good shit~” Dionysus slurs as he plopped down next to her, his legs kicking to and fro in the water like a toddler, splashing her thighs briefly as he let out a particularly loud belch, “so… did you have fun last night?”
She glared at him, “Go away.”
He took one, long look at her past red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t look like it,” he decides nonetheless, hiccupping, “Ariadne says hi, by the way.”
How sweet.
“Hurry and tell her I said hi back then.”
“Do it yourself,” he grumbles, “So what’s up with you?”
…she should have just stayed inside.
Already, she was regretting leaving the house.
‘The house or Alastor?’
Fine, Alastor, she should have just stayed some more and talk to him with anything else less serious because despite the sinking feeling of disappointment and annoyance (that kind of felt unfair on her part because it wasn’t really his fault that he didn’t remember…) she tried so hard to suppress in front of him, at least he seemed to have a semblance of being aware of his boundaries despite not remembering the details of their conversation, of their agreement.
She liked talking to him too.
Unlike this moron.
“We didn’t do anything scandalous, if that’s what you’re thinkin,” Proserpina snaps, kicking at his legs. He’s going to get her clothes wet if he doesn’t knock it off with the splashing.
He snorted, “How boring,”
“Sorry to burst your bubble.”
She wasn’t sorry, by the way.
She scowled, “Cut that out already!”
“Why?” he splashed her some more, “This is SO MUCH FUN!!”
“What are you, five?!”
“Oh come on, what’s the use of a pool if you don’t even like getting wet? Why are you even here?!” he snapped, kicking her back.
Proserpina’s scowl deepened, “I live here,”
“Whatever–oh, maybe… you did something to the poor bloke that’s why you’re sulking out here like a guilty brat,” Dionysus tapped his chin with the bottle, glancing her way with a smirk that suddenly tempted her to push him into the pool, never mind how childish that is.
“Why are you accusing me–?”
He hummed loudly, ignoring her, “Maybe you’re moping around here instead of getting it on right now–”
“It’s literally the middle of the day–”
“–because he didn’t remember you pouring your heart and soul out cause he was drunk?” Dionysus finished with a wicked grin, the white of his teeth bared, as if in challenge… as if daring her to tell him he was wrong.
‘That… that was too accurate to be a mere guess,’ Thanatos remarked.
Proserpina stared, her mind reeling.
“HA! TAKE THAT, BITCH!” Dionysus suddenly guffawed, pointing at her slackened face which she instantly shoves rather violently, he didn’t seemed to care as he continued to laugh, “So you better spill the beans before I spell it out for you, kid!”
She sneered, “Why should I?”
“Wolfy, Poppy sitting in a tree–”
“Dionysus, stop.”
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
Proserpina stands up, “I’m leaving.”
He scoffs, taking a sip and… hadn’t he just chugged it down? For real, how much does that thing had on?!
“Suit yourself but you know… if I things don’t go my way, I tend to be a little dramatic; a little madness here and there, drunken little wolves rolling and singing pretty pop songs,” already Proserpina can feel the back of her neck growing at the sudden memory while his grin widens, “you get the picture?”
Proserpina narrowed her eyes, “Are you threatening me?”
But Dionysus laughs again, swaying as if he was drunk and she had a half in mind to think that he always is.
“Nah, I’m just messing with you, ghoul-face,” the god of wine finally said once his laughter dies down, a semblance of clarity in his eyes, “…I’ve known, from the get-go, actually.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, “You… what?!”
“Uh-huh!” he tilted the bottle in her direction, smiling too smugly, “September 1st, remember? I may not be there to mingle amongst the fun crowd but my people–the nymphs and satyrs–were having a bacchanalia so I still kinda know and word travels fast when a werewolf who fucks once in a blue moon suddenly chased after you only to come back like a kicked puppy.”
That… made her guiltier.
As if to rub it in, Dionysus gave her such a disapproving look that made the bubbling guilt row heavier, “That was cold, even for you, by the way.”
Proserpina tried to keep her face blank, “You don’t know what you speak of,”
He sneered, “…you sure about that, kid?”
…Not really.
She should have just burned that place down.
The murderous thought must have reflected so clearly on her face because Dionysus scoffs, leaning away, “Oh come on, a little romp in the sheets never hurt anybody. I don’t get why you all are making such a big fuss over it, kid. Live a little,”
Proserpina raised an eyebrow as she sat back down again, “What an odd thing to say to an underworld goddess.”
He offered her the bottle which she pushed aside with a frown, he shrugs at her, taking another sip yet again, “Eh, you folks from below needed it. All you seemed to think about is work, work, work and more work–”
Proserpina can feel her patience running thin, “Excuse you–”
Dionysus suddenly slaps a hand on her mouth and if looks could kill, he would have died a hundred times over at the look she was giving him, “Let me finish, you ungrateful brat! …now, where was I? Right, work, work and more work! Oh, AND LOTS OF WORK, YIPEEE!”
“Your point being…?”
“While that’s cool and all, I think everyone’s entitled to be weird anyways because having fun, being happy and doing what you want to do isn’t a crime. You dig?”
Yes, she does.
…It’s almost scary how madness is making a lot more sense.
But it’s not that easy no matter how much the other god is making it sound like it was. Because she’s not doing any of this because she wants to, she’s doing it because she has to. Proserpina’s not like them… she doesn’t do things based on a whim.
Or… she tried not to, at least.
With Alastor around, Proserpina seems to find herself doing that a lot these days…. ever since the werewolf showed up, things she’d never even think of doing–compromising, bringing a man in her home, letting him sleep in her bed, tolerating him even if he was such an annoying drunk but couldn’t bring herself to say no to his outrageous antics–it honestly kind of feels like throwing her rationality out of the window.
Is this what having a soul mate does to people?
How frightening.
Proserpina pried his large palm off of her face, trying so hard not to wince at the lingering scent of strong alcohol and grapes on his skin, “Since when are you a therapist?”
He looked affronted, “Hey, I’m a good guy!”
She deadpanned.
Dionysus faltered, “…well, no, not really but I liked to think of myself as a good friend, at the very least.”
Proserpina didn’t bother to dignify that with a response.
“Tell you what–I think you really ought to make it up to that wolf boy of yours instead of leaving him hanging like this. Alastor Nyx? He seems like a swell dude, a bit of a loud one but if it makes you feel better, never saw him trip over himself from a girl.” he threw her a conspiratorial look, “That is, not until you came along…”
“…Because I’m his mate.”
(Still, it felt kind of liberating to say it now.
Especially at the look of sheer delight on Alastor’s face, like a kid opening his first gift on Christmas. She should have snapped a picture back then…)
“Whoa, really? Even better!” he grins, wriggling his eyebrows strangely, “Has he marked you yet? On a scale of one to ten, how mind-blowing was your first–?”
“DIONYSUS!” she snaps, feeling her face turning red.
He cackled, tipping his head back and chugging the entire bottle. And again, Proserpina wonders how come that bottle never gets empty. Was it because he’s the god of wine? Does he seriously have to drink every single time since it’s his thing or is the bottle just plain magical that’s why he’s so addicted to it?
Proserpina was almost tempted to ask if there’s an ice cream tub out there that never gets empty no matter how much she shovels it on her mouth but he might ended up making fun of her.
No, she decides, that’s just begging to be bullied.
“But seriously,” Dionysus began, turning to her, “…what the hell are you still moping about for? You’re looking gloomier than ever.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He beamed, “You’re welcome!”
“…I was being sarcastic.”
“Well, if you didn’t like something, get up and do something about it.”
She glared, “Well, I have no idea what to do, okay?!”
He smirked, “Ah, so it is trouble in paradise?”
“…what paradise?”
At the glint of… something… in the god of wine’s twinkling eyes, Proserpina was immediately tempted to throw herself into the shadows (but figured at the next second that she would look undignified if she actually go through it) because she was so sure she just walked in on some kind of a trap.
…Hook, line and sinker.
Waving her off, Dionysus turned to face her fully, red-rimmed eyes gleaming with manic excitement, Proserpina almost feels afraid.
He’s going to launch into a tirade, isn’t he?
“Listen here, little poppy,” oh yes, he is. Wonderful, “…communication is the key in a healthy fucking relationship. Both of you have to take part, do your thing and help each other out. Don’t let the other do all the hard work. So if you wanna make this ship go smooth sailing, you better get your ass up and meet his efforts if you don’t want to end up with a forever alone status again because that’s just plain sad… not to mention a complete waste of good genes–OW!” here, she kicked him. He scowled at her, rubbing his side, “Besides, I’ve heard that poor puppy gawk and marvel over you so much while he was smashed, it’s seriously going to make me cry if you ghosted him a second time.”
Proserpina blinks, “Wait, what?”
“…What?”
“What did you just said?”
“I don’t know kid, what the hell are you talking about?” Dionysus held her incredulous gaze, red-rimmed eyes showing no hint of what he just divulged.
She ran a hand on her face.
Making him talk was a lost cause.
“Since when do you give out love advices?”
He snorted, “Since when are you in need of one?”
“Who are you, Aphrodite?” as soon as Proserpina said it, she eyed him with a hint of suspicion… but begrudgingly gets where he’s coming from, “Since when are you a romantic?”
“Hey, I’m a natural!” he shoves her playfully, immediately pulling her right back when she nearly falls straight to the pool, laughing sheepishly, “You know what? Ask my wife, if you don’t believe me.”
Propping herself up, Proserpina glared, “…I don’t believe you.”
He feigned to push her again, pouting.
But she appreciated it, really.
While she’s still never going to touch or go anywhere near an alcoholic beverage ever again… (except for Dionysus, Alastor too probably. She’s never going to forgive alcohol for as long as she lived) still, she’s never going to deny that the god of wine was surprisingly one of the very few people capable to give her sound advice when she most needed it–even if she didn’t like how it was delivered or how he pops out of nowhere like all the others uninvited–Proserpina thinks Dionysus might be the one who understood regardless of their many, many differences.
They were both demigods before they become gods, after all. And everything that they went through to get here has never been easy.
Not like she’s going to tell him that though.
That’s just begging to be bullied.
“Dionysus… how,” she hesitates nonetheless, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment, a sigh releasing past her lips as she stared down at the water, “…how do you know if it’s worth it?”
“What is?”
“…love.”
His eyes all but sparkled, “Oh wow–”
“I’m serious,” she snaps.
“Hi serious, I’m–”
She abruptly stands up, “That’s it. I’m leaving.”
“…Do you know how I met Ariadne?”
Proserpina tilted her head to look down at him, wondering where this one is going. “You found her abandoned by… Theseus in the island of Naxos, did you not?”
He smiled, his gaze far away.
“Yup. You see, when we first met, the two of us just… clicked. We lived different lives, we didn’t even know each other very much or for long that is but from the get-go there had been a mutual understanding,” the look on his face was soft, gentle, “You see kid, when you finally found the person destined for you, that’s how you’ll know. You just know.”
When she stayed silent for a long time, the older god turned to smile at her, holding out another bottle–a cranberry juice–as if in offering, “That’s when you’ll know love’s worth risking it,”