29 Days of Smut 2016
Dec. 21st, 2015 05:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aftanithA self-imposed challenge of my own creation, running from February 1, 2016 to February 29, 2016. I only plan to start these stories (producing around a thousand words for each), not to finish them within the month.
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The Rape of Persephone [3/?]
Date: 2016-03-06 09:43 am (UTC)"Though, Sparrow--a word of caution before you go." Sparrow froze mid-step and turned back to look at him. The words didn't bode well, and Sparrow waited anxiously for him to continue. "None of us do anything without a reason. Not me, not your father, and, if you've any sense at all, not you, either. Be careful."
Wide-eyed and suddenly frightened, Sparrow nodded, thanked him, and fled.
So far, this was not at all going the way Sparrow had intended. Her meeting with her uncle--one of them, at least--had been cut short, put to an end by the mere mention of her father, and yet Idris had suggested she continue on with her plan. He had advised her to seek out the final brother, to go to Frost and introduce herself; what difference that would make to Idris, Sparrow couldn't guess any more than she could fathom the reasoning behind the slew of odd questions with which he had assaulted her. But she would obey this order, if no others; she still wished to meet her uncles, both of them, and perhaps meeting Frost would go at least better than her meeting with Idris had gone.
While Sparrow had found it surprisingly simple to slip past Idris' retinue of servants and guards, it was even easier to reach Frost's rooms. She went entirely unimpeded down the halls, and by the time she reached the door to his temporary home within their ancestral abode, she had begun to suspect that this was because he had none in the first place. It was an odd thought, a god with no attendants, but unless they were all, down to the very last one, busy in parts unknown, it certainly seemed to be the case. She wondered if she should pity the man... or envy his freedom and quiet.
With a wariness in her mind that she hadn't harbored before Idris' ominous words, Sparrow knocked on the chamber door and waited.
It was only after she knocked a second time--and then a third--that someone finally opened the door. She had been on the verge of giving up, moments away from turning on her heels and sulking back along the path to her own rooms, when the door opened and she found herself face-to-face with the second of the men she'd been so desperate to meet.
He looked more surprised to see her than she was to see him, and she was quite surprised to see him (as she had, after all, nearly given up on the idea that she would). After a moment of silent stares, he stepped away from the door and gestured for her to enter. She did, but with more caution than she would've liked. Idris' mysterious warning still burned in her mind, and she knew not what to make of it; whether it would matter to her now, she was unsure.
"Sparrow?" he asked once the door had closed behind her. He stood several feet away from where she was at the center of the room, appraising him as he did the same to her. He wore the visage of a slightly older man, just as her father did, fair-skinned and blue-eyed. The only significant sign of visible age on him, however, was the shocking silver-white of his hair, but the color reminded her of not the gray hair of an aged mortal but of cold and ice and winter, and Sparrow shivered involuntarily as her gaze flickered back to meet his.
"Yes."
"Why are you here?"
She bristled in her displeasure. Why could none of them merely be pleased to meet her? Why must they continue to demand to know her every reason? Why, indeed, should she even need a reason to meet her family?
And that, in turn, was the answer she decided to give. "I wished to meet my family. Father--"
"Didn't want you to," he interrupted, finishing the thought for her, and she clamped her jaw shut, displeasure growing by the moment. Perhaps this had all been a mistake after all.
"No."
The man gave her a wry smile that she didn't quite understand. There was nothing amusing about this; quite the opposite, she was finding. "I suppose he's afraid someone might whisk you away before he's had a chance to stake his claim?"
Sparrow blinked, startled. The assertion was outrageous, and for a moment, she didn't know where to even begin refuting it. "Excuse me?" was all she could muster, and Frost has the audacity to laugh.