tectonic2

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<center>[[START STORY|1]]</center>

there is no green in hades. there are reds and blues and purples, but no greens. you think it’s because the lord of hades would like nothing to remind him of your mother,             of the calendar,                         of the compromise that wrested you from his grasp, split your existence                   between two worlds. the lord himself is watching you. he is not here in person, but there’s no place here that his eyes can’t see. all your actions have a voyeur. you miss empty green fields, nymphs and sunlight. you miss your mother’s soft hands, weaving lilies into your hair. [[the lord only cares about winning, about power, about strength.|strength]] [[the lord seems to care about you.|care]]

the lord cares about you. he finds you childish, perhaps, but he grew a field of rubies to imitate the red roses you adore. his pet spends more time with you than it does him. hades seems softer than it was when you first came here. the jagged rocks seem mellowed down to rough paths. [[but you can never forgive him the crime of separation.|no]] [[you think you could grow to care for him.|ye]]

the lord cares about winning, about power, about strength. the lord cares that he has proven to everyone that he can take what he wants. the lord cares that he has a trophy, a pretty nymph that can do tricks for him. you blame your mother, sometimes, for not fighting for you. you weren’t even allowed to argue your case, left behind by the lord in your room, anxiously waiting for a stranger– your father– to decide your fate. maybe if your mother had done better, loved you more, fought harder– maybe you wouldn’t be the single shred of light in a desolate land. but none of that matters now, because you are where you are. half your life will be spent as a plucked flower. but you are more than that, you hope. [[you are kore.|kore]] [[you are persephone.|per]]

you are persephone. you have a mother who can’t look you in the eye, a husband who looks right over you. you are the whisper of life in a world of death, the      pulse      of resilience in the heart of despair. your powers are forever touched by those of hades– the flowers you grow have more   thorns   than petals. you find you do not much [[mind|start]].

you are kore. you have a mother, who     froze    the rivers with her grief and     withered     the crops with her anger. you are the eternal spring. you are the promise of life after a dreary winter, the recovery after death. you will coax the flowers to grow, and your powers will grow with them. you will stay quiet as long as you have to, and then you shall [[scream.|start]]

but you can never forgive him the crime of separation. you are the queen of the    dead,    with a beating      heart.      the shades of the dead look at you with longing, with pity. you can only look back with         [[anger|start]].

you think you could grow to care for him. he gives you a     crown,     a new name. from cloaks to wine to soft smiles, you think you could carve a heart out of this stone [[yet|start]].