(ACT O1) The Grim Reaper's Shadow

PROSERPINA:

Proserpina—who had been following her prey since last night—grew increasingly perplexed when the lives Thanatos was specifically tasked to take for the meantime had led her closer to what sounded like the midst of a battlefield, one that was echoing with roars and curses that would have surely amused the god of wine.

When the young goddess finally came upon the open field, though choosing not to physically emerge from the shadows just yet to observe–

She tilted her head to the side, long plaited dark hair dangling over one shoulder aimlessly, her equally dark eyes staring curiously as she beheld the men that moved and fought like the spawns of Ares but are... are they actually playing some sort of violent sport?

The cold breath of storm-bringing Notos whipped along the muddy field, creating a faint, white mist while lightning flashed above them from time to time. Large raindrops struck the ground, mirroring the intensity of the still on-going game that had her suppressing a shudder at the sheer violence happening before her very eyes. Oh Hades, what on earth had Proserpina stumbled upon now—a secret training camp of soldiers? Spawns of Ares?

No.

There are only three demigods left in this world (excluding her, she no longer counted–) that were… permitted to live after the Righteous Purge several years ago: Nicholas Cayden, son of Athena. Rei Kashima, son of Hypnos.

And–

‘Let's not go there.’

Proserpina forced herself to focus back on the game instead, gripping her sword's handle as she quietly tried to stamp down the sudden surge of fury and compose herself.

As she appraised the players and the spectators to distract herself, Proserpina easily recognized that the souls of the players are werewolves while on the sidelines, various nymphs ranging from aurai to Bacchic nymphs who are all visibly trembling with excitement and barely hidden lust as they watched and cheered, most likely seeing the spectacle as no more than a mud-wrestling match between a bunch of strong men instead of a barbaric brawl.

Proserpina resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the nymphs laughed and wolf-whistled, screeching cheers of encouragement, already annoyed by their crude behavior… and I just got here not even a minute ago.

Thanatos, sensing her irritation, murmured:

‘Ignore them.’

Sighing, she slowly unsheathed the blade as she finally stepped out of the shadows, her body reforming just as easily. She is completely unbothered by the rain soaking her clothes and hair as she locked eyes on her prey, mingling amongst the nymphs, clapping, and cheering:

...an empousa.

This empousa, like the rest of its sisters that Proserpina had slain, looked like an attractive female but with flaming red hair and with one brass leg and the other one a donkey leg.

To be honest, there is no need for them to be dealt with personally… however; these fools had been reported by the hunters of Artemis stalking her mercenaries to feed on and while Proserpina would normally not be allowed to intervene in the mortals' affairs even if she was inclined to do so since her younger brother was a hunter tasked to take down monsters as well.

Fortunately for her—and unfortunately for them, William's demigod friend, Nicholas, had specifically requested for her assistance to dispose these empousai before they killed more of the other mercenaries which is the most likely the only reason why Hades had allowed her to be here in the first place.

She is responsible for their safety, after all.

Proserpina had so wanted to bring William with her (for old time's sake, of course) but the hunters of Artemis had been strongly against the idea since the natural prey of empousai are young men.

“That’s cheating!”

She nearly flinched at the impact from that one, when one of the tallest players suddenly leapt and tackled his opponent (wait… was that even allowed?), sending them both crashing to the ground. Again, she reminded herself that she shouldn’t be surprised. Werewolves are known to be ferocious beings, after all.

Still, she found herself staring, completely transfixed, as the brown-haired werewolf dug the other's face to the dirt, her gaze on his smirk.

…curious.

No matter how much Proserpina was the butt of jokes and teased to be an ‘asexual plant’ (courtesy of William), she was still capable of acknowledging attractive people especially when she sees one… and that particular werewolf does have a pleasant face in a roguish, boyish kind of way that somehow made her think of Eros in the height of his work, especially during June weddings. Or around his beloved Psyche.

Whichever works.

And as the players continued to duke it all out like rambunctious children left unattended on a playground, she couldn't help but appreciate the raw power in that particular werewolf’s towering frame, his speed and agility was astounding, even to her and she is a goddess.

How… fascinating.

He had a Mediterranean complexion… which now had some mud and dirt plastered across his muscular, bare chest and shoulders, there was also a shadow of a beard over his face which had some blood and dirt splattered like paint on his cheeks too.

Still, despite the mess, she still found him to be boyishly attractive, liberated in ways that she’ll never be. Like an unattainable dream.

Never mind her distance from him, she can practically sense anger, no matter how restrained, radiating from his very being. His vivid brown eyes the color of dark chocolates as he glared down at the other werewolf who's nose he had flattened to the muddy ground.

As though sensing the fight between them was actually serious, the game was immediately put into pause, some of the other players breaking the two up while the remaining players began to surround them in a circle as they were being drawn back from each other before the two decided to actually duke it out… although one of the werewolves was grinning and cheering too loudly at the commotion while the other looked seemingly exasperated as he stood by and watched with arms crossed, as though their friend had been picking fights every minute.

Probably, she decided.

Proserpina did not interact with their kind much (there was no need to unless someone is dying) but the hunters of Artemis, despite serving the same goddess, considered the werewolves to be savage beasts with little control over their innate ferocity, especially on the night of a full moon where they can turn into their wolf form or being in the presence of their mate for the first time.

Seeing them up close though, she was inclined to agree... the werewolves seemed to revel in the heat of a battle. No better than Ares, really. Loud and brutish that he is, still, she found herself completely amused by that particular one’s antics, allowing herself several more moments to watch for a moment.

She wanted to see what he will do next.

“You are going to pay for that, Nyx!”

‘…What are you doing?’

Oops.

Proserpina reluctantly dragged her gaze away from the werewolves and surveyed the nymphs still cheering on the sidelines, immediately focusing on the empousa once more—her eyes narrowed—who was staring intently at her wolf.

‘Your wolf?’

Pointedly ignoring death's soft laughter ringing inside her head, Proserpina forced herself to focus back on the mission at hand, which is dispatching the empousa... who was still mingling amongst the nymph spectators, arrogantly assuming that it was safe and well-hidden in this crowd on plain sight.

Proserpina absentmindedly twirled the sword and savored the comforting weight that was the god of death sealed within her weapon, the shadows around her feet pulsing and writhing in glee and anticipation for the thrill of a kill.