(ACT 01) Death is not amused

PROSERPINA:

The corpse of the beheaded empousa fell straight to the ground with a sinister thud, limbs splayed in awkward angles like a macabre piece of artwork, its head rolling to the side a second after, some of its blood splattering around the grass which was quickly being washed by the rain.

A beat after, Proserpina manifested to the ground in a low crouch, right next to her kill, ignoring the blood on her shoes. ‘Someone's watching,' she slowly turned to look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed… right into the direction where she last sensed him.

‘Your werewolf…’

Frowning, she peered deeper into the shadows and almost reeled back when vivid, dark brown eyes stared right back at her. “Why are you following me?” Proserpina demanded.

‘A man had made you the object of their interest once more…’ Thanatos commented, sounding far too amused for her liking, ‘…never a good thing.’

The werewolf moved closer to where she is, completely ignoring the natural path, heading directly towards her, causing the shadows on the ground to darken, and burst at her feet, flaring to life, and moving agitatedly like whips.

Her shadows were a silent warning for him not to come any closer. It was supposed to be an act of intimidation but much to her annoyance, the werewolf seemed impressed.

“How could I not follow a woman as beautiful as you?” the werewolf asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, his voice husky. The dirt had been washed clean from his skin, showing off his still-bare chest and torso and all the strong planes that was his handsome face.

Seeing him up close, Proserpina mentally congratulated herself for being right: he did have a Mediterranean complexion and he does have eyes the color of dark chocolate, her favorite sweets. His lashes were long, thick, and curled in an artful way that a lot of girls would surely envy and hate him for having eyelashes that long.

Huh, Proserpina blinked as she stared for a moment. She hadn't noticed that back then. And now she did, it kind of hurt to look away.

His intense gaze met her own for a few more moments before the werewolf slowly took in every feature of her face as though he was memorizing every single detail... or searching for something in her eyes—making Proserpina a bit self-conscious then panicky for a split-second, had he seen her staring at him earlier? — and she tried so hard not to shift and fidget in front of him like a guilty child.

But no, there wasn't a hint of judgment or mockery within those eyes. The way the werewolf looked at her was actually kind of flattering... as if she was a normal woman and not a feared goddess of the underworld. He looked at her as though she was simply beautiful.

Proserpina blinked.

And the sudden sense of awareness immediately flowed through every single nerve when his gaze slowly wandered to her body and inaudibly swallowed, licking his lips, clearly liking what he saw.

Something in her bristled in offense.

‘Enough–’

“State your name.”

He grinned broadly, appearing absurdly pleased at the chance of having to introduce himself, “Alastor Nyx… of the Northern Pack.”

Proserpina raised an eyebrow at that.

How curious… his name. Alastor Nyx is Ancient Greek that literally means avenger of the night, if translated in this era’s typical-tongue.

What an oddly fitting name...

“...but you can call me Al,” the werewolf offered with an equally cheeky wink as he drew nearer despite the steadily darkening shadows whipping violently around her.

Proserpina wordlessly moved away right when his feet was about to step into one of her many agitated shadows, not daring to keep her back turned away from him, her eyes never leaving his as they slowly began circling each other.

“You know... I have never seen anyone fight like you before,” Alastor carried on, his tone still bright and conversational despite her silence.

‘That never gets old…’

“Oh? Never saw a goddess before?” Proserpina retorted coldly, waiting for the inevitable fear to show in his eyes.

But to her shock and satisfaction, his eyes simply glowed knowingly. “Not really, no…” Alastor admitted, hands in his pockets as he swayed on the balls of his feet, “…but even for a goddess, what kind of devil did you make a deal with to have a kind of power like that?”

Proserpina almost took a step back from him. Which one? Both had done something entirely different to me.

Her jaw clenched as the memories on Roman's dungeon began to play right before her eyes as vivid as the night it happened, the desecration, the screams, her father's underground temple, dying, her body being burned–

Y̛̠̮̱͍͍̖̱̚ö̸͎͖̩̠͎̅ͣͮư̲̹͔̄̒ ̷̟͉̦͚̰̑a̢͖̰ͭ̈̃͒r̻̞̥̫͈͙̪̮͒͝e̮̩͇͖̣̭͆ͦ̋͠ͅ ̵̝͓́͒̃̎ṉ̫̬͈͕̜̬̱̋̀͑͡o͓̘̭͒͘ț̟̭͚͉̗̣͕ͬͪ̋͛͘h̷͕̱̬̔̃̾i̴̜͙ͫ͛n͍̟̼̞ͥ͘ǧ̣̙̭̮̬͉̲͍̑̇ͨ̀ ̝͇̗͋̓̋́m̰͕͙͎̹͒́̕o̦̲͌͛ͤͨ̕ř̰͓̖͐̆͟e̳̗̥̰̠̝ͪ̓̕ ̤̖̗͇̟̘̦͎̈ͧ̇̕t͕̱̱̠ͪͥ́̚͜h̨̪̳̠̎a̻̫͛ͬͦ͘nͪͥ̓̚͏͕̘͕͉̥͕ ̖̘̬̼͈͔̯̘͑̚͜w̸̳̬͔̞̲̽ͫͪ̊hͨ͏̳͔͕̺͉̹͙ͅȉ̧̯͇͍̬͍̥̉c̶͎̮͈̱͍̱̙ͨͣ̓̓h͖̮̤̖̺͔̭̜ͦ̊͜ ̨̜̙̘̰̑y̖͍͒͌ͨ̂͟ö̸̰̱̦̗̟̗̮́ͯu̶͇̫̳̹͚̗̹̬͐ ̙̹͂ͦ̀ŗ̘̝̬̼̰͎̞̟ͮ̍͐ù̠͓͖̝̚l͈̼ͥͯͭ͝ë̶͓̘̰̭̫̬͇̙́̀d̨̰̤͆̎̋.̧̘̬̫̣̑

…but his voice, clear and light snapped her out of it.

“Is your sword magical?”

‘What?’

What?

She blinked, completely taken aback, “What,”

Thanatos all but screamed there and then, making her internally wince as the feeling of outrage that was definitely not her’s flared up, ‘…did he seriously just called me a–?!’

When she registered what Alastor just asked, Proserpina very nearly bursted out laughing at the innocent question despite the sudden flare of annoyance— ‘why are you laughing? Don’t laugh–’ she felt from the god of death still in her hands.

A barely visible smile painted her lips.

“Careful there,” Proserpina managed to tell him without laughing, still terribly amused, “...Thanatos has taken lives for less.”

Indeed, Thanatos (the god of death, her father's right hand–) had been delegated as her personal weapon on the night she was named as heir of the underworld in order to keep her soul bound and the former to split his immortality with the relatively new goddess.

The god of death's vessel was a black sword with a polished blade, the hilt engraved with the name of Thanatos through Proserpina's human dried blood, binding death to her in perpetuity…

Alastor whistled, impressed.

She scoffed, “What, you actually thought of me to be weak?”

“Never… but for you to have such impressive talent and a beauty of your caliber as well,” Alastor asked, sending her a conspiratorial smile, “Hardly fair to other beings, don't you think?”

Luckily for them, Proserpina had no interest indulging on anyone's attention, let alone her own vanity. Her father had made sure of it ten years ago; and if not that… well, one of the many unspoken reasons why Thanatos was with her.

For the time being…

Or so Hades said.

When she did not deign for a response, Alastor's playful expression began to turn serious, “Are you really Proserpina?” Goddess of the shadows, heir to the underworld–keeper of death…

“...I am.”

‘At least he did not mistake you for a nymph like Apollo once did,’ Thanatos grumbled, apparently still miffed by the ‘magical sword’ comment.

As usual, she ignored him.

“...I would normally say that you're such an enchanting goddess but that would be an understatement. Your incredible prowess is beyond that of your kind,” the werewolf muttered, eyeing her from head to toe with clear relish.

This moron… should not let the other gods hear him say that. They would surely throw a fit for such an ‘insult’ and hell will break loose.

Figuratively, of course.

This time, Proserpina actually rolled her eyes at the thought, “Oh please, do spare me the flattery. It will get you nowhere.”

“I'm not flattering you if it's the truth,” Alastor told her simply with a careless shrug, “Although... I'm kind of worried it will not be as easy as that.”

Easy? “What are you talking about?”

Alastor opened his mouth, and then closed it again, looking over at her in a curious way which made her eyes narrow suspiciously. Suddenly, Proserpina had a strange feeling that whatever Alastor had been about to tell her—for some reason—he had decided against it, instead:

“Seduction,” Alastor finally answers, a knowing smile creeping on his lips, “I heard rumors that the goddess Proserpina was said to be notoriously difficult to seduce.”