Dionysus: Putting the bro back in amBROsia!

I'm not really sure who to blame for this, but somehow I've come up with yet another girl's adventures in Deadland! Woohoo!

In this story, Persephone crashes a party thrown by Dionysus, steals his booze and has a one-person party out in some random field. When she runs out she goes a-frolickin' and Hades finds her. Thinking he'll be a good guy and let her crash at his place for the night (she is obviously Not Well), he takes her down to the Underworld.

NOTE: This is obviously the product of Too Much Ke$ha.

ALSO NOTE: Those who drink the waters of Lethe forget all.

--

When she awoke, she thought for sure Artemis had actually shot her in the head. She groaned and curled into herself, the blankets twisting around her waist.

Persephone didn’t remember how she had gotten home, but she had a massive headache and her whole body ached and her mouth felt like sand and her feet were freezing. The first three problems were the usual symptoms of a bacchanal gone awry, but why would mother let the warmth of spring wane like that? Was it some sick form of corporal punishment?

She spent a few hours wallowing in self pity and the strange bed she was fairy sure wasn’t her own. The headache marginally subsided and she dared to force her eyes open. They were crusted over and she flicked the dry goo away.

The room was dark, thank Zeus. The walls and floor were smooth, polished stone. It was all continuous, without the ordered cracks of tiles. There was no furniture besides the bed she was sprawled across.

She laid staring at the ceiling and wondered if she was hallucinating. This seemed probable. She had partaken of Dionysus’s personal store, after all.

She was thirsty. She imagined a glass of sweet, cool ambrosia and wondered why her hallucinated room didn’t provide her with it immediately.

She wondered if her hallucination came with servants to bring her water at the least. She opened her mouth to call, but it was so dry she felt as if the action opened cracks down her throat.

Wincing, she managed to roll her body off the bed and stand unsteadily. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders (why was it so cold?) and reassessed the room with blurry eyes. Nope, still no imagined glass of delicious ambrosia.

She found a door (it had probably been there the whole time, she thought in hindsight) and staggered into an equally dimly lit hallway. Still no magically appearing glasses of ambrosia.

She wandered around the hall until she found another door which led to a large, empty room. This one had a window, although the landscape outside was only slightly brighter than inside. She climbed (fell) out the window and her bare feet (and knees and palms) met soft, black glass.

This was definitely the most gothic hallucination she’d ever had.

She thought maybe the servants were outside milking to cows (because what else would they be doing?), and milk would make her not thirsty, so she continued to walk. She thought she saw people in the distance, so she walked toward them, forgot there were there, and veered directions.

Eventually, feeling only slightly more lucid, she found a river.

Persephone was beginning to suspect that she wasn’t navigating a hallucination but rather an actual, bizarre place. Still, she was incredibly thirsty and there was water right here. She knelt down and cupped her hands. She took a sip.

It was unbearably satisfying. She bent further and put her face to the water, drinking freely. Yes, it was too satisfying to be a deranged figment of her imagination. When her throat stopped feeling like it was coated in salt, she should go and… and…

She was still sore. And tired. And she should really… she should…

She should lay down and take a nap. The grass was soft.

--

“She drank WHAT?” Hades bellowed.

The servant boy was graveling impressively. He was on his knees with forehead pressed to the floor. The poor kid was new.

“We– we found her by the River Lethe,” the boy squeaked into the stone floor.

“And who was watching her when she did this?” Hades demanded. The boy flinched and mumbled something. “Speak up,” Hades snapped.

The boy lifted his head. “I don’t know,” he said.

Hades let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples.

“And you’re sure she drank from it?”

“She doesn’t even remember her name.”

Hades slowly sank into his throne. Great, just great. There wasn’t a curse in Greece strong enough for this situation.

“You can get up now,” he told the boy and dismissed him.