February Open Prompts/Catch-all

[pummelgranite]

WHO: Persephone vs everyone
WHERE: various cities
WHEN: through February
WHAT: A few prompts, please poke me if you want something else
WARNINGS: discussion of violence/depression/disordered eating likely as always

A. Nona- A Strange Performance in a Tiny Jazz Club

[ It's not her typical venue, not by a long shot. It's a small space, with a simple stage. She even lets them use their own lights instead of miracling up herself something more impressive. There's no dance floor, and they hardly advertised for her at all. It's more a jazz club than anything else, too small for her sound, really. But that's alright. She's not here to perform her normal mass.

She isn't in high heels, or armor, or war paint. Rather, she comes out in a simple black dress and veil, ornamented with white flowers. What she sings is no persistent climax. The rage and defiance and violence usually typical of her songs is missing as well. Instead, it's something bittersweet and heart-wrenching. It's like an intimate aria sung in that same untranslatable language, but the message is clear: winter will always fade, spring will always come, but there are still so many things lost that can never return. Just because spring is coming, does not mean you will live to see it.

The piano and cello duet that follow her aren't bad either. After her performance, it might seem like anyone else would pale in comparison, but if anything the opposite is true- they, too, sound breathtakingly beautiful in the space that she's blessed. The goddess herself makes her way to the bar. Her normal companions seem absent, and most of the patrons don't dare to make eye contact, let alone approach. Do you? ]


B. The Hotel Castille lounge/lobby, evening

[ Persephone WAS at the bar. But now she's in the beautiful, glittering lobby. She is sprawled in a chair that looks like it cost several normal human's paychecks, in a way quite disrespectful to the quality of the upholstery. Her feet dangle over the back, and her head hangs towards the floor. There's a soft cloud of colorful hair beneath her. In her hands is a notebook, and in her mouth is a pen. Every once in a while she takes the pen out of her mouth to jot something into the notebook, but mostly she's just chewing on the pen.


C. Maurtia Falls Art Museum, reasonable business hours

[ If one were to happen into the museum that day, it would be hard not to miss her. She parks herself on a bench in front of a particular piece of art, and doesn't move for over an hour.

The art in question is probably no surprise- it's a Renaissance work by a not-so-terribly-famous artist, depicting Orpheus playing for Hades and his queen. There are headphones in her ears, and the only sign she gives that she's not a statue herself is pulling out her phone every so often to change her music. ]


D. South Maurtia Historic Cemetery - literally any time you'd like, day or night

[ What the fuck is she doing now? Is she sleeping on a grave? It's a single grave in a family plot, but the headstones are all so old that the names have long since faded. So... yeah. Sleeping on someone's grave. Cool, cool, cool, cool, normal. ]

Comments

[pummelgranite]

[ She moves almost impossibly slow and careful, like shes habdling something made or spun glass. If the bird doesn't move, she'll softly stroke his breast feathers. ]

[dendarii]

[ She can likely feel his tiny heart fluttering under her fingertips. When she doesn't reach out to wring his neck or otherwise harm him, it slows slightly. The petting is... kind of nice? It is nice. If it weren't Persephone it'd be downright relaxing.

He lets his eyes close after a moment. And a soft little trill of contentment escapes him. Stupid bird brain really enjoys having its feathers scritched. He's completely soft and downy, more like a songbird than a falcon. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Its a strange and bittersweet sort of satisfaction, feeling the bird's heart settle. She's soother it, sure, but only because such a simple creature surely can't understand what a cruel and dangerous being it's approached.

But it's nice, its calming for her as well, so she continues the sketches. ]

Not very smart either, are you?

[dendarii]

[ A faint little huff from the bird. And before he can think to stop himself, he says: ]

Smarter than any other bird you're going to meet.

[ But apparently not smart enough to keep his mouth shut. His voice is, at least, very difficult to recognize as Miles'. Thinner, reedier, with most of his Barrayaran accent muted by the chirrupy undertones to his voice. ]

[pummelgranite]

Wh-


[ She startles back, snatching her hand away. Then the accusation comes, scandalized: ]


You're a fucking imPort!?

[dendarii]

[ Shit. He doesn't so much flutter to the ground as collide bodily with it. ]

N-no! No, I'm not.

[ That was an even stupider thing to say, probably. But everyone else he'd pulled this with had assumed he was just a talking bird. ]

[pummelgranite]

Uh yeah, you are.

[dendarii]

[ He scrabbles back up onto his talons, wings still fluttering wildly. ]

I'm a pet. He made me this way, don't blame me.

[pummelgranite]

[ She snorts. ]

Bull. Shit. Who did?

[dendarii]

[ Someone here. Someone he can instantly corroborate a lie with. Someone that won't give away his identity -- ]

Gregor. Gregor did.

[ Nailed it. ]

[pummelgranite]

. . . I have no idea who that is, but that thing obviously has a brain the size of a pea.

[dendarii]

[ Close enough. He's suddenly quite glad that Gregor and Persephone never met. ]

Don't ask me how. I don't remember what it's like to be a normal bird. Just him staring at me.

[pummelgranite]

Nuh uh. Nope. Just admit you're a creepy imPort who likes creeping on people.

[dendarii]

[ Nope. If he admits that, he's dead. Super dead. ]

Creeping on what, exactly. I was trying to eat breakfast.

[pummelgranite]

You know what I mean! Doing your cute, helpless little bird routine! I can't believe I skritched your feathers.

[dendarii]

It's not a routine.

[ He just sounds baffled and annoyed now. ]

You're the one who saved me, anyway.

[pummelgranite]

Uh huh.



. . . fine. If you're a real bird, prove it.

[dendarii]

[ How the hell does he prove that? By doing something feral and disgusting, probably?

A moment's pause while he thinks, and then he flutters up into the air in the blink of an eye. He has an idea ... ah, there we go. He zooms back down after a moment, talons clasped around a giant grasshopper that really shouldn't be here around this time of year. And then he puts his head down and starts to tear into it viciously. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ She is not sure what she expected, but that is objectively adorable. ]

[dendarii]

[ Excuse you he is a fierce hunter!! And legitimately just a bit proud of himself. Adorable nor not, hunting for grasshoppers is tricky.

He nudges the grasshopper head at her after he's done eviscerating the body. ]

Well? I'd like to see a human catch one of those.

[pummelgranite]

Yeah, alright.

[ Mmmmaybe she believes him. ]

[dendarii]

[ Good enough for now. And his bird brain is very pleased with his grasshopper kill. ]

What are you doing here, anyway?

[pummelgranite]

[ She rummages through her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. ]


Same thing anyone does in a cemetery. Resting in peace.

[dendarii]

[ It is very quiet here. Miles flutters to the back of the gravestone for the grave she's lying on top of. ]

I thought all you humans were busy. Running around all the time.

[pummelgranite]

[ She clicks her fingers to light the smoke. ]

Surprise, I'm not human.