She laughs when his fingers catch in the dip between her shoulder blades.
“What are you doing?” she asks, turning her head so she can look at him properly.
“Hmm,” he answers helpfully, brushing at another freckle with the tips of his fingers.
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Persephone says and leans her cheek on the pillow. Her hair falls to the side in a cascade of autumn russet and chestnut brown, pooling like silk in the crook of her elbow and spilling over her left side. But stars - he really has been lucky.
“I don’t mind,” he replies, absentmindedly.
“I know you don’t!” she assures him. “It’s not going to change, you know. We gods don’t age quickly.”
He leans down and presses the lightest of kisses at the base of her spine. Thank you, it says. She looks at him with understanding in her eyes. “It’s alright,” he says then, and cards a hand through her hair just to feel the strands slip between his knuckles. “That just means I’ll have more time to look.”
Persephone laughs again. She does that a lot, no matter where she is or what she‘s doing. “I bet you say that to each of your wives.”
“Yes. All one of them.”
“I knew it! Who is this woman, so that I can turn her into a convenient ornamental plant? Perhaps I’ll be lenient and only change her hair, or only her eyes, or her skin.”
“Such violence from so lovely a creature,” he says, feigning fear. “What have I married?”
She turns and catches his face in her hands, leaning in to bump her nose with his.
writing by bleu. as always.