A sneer graces his lips — he is glad for company in his hatred of Zeus, though he suspects it is mutual for many of the gods here today. He had started what he could not control, playing with fire without realizing the consequences. Zeus, zealous god he was, ached for their former glory. It was he who shared the gods with the world of the mortals once again.
This would not have been an issue if they were still respected, feared. A loving god gives no reason for mortals to play by rules — they are now seen as entertainment. This whole meeting filmed, spread around the world, mortals watching their every move. Zeus in fact had his own reality show, a vapid piece of ego fluffing trash.
The problem now was lack of structure. Before they had temples, place of worship with priests and priestesses, ready and willing to take on the prayers of the ordinary people, only gathering those most important to be taken to the gods themselves. It had been a system, but one that had withered with decay as the gods had fallen from the faith of the people. Now, a replenishment of prayers, but no one to deal with day to day matters. Gods were getting headaches, bombarded by the inane and often ridiculous prayers. Ares had seen a few minor gods stop going out, hoping a lack of representation would stop the flow of sacrifices, unwanted and ungranted.
Zeus himself seemed unbothered, though Ares suspected that was due to the temples he had made, turning their myths and temples of old into trendy places. They were much like the fake religions of the modern world, scientology coming to mind. This blasphemous capitalizing of what was once a respected religion only inflamed the issue, mortals uncaring or unthinking of any type of vengeance. Something had to change.
Hence, the forcing of Zeus to make a meeting. All gods were to have their own temples, made by mortals, or gods would answer no one. Unfortunately, Ares had his own displeasure with this, reasoning that without any real respect for the gods’ troubles the humans would not want to spend so much time and money on temples.
Zeus sits down, though only after waving to his adoring crowd, calling the summit to order. Not wanting to cause attention to himself by replying, Ares draws a vulgar and detailing drawing of Zeus on his knees, shitting onto a platter being eaten off of by a mortal.
There were times, in the good days when one could not turn a corner without crossing one temple or another, where Persephone had thought she truly hated that god who called himself father. She did; she is old enough to know now the difference between ichor-burning hatred and simmering irritation. However, then she had sworn there was no possible way to hate him more. The idea seems silly and childish now. Of course she could hate him more. She is decades old, and she feels too small, physically, to hold onto all this hatred.
How do people watch him daily and still view someone worth drooling over? It is generally accepted in this day and age that forcing oneself upon another is evil, and yet these mortals brush it aside as if more than half of his children were not products of a bedding unwanted. She’s decided that the president of his vapid little fan club will spend decades in the Fields of Punishment, along with the executive producers of Lightning God: King of Kings.
The Queen lets out a soft sigh, tinged with more disgust than a human could possibly understand, as Zeus sits down. The idea of turning him into some sort of plant still jostles around in her mind; the impending riot seems more and more appealing. Let them see that their godly king could still be taken down! Let them fear those who deserved it! Persephone remembers a time wherein her name had been forbidden from the lips of all but her priestesses; all were terrified of invoking her wrath. Today she is seen as little more than a teenage girl, playing with her garden. Her husband — just and loyal and strong — is feared, while she is brushed off.
Persephone’s scowl is not missed by the cameramen, though most have their focus on the god beneath the large golden crown. What will they spin her expression into? Persephone is displeased by the disrespect her father receives? It is as if they purposefully ignore every poisonous comment she tosses at him.
She looks down at Ares’ sketch and swallows a laugh. “That’s a political cartoon if I’ve ever seen one.”
1. This is a private blog. That means I will only roleplay with mutuals. This is just to keep me sane. Please don’ take it personally.
2. Please don’t godmod. That’s just basic rp etiquette. I might go to you and ask that you change your reply if you godmod. I might not. You should know what’s god modding and what’s not. Look it up on urban dictionary if you want.
3. I will be extremely selective with who I smut, if I smut. I am of age. Persephone is a married goddess with an active sex life; likelier than not, there will be smut reblogged. It will be tagged 💀. ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴏʀs ; ( 🌸 nsfw. ) to keep certain blogs away. That being said, there might be triggers on this blog. Persephone is a goddess, and one that is feared and for a reason. She is not afraid to spill blood. I will tag accordingly. If you need anything tagged, please tell me. I am always more than happy to do so.
4. Please don’t reblog asks with a response. Like, go ahead and reblog the ask, no problem. Just don’t add a reply while reblogging. This goes only for actual ask posts. Nowadays, since tumblr loves to fuck up the formatting in asks, I tend to answer IC questions in their own post. Feel free to continue those if you'd like!
5. I do not RP with, or follow, duplicats. This means that if you are a Persephone blog (or a multimuse with Persephone as one of those muses), I will not follow. It's a self-esteem thing. Thank you for understanding. However, if you are a Greek god multimuse, there's a nine out of ten chance I do want to write with one of your muses, and just refuse to follow because of the Persephone. Feel free to like starter calls and whatnot if this is the case.
6. Do not underestimate Persephone. She is a goddess. Unless your muse is also a god, she is stronger than your muse. I will contact you before she does something violent to your muse, that way we can drop the thread if you don't want that done to your muse. I will however, warn you what Persephone is going to do before I post the reply. While Persephone is not all-knowing, she as a goddess she has access to more information than mortals. Please let me know if this discomforts you; I am more than happy to plot something out.
7. My name is Jackee and I only bite if asked. I'm twenty-one and have been writing Persephone on and off since 2014 on another blog. I have a google doc available with a more in depth look into which verison/combination of myths I use as canon to my Persephone, as well as a longer version of my rules there if you're interested.
This verse follows the myth of Persephone and Hades, if a bit into the future. She adores both her mother and her husband, and will often slip out when she's supposed to be Above to visit her husband. When in the Underworld, she will go Above to see her mother, though not often, because she thinks Demeter will begin to suspect that she also does it during the warmer months. While her visits to the Underworld are secret for fear of her mother's wrath, as Queen of the Underworld, she is free to do what she wants, when she wants it. Persephone cares deeply for her kingdom and her subjects, but she is not afraid in any way to strike fear into them when needed. She is Iron Queen, Dread Queen.
This verse is before her kidnapping and marriage. Persephone does not exist; there is no Underworld Queen. She goes only by Kore. The goddess of spring and rebirth, but she is not yet Queen. Instead she is her mother's handmaiden, a minor goddess. She struggles with her personality, darker than what she thinks a springtime goddess should be, but has a strong control on her darker thoughts, and is careful not to voice them. She is kind, she is sweet, she is beautiful; spring in its purest form. Although Kore is a virgin, she's being courted by Apollo, Ares, Hephaestus, and Hermes, in what she considers good fun. Her closest friends are Aprhodite, Athena, and Artemis.
Though no longer as widely worshipped, Persephone is still tied to her six months both on Earth and in the Underworld. She laughs, just a bit, at all the different religions, but she will not correct them; the gods will punish them in due time, and their lack of coins between their teeth will stop them from ever reaching the Underworld, though often she feels bad for them and, as Queen of the Underworld, lets them through regardless. Those in Christian religions and extensions of it regard her as Lilith, wife to Lucifer. She is quick to correct them. In the Underworld she goes only by Persephone, and those who call her Lilith will regret it, as will those who call her husband Lucifer, Satan, or the Devil. They are gods, not demons.
Above she continues to bring spring and grow her flowers. As a goddess she is perpetually unemployed, wandering wherever she may please, though more often by her mother's side. She is unafraid to call herself both Kore and Persephone, though occasionally introduces herself as Stephanie, because the looks of shock and disbelief, one that she knows means the humans think her insane, irritates her.
The gods have come out to mortals as real. They are public figures who hold press conferences and interviews. They willingly preform miracles for fun on TV. People doubted them at first, as the world was largely christian, but after 90 years of not aging, people started to believe and pray to them and ask the questions during conferences.
This is based on a group verse from a very, very long time ago, which I am more than willing to revive if there is interest.
Some time after its beginning, the gods created mankind, and allowed the species to live upon the Earth. Epimetheus gave beauty and agility to beasts, leaving humans defenseless. Prometheus stole reason and fire from the gods, thus angering Zeus. The King of Gods punished Prometheus, chaining him to a rock. Eagles feasted upon Prometheus’ liver, and since Prometheus was a god, it continued to regrow in an endless, painful punishment. He would only be freed if Prometheus, God of Forethought, revealed to Zeus which of his children would overthrow him.
Prometheus did not speak, though eventually Zeus’ demigod son, Hercules, freed him from his pain. The god knew, of course, knew who would overthrow the King. Most assumed it would be Ares, God of War. Still, since Prometheus would not say, the subject soon died. Zeus ruled; he had children and often forgot them. If he did not forget them, they were underestimated. Truly, who would have guessed that Goddess of Spring, of chirping birds and blossoming flowers, forgotten wayward child, would be the one to ignite a rebellion? Who would have guessed that Hades, freed by his younger brother, would follow his wife’s rage-fueled words?
Hades, cast to the darkness of the Underworld. Persephone, underestimated and forgotten. Rulers of the Dead. Too lightly taken, too easily forgotten. Respected by those who knew their true power, ignored and disrespected by those Zeus’ kingdom. With the power of their dead and the gods who lived Underworld. They raged war, and won.
Hades: King of Gods and of the Dead. Persephone: Queen of Gods and of the Dead. Zeus: Chained as he had Prometheus.
Mother, he touches me as if I am
the silver over which he rules.
Mother, he stares at me as if I am,
more fearsome than all the creatures,
in his kingdom.
Mother, he worships me as if I am the,
only goddess he knows.
Mother, he holds me as if I am fragile,
but kisses me as if I am stronger than,
Atlas himself.
Mother, his eyes are precious stones,
I fear they’re worth more than all my,
flowers Above.
Mother, his rare smile shines brighter,
than Apollo’s sun.
Mother, he tells me I am a queen and,
places a crown of flowers and iron and,
bones upon my head.
Mother, his laughter is water and I am,
the thirstiest I have ever been.
Mother, his touch is golden and I am,
rich.
Mother, his anger shakes our kingdom,
whole and thrills my very bones.
Mother, he tells me rage is natural and,
takes me to his Fields of Punishment to,
scream it away.
Mother, he’s shown me even the dead,
can bleed and given me control of,
justice.
Mother, he’s watched me rip limbs from,
the dead and kissed the blood from my,
fingers and still found me beautiful.
Mother, his skin is ice and I am melting it.,
Mother, he is a maze and I have lost,
myself in him.
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