🌸 The Act of Bathing

6LS3 - In which we meet Persephone, a.k.a. Kore, the Bringer of Blossomtime

Last time on 6 LITTLE SEEDS:
—Fingertip Stroking:

Demeter’s eyes narrowed at the young god standing so boldly before her. “Save all your honeyed words and your fingertip stroking, APOLLON.” The sharp invocation of his formal name brought his gaze snapping up to meet hers. “We are not here to discuss your mother’s worth, but yours. Prove it, and I shall grant you union with my daughter for her protection. But she will never be ‘yours,’ a possession to flaunt and dominate. Should you try to yoke her, I swear to Nemesis, I vow upon the Styx, you will wish you had instead bound yourself to the flaming wheel of Tartaros.”

Apollo buried his glower in a deep bow. “Great Lady, I would never be so foolish as to provoke your wrath.”

Earth Mother’s eyes flashed like a spark upon parched wheat as she smirked. “I wasn’t referring to mine.”

—Start at the beginning
—Mature Content Warnings for this series

Also. Nobody calls Persephone by her true name. They call her KORE, “the Maiden,” and it’s pronounced like “ko-ray” or “kora” not like “core of the planet.”

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The Maiden

KORE, BRINGER OF BLOSSOMTIME

✨🌸✨

At last!

Solitude.

Her friends had departed, and her mother had kissed her farewell before taking a meeting on the outskirts of the Protected Grove. Mortals could not find the place, and immortals could only enter with Earth Mother’s invitation, which suited Kore’s designs perfectly.

Last moon, she had discovered a whole new joy in the act of bathing. This joy could only be fully experienced after shedding her clothing. More and more often, it was the state she preferred to assume. Unfortunately, more and more often, her mother expected her to shroud herself in long chitons, veils, and cloaks, sometimes even when it was only the two of them here at home with the handmaidens. So cumbersome. Such formal, matronly restriction.

But Kore wasn’t a matron. Not yet.

If left to her own devices, she would have followed in her sisters’ footprints, creeping and springing everywhere in her short, sleeveless tunic for all time.

The diaphanous garment only hung to her knees from the thistle brooches at her shoulders. She and her mother had woven the cloth from honeysuckle pollen, a touch of moonlight, and the exotic fibers of a plant that came from faraway lands. “Cornsilk” Demeter called it, and the fragrant chiton was heavenly to wear. So much easier for prancing and bounding, for twirling and whirling, and especially for swimming.

But Earth Mother had said Kore was becoming too old for such a maidenly garment. Artemis was only a couple years younger, and Athene was older than both of them, yet nobody ever grumbled about how they dressed because they had sworn vows of eternal chastity.

Not the Bringer of Blossomtime. Gods, demigods, and even a few outrageously brave mortals had begun vying for her hand in marriage, begging Demeter for an audience. Kore wouldn’t have given half a fig for their attention, for she knew which god was destined to be her husband.

That thought only made her want to strip off her clothing and lounge, not pile on more layers.

Lately, she longed for nothing but the warmth of sunlight upon her bare skin—something only appropriate for bathing time. As she slid into the pool, even the tattoos she had whimsically doodled upon her skin seemed too weighty. She let them wash them away as she sank under the surface, then emerged, shiny-clean, wearing only her golden aura.

The caress of water was even sleeker than her silks, and intoxicating. She had purified her divine visage in this spring-fed pool for centuries, but something in the water had changed. She swayed and wafted, if only to feel the ripples against her body. The rose-gold tresses of her hair floated all around her. As she moved, they brushed her arms, back, belly...

Her breasts.

No one was here to witness her rapid inhalation when a drifting lock trailed across a nipple. She moved her legs like those of a frog just to feel the water stroke her thighs. And if she dared...

She sat up, certain she had heard a noise in the forest, but no. Her mother’s vibration was still far, far off. All the creatures continued about their natural business, so she took one more surreptitious glance around. The gold in Kore’s leaf-green eyes gave an anticipatory pulse that reflected off the pool’s surface. Finding herself still alone, she swam toward the shore where delicate fronds undulated beneath the surface. Moving in their rhythm, she let them touch her.

There.

And why shouldn’t she? She was a goddess in her element. Countless eyes observed her, yet they paid her no heed. Yes...yes, she was simply a fertility goddess, going about her natural business as well.

With every sway back and every sway forth, the warmth in her belly grew. Intensified. The heat spread outward, down her legs and up her spine until the heart of the wildfire swelled into blue and violet combustion. A low moan escaped her—she stifled it. Her mother would be horrified, possibly furious, and nobody ever wanted to see that.

Since her youngest years, Demeter had explained the intricacies of the life spark a goddess carried within her. But mating was not to be undertaken frivolously. Not for one of their lineage and power. This sacred rite was something to be celebrated only with the god whose life-thread had been spun intertwined with hers—her husband. As such, a proper maiden was expected to remain modest and wholesome, never inviting the wrong sorts of attention with her demeanor, her dress, or her conduct.

Yet Kore couldn’t see the harm in this. None at all. She was just practicing for the day when she would become a wife and conceive her own children.

Yes! Yes, practicing. The underwater grasses kept stroking and her head fell back and her breathing came sporadically as the images flashed through her mind, calling up the dream she’d been having with ever-increasing frequency. Oh, such heady delirium… The intoxication of an inescapable embrace. Kisses and caresses and a tongue that licked with crackling, white fire. She knew she shouldn’t surrender to the fantasies, but they were so vivid. As vivid as memory, as sweet as ambrosia.

The underwater fronds coiled and twined like dark serpents, flicking pleasure there and here and oh, there! Within every shadow of the forest, she imagined that she could make out his eyes watching her, equally dark, equally intoxicating. She thrilled to the thought of him spying on her, although she knew she shouldn’t. That he shouldn’t.

That irresistible one. The one destined for her by the Fates.

She dared not invoke his name, not even in her mind. Names had power, especially when voiced with such surging emotion. That would call him to her, which could only bring disaster. Yet she couldn’t help imagining his voice, his song, his gaze, his scent.

All around the pool, trees burst into buds, then blossoms, then leaves. The leaves crinkled-ignited-fell. Ash. And then buds-blossoms-leaves-cinders-buds-blossoms-leaves…over and over until a short, piercing cry shot from her throat, incinerating every leaf and blade of grass in earshot. The echo of her voice hung in the air. Then it all collapsed like that of the world crashing down.

Silence.

The last of her breath trickled out. She fell backwards into the water, buoyed by the congenial fronds and her radiant ecstasy. Slowly, gently, blossoming came to the forest once more until all appeared as it had before. No one would be the wiser, for nothing was altered.

Nothing but her.

UP NEXT:
CONTRIVING - Eros presents a long-devised love-match to his horrified mother

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