Sep 3, 2023
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Persephone lets herself into an empty apartment, furnished with pastel ghosts and sky for a ceiling. It’s her building, after all. The key is an ordinary landlord outrage, blood warm in her fist. She hasn’t used it since—well. Since ever. Since giving Calliope its twin, because if she wasn’t staying at the Club she needed something, somewhere. Holding it now feels like a crime.
...I have my actual doctorate due for submission in an actual bloody week and Stray Gods has enough of a hold on me that I had to write this anyway. Think of it as a preview for...at least the next 6 months?