#layers of hell mb

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Relationship Moodboard: HADES & PERSEPHONE

“I can be anything you want me to be.” His voice pricks like grit under my nails, pinching, his weight pressing me against the wall-plate. “The old gods twisted themselves into swans just to chase skirts. Imagine what I could bring myself to become—” Killer, killer, king— “Chasing after a queen like you.”

His hands tell me to stand still (What’ll crack first under the pressure?); his eyes are demanding a fight. His grip, my voice, the metal wall-plate: even the air stings with ice. “Even if you don a sheep’s skin, you’re still a wolf. You’re not innocent. You’ll never be innocent. You—You’re just one hell of an actor, Hades, and I’ve already peeked behind the curtains.”

“The delusion died, but you’re still here,” he whispers. “You must have liked what you saw.”

more about... Layers of Hell || Hades || Persephone

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We are not rebels. We are certainly not heroes. We are, at best, survivors--and even our survival reeks of betrayal, of perfumed villainy. I asked Hades once what the Gods would think of our scheme. He replied that the only gods I should concern myself with were ourselves. 

An edit (poster?) set for the characters of my WIP, Layers of Hell.

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like on/off!): @lady-redshield-writes @i-belong-in-space @polapipo @possibledreamswriting @loopyhoopyfrood @inwhichshewritesanddreams @zxywrites @the-musings-of-michael @homesteadhorner @ariesveela @incandescent-creativity @cogesque

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The Argus Surveillance System-- as kids we laughed at it, squealed “The ASS!” before collapsing in a tangle of giggles and limbs, made faces at the cameras so we could see our reflections in the lens. The Argus was a regular part of our fun--the butt of every joke. 

Then Philomelus broke one of the cameras on a dare, and the next day the teachers told us he’d been transferred down to the 3rd floor. If unwanteds like us were dumped here on the 12th floor, what happens to a kid all the way down on the 3rd? 

We stopped making faces at the cameras. 

The gods were meant to look over us and provide judgement. In their absence, the Overs took their place: Were our actions just? Were our thoughts pure? Were we? Whether we were fated for Elysium or Tartarus, the ASS and its handlers would record and judge our every act, whimsically shifting us between floors in accordance with our behavior. Our lives were in the hands of a foul joke. No--we were the joke.

more about... Layers of Hell || Layers of Hell world-building

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Character Moodboard: HADES  |  Infra.Red

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, his voice low.  He runs his fingers over the foot of the bed, drawing grease-black smears on the wood.  

“Of course I am.  You know the answer to every question I'm not allowed to ask.  You alone could kill half a million people with little more than a flick of your wrist.  I have every reason to fear you.”  The words come out too honest, too sincere, stolen--I'm hypnotized by his fingers, smeared in black, painting on my bedframe--the extravagant outline of a crown that he has drawn, lazily dotting it with obsidian gems.

“But you trust me,” he muses.  “You trust me to keep you safe.  To not kill you.  To not use what I know to feed into your misconceptions."  A smile is spreading across his lips, a growing shadow stretching from one corner to the other.  "You trust me to keep your wandering questions between us--you should be careful who you give such power to, my darling.”