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gen_battleTitle: Gossip Folks
Author: Missy (bring_me_sugar)
Fandom: Greek Mythology
Pairing/Characters: Background Ariadne/ and Psyche/Cupid
Rating/Category/Trigger and Content Warning: PG; slice of life, friendfic
Word Count: 1,000
Disclaimer: Firmly of the public domain, but not of my creation, these characters belong to the world.
Spoilers: general spoilers for each woman's mythology.
Summary: Michael tries to talk Sam into retiring, and Sam finds what was once an
Notes/Warnings: Written forgen_battle, prompt: From One Mortal-Turned-Goddess To Another.
The adjustment period is, in its own unqualified way, the hardest part. Ariadne still searches the bedchamber for thread and needle to mend her torn chiton to the musical laughter of her husband, who waves his grape-stained hand and mends the fabric in a moment. She blushes to the roots of her hair and never – not in the hundreds of years she dwelled upon Olympus – does she recall that she can cure the rent with her own magic.
When she asks Psyche during one sun-dappled afternoon how she’s learned to adapt herself to the non-rigors of their glamorous new lives, Psyche shrugs her golden shoulder and smiles.
“I have to recall that I must do things for myself. It’s a fair switch, after years of being pampered by my village.”
Ariadne’s nose wrinkles in amusement. “How could I forget that? All those years groomed as a sacrifice.” The most beautiful, sweetest girl in the village, intended as a blood offer to Aphrodite, a walking prayer to the Gods for fruitfulness.
She smiles her beautiful smile. “It’s, isn’t it?” Psyche plucks a goblet of wine up from the table before them, drinking deeply of its contents.
Ariadne watches her drain the goblet, her eyebrow arching. “Are you all right?” Sometimes Ariadne wonders if she is; the standards surrounding her are quite high.
“As well as I can be.” She plucks up a fig and smiles. “I have the most patient, darling husband in all the world, and the most gorgeous daughter brought to Olympus since Athena leapt from Zeus’ forehead.” She pats her tresses and scoots deeper into the seat of her golden throne. “It’s so hot today. I think I’m getting a blemish.”
It dawns on Ariadne that Psyche has been trained to expect death, that her deathlike life must seem surreal to her. Most heavens are such, she decides lightly. She spears a fig upon her little finger.
“And you?” Psyche asks.
Ariadne smiles. “I smell of wine. My diadem makes the stars, and I have given two children to the grape fields.”
She smirked. “The pits?”
A laugh. “The pits.”
They toast glasses and close away unpleasant topics. They are immortal, and many days of exploration lie ahead.
Author: Missy (
bring_me_sugar)Fandom: Greek Mythology
Pairing/Characters: Background Ariadne/ and Psyche/Cupid
Rating/Category/Trigger and Content Warning: PG; slice of life, friendfic
Word Count: 1,000
Disclaimer: Firmly of the public domain, but not of my creation, these characters belong to the world.
Spoilers: general spoilers for each woman's mythology.
Summary: Michael tries to talk Sam into retiring, and Sam finds what was once an
Notes/Warnings: Written for
gen_battle, prompt: From One Mortal-Turned-Goddess To Another.The adjustment period is, in its own unqualified way, the hardest part. Ariadne still searches the bedchamber for thread and needle to mend her torn chiton to the musical laughter of her husband, who waves his grape-stained hand and mends the fabric in a moment. She blushes to the roots of her hair and never – not in the hundreds of years she dwelled upon Olympus – does she recall that she can cure the rent with her own magic.
When she asks Psyche during one sun-dappled afternoon how she’s learned to adapt herself to the non-rigors of their glamorous new lives, Psyche shrugs her golden shoulder and smiles.
“I have to recall that I must do things for myself. It’s a fair switch, after years of being pampered by my village.”
Ariadne’s nose wrinkles in amusement. “How could I forget that? All those years groomed as a sacrifice.” The most beautiful, sweetest girl in the village, intended as a blood offer to Aphrodite, a walking prayer to the Gods for fruitfulness.
She smiles her beautiful smile. “It’s, isn’t it?” Psyche plucks a goblet of wine up from the table before them, drinking deeply of its contents.
Ariadne watches her drain the goblet, her eyebrow arching. “Are you all right?” Sometimes Ariadne wonders if she is; the standards surrounding her are quite high.
“As well as I can be.” She plucks up a fig and smiles. “I have the most patient, darling husband in all the world, and the most gorgeous daughter brought to Olympus since Athena leapt from Zeus’ forehead.” She pats her tresses and scoots deeper into the seat of her golden throne. “It’s so hot today. I think I’m getting a blemish.”
It dawns on Ariadne that Psyche has been trained to expect death, that her deathlike life must seem surreal to her. Most heavens are such, she decides lightly. She spears a fig upon her little finger.
“And you?” Psyche asks.
Ariadne smiles. “I smell of wine. My diadem makes the stars, and I have given two children to the grape fields.”
She smirked. “The pits?”
A laugh. “The pits.”
They toast glasses and close away unpleasant topics. They are immortal, and many days of exploration lie ahead.
