Chapter 7 #2
Breathing hard, Demeter finally lifted her head and scowled at Erato’s leering.
“We are here, Muse, because this is where the Cherry Blossom Festival takes place every year. It’s more than just the blossoms, obviously.
Hence, most of the activities are still going ahead.
The 10k run, the Pink Reception etcetera, etcetera.
I tend to make an appearance every so often, as it’s a celebration I actually enjoy.
The cherry trees are gorgeous when in bloom, the people are suddenly kinder, gentler, perhaps inspired by the tenderness of the blossoms… ”
Erato crossed her arms at her chest.
“So why not have them bloom?” She watched carefully as annoyance flittered over Demeter’s face.
“When I’m good and ready. And speaking of ready, are you?” As soon as she spoke, some dude fired a starter gun, made all the louder by the wretched microphone that amplified it, and the barbaric horde of thousands of people began running all around Erato.
She tried standing her ground, because no, absolutely not, Erato did not run.
She was too gorgeous to run. Devastatingly so.
And running implied sweating and there were only one or two distinct circumstances under which—or on top of which—Erato sweated.
Still, with Demeter taking off in a slow trot, clearly giving her time to catch up, the thread around her wrist tightened, and she was propelled forward, almost losing her footing in the blasted crowd.
The first mile flew by. Erato did her best to keep up, as Demeter set their pace. The second mile was challenging, particularly because she kept falling behind. Not that she was getting tired, but Demeter in running shorts gave her somewhat of an incentive to do so.
Mainly, the butt. It was glorious. And Erato was but a feeble sinner of a muse who damn near sprained her wrist trying and failing to run, not get dragged and still marvel at the godly creation that was Demeter’s behind in what was surely the greatest human invention since strap-ons. Glory, glory to running shorts.
By mile three, Demeter started to tire and Erato’s view of the glorious behind was no longer possible without her falling back on purpose and she didn’t think she’d get away with it.
Moreover, all sorts of people who had no business being ahead of them were doing just that and when a particularly lecherous dude with a weird hairdo and a ridiculous blue suit sprinted past, all the while ogling Demeter, Erato’s competitive spirit took over.
It was Demeter’s turn to be dragged after the sprinting Erato.
“Are you suddenly determined to win the damn race, Muse?”
“No, but that guy over there full on drooled over you.”
Breathing heavily and distracting Erato to no end with her heaving bosom, Demeter raised an eyebrow, managing to look both outraged and incredulous. A true fit of godly perfection in Erato’s book, since those features were indeed perfect. And divine. And gorgeous?—
“Your inside thoughts are on the outside, dearest.”
The dulcet tone wrenched Erato out of her absolutely delusional musings. They had to be delusional. Maybe she had eaten something? Or drunk? Because this was some kind of sorcery. And what in the hounds of hell was Aphrodite doing here? Running?
“Jesus, Dite!”
“Wrong religion, dearest. And do not invoke baby Cerberus. I am told he has not recovered from whatever ruckus you caused on his mommy’s boat recently.”
Erato huffed, more indignant than tired, and looked back to see Demeter fixing her earphones and determinately ignoring the entire world around her. Well, at least she had some privacy to talk.
“It was Hera who caused that ruckus.”
Aphrodite adjusted her headband, once again ensuring she looked ridiculously beautiful even halfway into a grueling race. Erato blinked and subtly pinched herself. Was she dreaming?
“You aren’t. And yes, I know it was Hera.
But the sheer fact that she left whatever palatial dwelling she currently occupies in New York and deigned to travel to Hades’s boat, exert herself to insult and humiliate and do that?
” Aphrodite pointed to the barely visible golden thread, stretched to its maximum six feet in length between Erato and Demeter’s wrists.
Erato rolled her eyes. “She enjoys the insults and the humiliation.”
“Be that as it may. She never cared about her sister. Nobody really did and this entire kerfuffle with Hades, Hera, Poseidon, and even Zeus suddenly getting all bothered about Demeter is strange. Hence I am here.”
Aphrodite flicked a speck of dust off her running top. Erato goggled.
“Poseidon? Zeus?”
“What asshat did you think you were chasing in the aquamarine bodysuit?”
Erato narrowed her eyes.
“No wonder he looked familiar.”
The finish line was drawing closer and, peering ahead, Erato recognized the God of the Seas.
Preening and congratulating himself on finishing the race.
Next to her, Demeter seemed oblivious to the hulking figure.
Aphrodite kept her silence. Something about what she had said earlier burned an acid hole in Erato’s chest.
“Maybe if they paid attention to her when she is overworking herself, and falling asleep over her damn spreadsheets. As well as making sure the Earth doesn’t immediately roll over and die, pun intended, from their misuse, maybe he or any of those gods would have a claim on her.
Or the right to interfere in her business. But they don’t.”
Aphrodite gave her a long sideways look as they approached the finishing line, staying just a touch behind Demeter to allow her to finish first and to make sure they weren’t overheard. When she spoke, it was low and the hair on Erato’s neck stood on end.
“And suddenly it’s your business, Muse of Erotic Poetry and Writing? You wish to tell me that the Goddess of Harvest, one of the most important deities walking this world, is your business to mind?”
As ominous went, Aphrodite had Hera beat, Erato decided before she crossed the line.
If her heart jumping out of her chest was any indication, she had crossed more than one line at that very moment.
And the palpitations had nothing to do with the exertion and everything with the glorious creature running in front of her.