Chapter Text
There was no party without the charities.
Well, there was no party without Dionysus, but his daughters brought their unique charms that, without each, left any event lacking. And so of course they were welcomed among the many gods to meet with Cousin Zagreus in the depths of the underworld.
The news was appropriately scandalous, the wine plentiful, the house charming if macabre, and the company in the highest spirits. Pasithea, although one of the calmer sisters, was popular enough in this strange new environment. When party goers had their fill of the high energy her sisters could offer, they drifted towards her. The calm of her voice, the swirl of her eyes, even the soft and flowing nature of her clothing lent itself to a pleasant form of consciousness before the retribution of sobriety set in. After all, what goes up must come down.
In a particularly loud moment, her wine god father himself challenging the hell-prince to a friendly wager, Pasithea slipped from the swell of the crowd into the quiet halls of the house of Hades. Perhaps it was rude to stray like this, but the nature of the event left no room for Lord Hades' punishment. Besides, how often did one come to the underworld?
She resisted any urge to peer into closed rooms - no need to tempt the fates - instead wandering in a sort of contented daze past portraits and busts and contraptions and sculptures. She paused to admire one such contraption, something entirely in gold with no sort of plaque to explain it. As her mind wandered its own corridors, she noticed a splash of vibrant red on the opposite wall.
It was a figure, clad in red robes and wrapped in a plush, quilt-like cloak. They lay draped across a stiff, unyielding bench as though it were made of the softest material Olympus had to offer. There was little to see of this figure, so enveloped were they, but she could make out a decorated eye mask and a cloud of white hair.
Who was this? Why were they sleeping amidst such a grand event? How were they so comfortable in such an unwelcoming space? This was the underworld, and even she found herself unable to fully relax.
A swell from the distant party tore her attention free, and her shift caused her to bump the piece she had admired. It shifted just barely, too heavy to knock free but heavy enough that its jostling awoke the figure.
They bolted upright, floating ever so slightly as they pulled their mask up into their fluffy hair.
"Oh, hi! Hello!"
A man, then, but one with a voice as bright as birdsong. His sudden awakening seemed to have no affect on his chipper tone.
"You must be from the party," he noticed, smiling despite her silence. "If you want to enjoy the party, you should try to stay near everyone else! If you go that way and take a left, you'll be right back. Try not to get lost again!"
She followed his gesture to look back the way she came, then back to him. When she didn't move he asked, "Oh! Did you need something else?"
“Aren’t you coming to the party?” she asked, her own voice willowy and a little breathless.
“In just a moment, I think. I’ve got to finish this list for Lord Hades! He insisted I have it done before the party, and I figure as long as I haven’t attended the party before it’s done I’m covered.”
He gestured widely to a table beside his bench where a stack of parchment and a quill lay, the edges of the top parchment lined in dramatic borders.
This flawed logic brought a smile to her face. What a strange, silly man this was. And so bright in such a dark place.
“When you join, you will find me and my sisters, then,” she said. “We will celebrate your completed list together.”
“Sure!” he said. “I did promise Megaera I’d get a drink with her at the party, not that she ever did agree on her end, but I’m sure that won’t take long. I ought to say hi to Zagreus as well first, and then my brother.”
“Perhaps you ought to make a list for your greetings as well,” Pasithea teased, stepping closer. She reached to the table, freeing a blank piece of parchment. With a flick of her wrist, the quill rose and wrote out “List of Who To Greet at The Party” at the top. It floated down to draw several dots, one below the previous, until it reached a fourth. There, it simply wrote “Charities”. As a final flourish, a few of the names he’d mentioned filled the first few lines.
“Oh, gee, thanks!” he exclaimed, taking the list from her eagerly. “This’ll help a lot!”
“After your work is done, then,” Pasithea said, her own farewell.
“See ya soon!” he called after her. Pasithea floated her way back to the party, pulled back in by her sisters as soon as was within their sights. She tried not to worry about the cloud-haired man. Still, her eyes found their way back to the door every chance they had until it was her leaving through those doors, deflated and unaffected by the joys of her sisters.