Sweet Pomegranate Seeds, Nine/Rose, PG
Sweet Pomegranate Seeds, Nine/Rose, PG.
Perhaps the Muse would have sung in Homer of women with shining golden hair and eyes, or the sons of gods who won great battles, at great costs. ~775 words (excluding Hymn to Demeter excerpts.)
I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter, awful goddess -- of her and her trim-ankled daughter whom Hades rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer.
It wasn't the right time for their story, maybe. Another age would have sung of them, of the long journey they were destined to take and their reunions that were the product of determination strong as any army to come against them. Perhaps the Muse would have sung in Homer of women with shining golden hair and eyes, or the sons of gods who won great battles, at great costs. Such a story it would be, sung in halls as the fires dimmed and the moon followed her path across the skies, as a troubadour played upon the harp, soon to continue on his own journey. His listeners would know him only by the tales he told, and perhaps to them, he was that wanderer from the stars.
Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious fruits, Persephone was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus and gathering flowers [...] the narcissus [...] to be a snare for the bloom-like girl -- a marvellous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea's salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her -- the Son of Cronos, He who has many names.
She was in an in-between place when she found him; he was in an in-between place when he found her, and in those wispy barriers between worlds is where gods and men meet, and magic happens. Rose didn't start wandering when he took her away: no, she had already found the blooms of freedom intoxicatingly sweet-- so intoxicating, in fact, that in abandoning school for Jimmy Stone and a job in a shop she never noticed that being alone could be just as imprisoning as the suffocating dreams of girls her own age. She wandered and wandered, back streets and late nights, so that when he took her away there was only one to carry that message of where she had gone with the Doctor (oh, the names he had- but there was one she never discovered.)
The goddess yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes of the eternal gods...
Did she miss home, in this time and at this place? Of course not: when he'd told her this curtain of stars would part for her, she believed him.
But no one would tell Demeter the truth, neither god nor mortal man; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. [...] Then she caused a most dreadful and cruel year for mankind over the all-nourishing earth: the ground would not make the seed sprout, for rich-crowned Demeter kept it hid.
Even though the police said that nothing could be done, even after all this time, she still kept pasting up flyers, calling shelters and hostels and occasionally drunk-dialing Mickey in the middle of the night to demand he tell her where he had stashed the body. That man, Mickey tried to tell her, knowing she didn’t listen, that man came and took her, she just went away, and the box glowed as they disappeared into the darkness. She wouldn’t believe it until the Doctor actually told her himself how deep they ran into that outer blackness. It was a grey, barren year, those twelve months Jackie searched for Rose, and nothing grew in her life then.
And Hades, ruler over the dead, smiled grimly [...] [and] straightway urged wise Persephone, saying: "Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, go, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. But he on his part secretly gave her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter.
The Doctor would never take Rose home without first burying the seed of some adventure in her head, the hint of another destination, the next place just the two of them could go. If Rose ever noticed the sweet ideas he was feeding her, she never complained, or perhaps she was too dazzled by their taste to realize that he refused to consider she might not return to him when he brought her back to her fearsome mother. He could never keep her from wandering off but he took care to bind her to him, that the slow path would never claim her back.
He didn't mention the planets of slaves, the people destroyed for the sake of shipping routes, the processes of colonialization in that Great and Bountiful Human Empire they were always visiting. He didn't want to show her the shit, the death, concealed by the darkness. He only wanted to give her the stars.
Strangely enough, though, when she did see the terrible parts of his world, instead of being overwhelmed by them she let her light show instead. He gave her the stars, but she gave him the sun.
"And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods."
Hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble. . . . and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice. Bitter pain seized her heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands: her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea.
Oh yes: Rose was aware of what he was doing to her, the person he was shaping her into. A queen among travelers, his consort forever, and she claimed that identity fiercely, not allowing any contradictions. This time, when he sent her out of the place of death, back to her mother, she took what he had given her and transformed from the girl who had been plucked from one life into this colorful swirl of another world, into someone who could stand by his side in that other life. Someone who would go and stand by his side.
From the mountains to the seas and in markets on planets no astronomer had ever dreamed of, the echoes of her demands to return to him came rushing back to her, and she followed the dark paths for millions of years. When she arrived, the Doctor told her that no human could do what she had just done and live.
But she was no human: she was what he had made her, and she claimed the power of life and death.
"Come, my daughter [Demeter]; for far-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer calls you to join the families of the gods, and has agreed that for a third part of the circling year your daughter shall go down to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts shall be with you and the other deathless gods: so has he declared it shall be and has bowed his head in token."
Author's Notes:
All excerpts from Hymn to Demeter, which was composed roughly in the 7th century BCE and translated in 1914 by Hugh G. Evelyn-White, and the entirety can be found here. It is one of the earlier texts detailing the story of Persephone's kidnapping by Hades, who made her queen of his realm. Her mother, Demeter (a fertility goddess who influenced the growth of crops) caused the earth not to grow for a year as she searched and mourned her vanished daughter. Zeus told Hades he had to return Persephone, so he did, but not before giving her sweet pomegranate seeds to eat. Demeter was happy to see her daughter once again, but asked her if she had eaten anything while in Hades' kingdom, and Persephone admitted that she had eaten several seeds. For this, Zeus decreed that Persephone had to remain in Hades' kingdom for a part of the year; this is why we have winter, and nothing grows. Persphone was highly revered as the Queen of the Underworld.
Two songs that greatly inspired the thought process for this fic were Troubadour by Heather Dale and Welcome to England by Tori Amos. I recommend both of them quite highly.
Perhaps the Muse would have sung in Homer of women with shining golden hair and eyes, or the sons of gods who won great battles, at great costs. ~775 words (excluding Hymn to Demeter excerpts.)
I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter, awful goddess -- of her and her trim-ankled daughter whom Hades rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer.
It wasn't the right time for their story, maybe. Another age would have sung of them, of the long journey they were destined to take and their reunions that were the product of determination strong as any army to come against them. Perhaps the Muse would have sung in Homer of women with shining golden hair and eyes, or the sons of gods who won great battles, at great costs. Such a story it would be, sung in halls as the fires dimmed and the moon followed her path across the skies, as a troubadour played upon the harp, soon to continue on his own journey. His listeners would know him only by the tales he told, and perhaps to them, he was that wanderer from the stars.
Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious fruits, Persephone was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus and gathering flowers [...] the narcissus [...] to be a snare for the bloom-like girl -- a marvellous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea's salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her -- the Son of Cronos, He who has many names.
She was in an in-between place when she found him; he was in an in-between place when he found her, and in those wispy barriers between worlds is where gods and men meet, and magic happens. Rose didn't start wandering when he took her away: no, she had already found the blooms of freedom intoxicatingly sweet-- so intoxicating, in fact, that in abandoning school for Jimmy Stone and a job in a shop she never noticed that being alone could be just as imprisoning as the suffocating dreams of girls her own age. She wandered and wandered, back streets and late nights, so that when he took her away there was only one to carry that message of where she had gone with the Doctor (oh, the names he had- but there was one she never discovered.)
The goddess yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes of the eternal gods...
Did she miss home, in this time and at this place? Of course not: when he'd told her this curtain of stars would part for her, she believed him.
But no one would tell Demeter the truth, neither god nor mortal man; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. [...] Then she caused a most dreadful and cruel year for mankind over the all-nourishing earth: the ground would not make the seed sprout, for rich-crowned Demeter kept it hid.
Even though the police said that nothing could be done, even after all this time, she still kept pasting up flyers, calling shelters and hostels and occasionally drunk-dialing Mickey in the middle of the night to demand he tell her where he had stashed the body. That man, Mickey tried to tell her, knowing she didn’t listen, that man came and took her, she just went away, and the box glowed as they disappeared into the darkness. She wouldn’t believe it until the Doctor actually told her himself how deep they ran into that outer blackness. It was a grey, barren year, those twelve months Jackie searched for Rose, and nothing grew in her life then.
And Hades, ruler over the dead, smiled grimly [...] [and] straightway urged wise Persephone, saying: "Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, go, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. But he on his part secretly gave her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter.
The Doctor would never take Rose home without first burying the seed of some adventure in her head, the hint of another destination, the next place just the two of them could go. If Rose ever noticed the sweet ideas he was feeding her, she never complained, or perhaps she was too dazzled by their taste to realize that he refused to consider she might not return to him when he brought her back to her fearsome mother. He could never keep her from wandering off but he took care to bind her to him, that the slow path would never claim her back.
He didn't mention the planets of slaves, the people destroyed for the sake of shipping routes, the processes of colonialization in that Great and Bountiful Human Empire they were always visiting. He didn't want to show her the shit, the death, concealed by the darkness. He only wanted to give her the stars.
Strangely enough, though, when she did see the terrible parts of his world, instead of being overwhelmed by them she let her light show instead. He gave her the stars, but she gave him the sun.
"And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods."
Hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble. . . . and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice. Bitter pain seized her heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands: her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea.
Oh yes: Rose was aware of what he was doing to her, the person he was shaping her into. A queen among travelers, his consort forever, and she claimed that identity fiercely, not allowing any contradictions. This time, when he sent her out of the place of death, back to her mother, she took what he had given her and transformed from the girl who had been plucked from one life into this colorful swirl of another world, into someone who could stand by his side in that other life. Someone who would go and stand by his side.
From the mountains to the seas and in markets on planets no astronomer had ever dreamed of, the echoes of her demands to return to him came rushing back to her, and she followed the dark paths for millions of years. When she arrived, the Doctor told her that no human could do what she had just done and live.
But she was no human: she was what he had made her, and she claimed the power of life and death.
"Come, my daughter [Demeter]; for far-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer calls you to join the families of the gods, and has agreed that for a third part of the circling year your daughter shall go down to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts shall be with you and the other deathless gods: so has he declared it shall be and has bowed his head in token."
Author's Notes:
All excerpts from Hymn to Demeter, which was composed roughly in the 7th century BCE and translated in 1914 by Hugh G. Evelyn-White, and the entirety can be found here. It is one of the earlier texts detailing the story of Persephone's kidnapping by Hades, who made her queen of his realm. Her mother, Demeter (a fertility goddess who influenced the growth of crops) caused the earth not to grow for a year as she searched and mourned her vanished daughter. Zeus told Hades he had to return Persephone, so he did, but not before giving her sweet pomegranate seeds to eat. Demeter was happy to see her daughter once again, but asked her if she had eaten anything while in Hades' kingdom, and Persephone admitted that she had eaten several seeds. For this, Zeus decreed that Persephone had to remain in Hades' kingdom for a part of the year; this is why we have winter, and nothing grows. Persphone was highly revered as the Queen of the Underworld.
Two songs that greatly inspired the thought process for this fic were Troubadour by Heather Dale and Welcome to England by Tori Amos. I recommend both of them quite highly.