@fIowersbeneath For one of the older gods, he surely could be mistaken as otherwise sometimes - evidenced by the petulant frown taking over his features then, as much as he may have tried to disguise it.
"Persephone, don't be like that."
@fIowersbeneath This time his hand does start before he can stop it, reaching out towards her pale frame, though still he hesitates, skeletal digits redirected to drum upon his own arm instead.
"And what is 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 supposed to mean?"
He resists the urge to catch her wrist as she breezes past - he's never been much of one to 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦, as she knows (at least, not very 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯).
"You don't, my queen?"
now that smile fully creeps into fruitation , as she brushes past him , the lace of ivory dress entangling with his ankles .
" I'm sure I don't know what you mean , [ my king ] . "
and just as quickly as she approached , her hand is retreating .
she hums softly with feigned innocence , swaying from foot to foot - some old hymn .
if it was only perhaps . . .