ㅤ ┆ brothel

@❛ ⚜ ₊ jackson w. ʰᵃᵈᵉˢ The early first snow that year signalled the call of Demeter for her beloved daughter, the end of spring and bountiful greens, and the beginning of one man’s lonely unescapable days and nights. The skies when the sun had set were another shade of dark, stars forever void, and the horrid temperature that slowly mimicked the dead cold ground were some pointers. These were the things she ought to take note of and be careful of as the man she was supposed to meet was a little tougher to talk to and hard to make a deal with when he was not with his beloved.

The man she was supposed to meet was a man of his word, but he was also known for many other things, but one that rang true for Calypso was that he was challenging to confer. But that made him a great businessman than his brothers could ever be.

There were capsules of women and men on display, dressed to impress, sultry and flirtatious, lined past the entrance. The guests crowded over each glass bulb, eyes on the expanse of the skin of their favourite ones. Right in the middle of the club, dancers occupied a few poles, swinging and taunting the comers. She had heard of how things worked there — the longer your stay, the more you’d forget of the world outside. It was a place without an exit.

Taking off the hood of her jacket, she looked at the man standing at the front of the VIP lounge, and it was all it took to get her escorted inside. They knew of her intention to be there, and without delay, Calypso was led straight to the lair of the man that agonized the winter, Hades.