[ Penthos brings the suffering of the dead, and Persephone breathes it in, hair carried in the breeze their cries create. Jerusalem is old, its history long; it has been destroyed, besieged, attacked, captured, and recaptured. Death is in its bones, and she reaches for it, feels the souls who fought and bled and died here. The vine on the door twists, poisoned thorns filling the rooms behind it. The dead, after all, make excellent fertilizer.
The smell of asphodel filters into the room, and just beyond it, blood. ]
You know why we're here.
[ If draining them of their powers wasn't enough, Belial opened Tartarus, part of her domain. He will pay for it. She may feel bad about the destruction of parts of the museum later, but if their powers return, it is nothing that cannot be fixed. Long ago, people fought against each other and died here. Persephone calls them back now so that they may fight together, dead and unfeeling and under her control, clawing their way in with bones and rotted flesh. A demon may have nothing to fear from their souls, but their swords still bite. ]
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The smell of asphodel filters into the room, and just beyond it, blood. ]
You know why we're here.
[ If draining them of their powers wasn't enough, Belial opened Tartarus, part of her domain. He will pay for it. She may feel bad about the destruction of parts of the museum later, but if their powers return, it is nothing that cannot be fixed. Long ago, people fought against each other and died here. Persephone calls them back now so that they may fight together, dead and unfeeling and under her control, clawing their way in with bones and rotted flesh. A demon may have nothing to fear from their souls, but their swords still bite. ]