how do you solve a problem like persephone?

[Persephone Marston]

Persephone had a problem. And the problem was that she existed as a living, breathing, human being on the same farmland where the person she had humiliated herself in front of also existed. She was actually grateful, for once, for the amount of work that it took to plant the new wheat now that the ground had thawed enough for them to actually make progress. The work was tedious and exhausting, but it made for a good distraction. Any time she saw even a glimpse of August Keller, she took off in the opposite direction to find a job to keep herself busy.

Problem was, she didn't really like avoiding August, and she was running herself ragged with all the extra jobs she was taking on. It made Ma and Da happy to see her working so hard, but she was fit to drop if she did one more thing. That meant it was time to quit running and get things patched up. And for Perci, patching things up meant sweets. No one could be mad if they had something yummy to snack on, right?

After a long day of sewing new seed, despite wishing she could just collapse into bed and sleep for a week, Perci got to work. She put together a massive batch of cornbread muffins (she had to leave some to satiate her siblings so that some would survive long enough to make it to August), snagged a jar of Bruce's apple butter out of the cellar, tucked them into a basket, and headed off for his little cottage on the opposite end of the fields.

The sun was setting as she tromped down the rows they'd only just finished sowing that day, washing the soil a lovely shade of warm red. She smiled softly as she looked out over their work. They were doing well, with so many hands to help. And then, all too soon, she was standing at August's door. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she knocked.

As soon as the door opened, she shoved the basket towards him.

"I'm-very-sorry-for-mentally-scarring-you," she blurted out all in one breath, running her words all into mush as she looked down at her feet and not at his face. She glanced up at him, thought better of it, and looked back down, digging the toes of her bare feet into the soil to vent all her nervous energy without running away again. "I'm sorry for running, too. I made muffins to fix it. Maybe. I hope."

[August Keller]

He wasn't avoiding Persephone, exactly, but August figured she would be too embarrassed to look him in the eye for awhile. Or ever again. Would she avoid him for that long? It was a rather sad thought, to be honest, but he wasn't the type to simply strike up a conversation with someone he felt wouldn't reciprocate. He didn't wish to make things worse for her, so he just did his job and returned home day after day, sticking to his routine.

So, when he heard that knock on his door, August was almost alarmed. He'd been washing his face and hands, and fumbled to find a towel to dry off with. He figured, if it was anyone at this hour, it was Atlas...yet as he tossed the towel aside and opened the door to his small home, he was a little taken off guard to find the youngest Marston child standing on the other side. And a basket was thrust into his arms.

Oh, so this was an apology. An unnecessary one, and he was already fighting with himself not to laugh. It had clearly been bothering her enough, so he wasn't going to interrupt her.

Although she could barely look him in the eye, he was watching her carefully, perhaps a little too curiously. "It is fine, Persephone, I assure you." At least he remembered to just use her name, even if it wasn't the one she seemed to prefer. "I, uh...shouldn't have been so...intrusive. I apologize." It really was his fault, if you thought about it, and unfortunately that was only dawning on him now. "Just...say the word, and it never happened." Oh, he wouldn't forget it, but he could certainly pretend like he did, for her sake.

There he went, trying not to smile or laugh over it again. The struggle was getting more difficult each time.

[Persephone Marston]

Persephone's head popped up when he apologized, and she was already opening her mouth to argue before she realized she should just shut up. She should take whatever she could get if it meant that things could go back to the way they were. She didn't want to hide from August, and she didn't want him to avoid her, either. He was practically family, and she'd hate to lose him, especially over something so silly. She'd even considered swearing she wouldn't get any more of those kind of novels if she had to.

"Just...say the word, and it never happened."

Her jaw dropped.

"You mean it?" she crowed, bouncing on her toes in her excitement. "Oh thank goodness! I was worried you'd just think I was awful and never want to see me again or something! Which is silly because you're obviously far too nice to hate me over a romance novel but I can't help worrying, it's just how I am and--oh I'm so glad." She gave a great sigh of relief and stepped forward to quickly push herself up on her tiptoes and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"You're the best, August Keller," she gushed.

Abruptly, she remembered she was holding a basket full of muffins.

"Oh! You have to take these or it doesn't count! They're cornbread, and I brought apple butter for them, too. I made them myself, so I promise they're good. I may have also taste-tested one when no one was looking. But don't tell Lassie, cuz I wouldn't let him have one until I took yours first. You get the prettiest ones."

[August Keller]

Was it truly that big of a deal? It was a novel...even if a very particular kind that August hadn't expected the innocent Persephone to ever read. That was perhaps what took him so off guard and made the whole ordeal that much more embarrassing.

A soft smile curled his lips as she appeared to be relieved. "You are allowed to read whatever you wish to. I was just-" August paused when she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "...surprised, is all." Well, that was an understatement, and his face nearly reddened. He had been completely taken off guard that day, and it was happening all over again. And not only that, he felt like he had intruded on her privacy which wasn't like him at all.

Bright eyes blinked, her continued words snapping him out of that gentle confusion. August noted the basket again and found himself smirking as she rambled on. Well, they certainly smelled delicious, and he'd never say no to any type of baked goods, especially from Persephone.

Quiet for a moment, he startled a bit as he stepped aside. "Oh, come inside. I'm sorry, I'm just...standing here." Like an idiot, he wanted to add. Of course, he felt like the small cottage was a bit of a mess because he'd been so busy with this season that he wasn't home much except to sleep. So, he was rushing towards the small table of the main room to clear it of random items, quickly wiping one of the chairs with his hand in case it was dusty and she wished to sit.

It was certainly a small home, but quaint. There was the main area with a small fireplace and kitchen, seating area, then a small bedroom off to the side. It wasn't much, but it was plenty for him.

[Persephone Marston]

"Oh, nothing to apologize for. It's nice out." She looked back over her shoulder at the sunset. The last rays warmed her face and for a moment, she let her eyes fall closed, tipped her chin up, and let it soak in. Finally, she sighed contentedly. "Better than nice. It's a lovely evening."

She recalled herself, though, and followed him inside. The house was small but cute, and not too messy. Cluttered, maybe, but not gross. She set the basket on the table and wandered lightly through the room with her hands clasped behind her back while August rushed around picking up. He hadn't been expecting a guest, she gathered, but she didn't mind. Honestly, she was too busy being curious about his place. A person's home said something about them, she thought. It was like an extension of themself.

Off to the side, she saw a table covered in papers, and though she was curious, she didn't stray close enough to read it. Whatever it was it was his business, not hers. She did want to know, of course, but she wouldn't trespass where she wasn't invited. She liked August too much to ignore his privacy on purpose. "Were you working on a letter or something?" she asked, nodding to the stack. "I can get out of your way if you're busy, you know. I just wanted to make amends, sort of."

[August Keller]

August wasn't used to anyone but Atlas dropping by, and he didn't really care whether his small home was a mess or not for the man. Not that he thought Persephone would outright judge him, but still. He was a rather tidy person, but sometimes, when he got so focused on something, everything else went ignored. Hence the reason why he had so many random papers upon the desk, as well as scattered in random places.

Sometimes he liked to write stories. Short ones, simple ones, others that barely made sense. There were occasions where he would have some dark, erratic dream and immediately have to jot it down just in case. Nothing more ever came of it, and it was rare if he ever finished one. Same with his poems. They would start off great before withering off, or he'd grow frustrated. He could publish a huge novel with the amount of unfinished stories and poems he had gathering dust.

Bright eyes regarded her as she lingered in the doorway, squinting gently in the tiny smile he shared. "The weather is finally warming up," he pointed out the obvious. But, you know, conversationally. Or something. He leaned down to grab a piece of paper from the other chair, looking perplexed. How did that even get there? August barely realized she had been nearing the desk until she spoke, and he tried not to look panicked.

Tried being the keyword here.

"Uh, no, I-" Hmm, he didn't often share that aspect of his life with anyone, mainly because he figured others would find it dull. However, Persephone Marston was a huge fan of books, was she not? "Not a letter," he finally answered, brushing passed her to place the found piece of parchment onto one of the stacks on the desk. Was he suddenly acting more quiet and awkward than usual, or was he imagining it? "They're, well- I mean, I try to-" He didn't know why he was all shy about it now. "I had wanted to be a writer for awhile," the farmhand finally managed.

August actually cringed a little before taking up a random poem to hand it to her. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly compelled to share any of it with her, but it was definitely too late to take it back now.

There was part of it written, scribbled in a quick hand with nearly every other word scratched out because he kept changing his mind:
What is love?
The way the sun sets so that the moon can shine.
The sea greeting the shore no matter how many times he is pushed away.
Leaves that blush at the sight

And that was it. He either got distracted by something else or couldn't figure out how to even finish that part. At the sight of what?

[Persephone Marston]

Perci watched curiously as August's demeanor changed to panic and he struggled to find an answer. Oh dear, was that not something she was supposed to see? Were they love letters? Her imagination took off in leaps and bounds, imagining that he had fallen for a woman in the market who'd been sent away to some far-off place and she and August were exchanging heartbreaking letters even now.

Her curiosity only grew the longer he put off the answer. Goodness, it must be something even more dramatic than she'd already imagined. Perhaps the lover was a noblewoman, wed to someone else!

"Not a letter," he finally answered, brushing past her to place the found piece of parchment onto one of the stacks on the desk. Was he suddenly acting more quiet and awkward than usual, or was he imagining it? "They're, well- I mean, I try to-" He didn't know why he was all shy about it now. "I had wanted to be a writer for a while," the farmhand finally managed.

Well that was a horse of a different color! August was turned away as if he was afraid to look at her, but Persephone perked up like a dog to a whistle. Writing? He wanted to be a writer?

She took the offered sheet with glee, moving a few steps closer to the window so she could see it by the sun. His handwriting was neat and well-practiced, easy to read despite the cursive.

What is love?
The way the sun sets so that the moon can shine.
The sea greeting the shore no matter how many times he is pushed away.
Leaves that blush at the sight

And there it stopped. He must not be finished, but she loved it already. Poems about love were the best kind if you asked Persephone. Of course, no one ever had...but if they did.

She looked back to August with awe written all over her face.

"August, what do you mean you wanted to be a writer? Clearly, you are one! This is gorgeous." She gave him a faux-stern look. "I can hardly make sense when I speak, let alone write something pretty."

[August Keller]

August clenched his jaw as he remained silent, every now and then his eyes flickering up from the paper in her hands to her face as if he'd be able to judge her reaction before she spoke. This was something that Atlas didn't even know about, something he didn't even think to tell his best friend. Maybe the soldier wouldn't taunt him as much as August suspected him to, but it was still something that he couldn't relate to. Persephone could, at least in a way. It was perhaps why he had so easily shared it with her. Still, it was strange, and he didn't know how to feel about it or what came over him all of a sudden.

If only his life were as interesting as storybooks, maybe it would be enough inspiration to finish one of these stories or poems. His life was good, though, albeit maybe a little dull at times, he thought, but it was nothing to complain about. He was grateful for everything he had and would never wish for anything too far out of his reach. August knew his limits, and maybe it was why he had resigned to the thought of simply never accomplishing anything more than what he had- a pile of unfinished poetry.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath, only letting it out slowly when she looked back up to him. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners in gentle awe at her sincerity, even if he still didn't believe it himself. Finally, he pulled his attention away, back to the papers on the desk where he lightly messed up the pile there to prove how many he'd attempted and failed. "I've never finished one. Not one." It was his way of arguing her without blatantly doing so.

A gentle chuckle, he offered a light shrug of a shoulder. "You make perfect sense to me," he told her casually. Even when she tended to ramble, it never seemed to bother him. Maybe because he always thought he was too quiet and it could be off putting to some, so it was okay if she was simply talking instead. He genuinely thought she was the most adorable and interesting when she went on and on in excited chatter. It made him feel as though he were a part of her world.

August turned to lean a hand against the desk, using the other to rummage through the small mess of papers in thought; his mind drifting back to the other conversation. "I'm just...not sure why I draw a blank every time. It's like I get struck with an idea, only for it to wither away before the end."

[Persephone Marston]

Persephone scrunched her nose at his argument. She recognized it for what it was--a way of taking the wind out of her compliment's sails. He didn't outright argue, but she didn't like the way he was writing it off. He really was good, even if the poems weren't done yet. She thought it was amazing he'd started in the first place, even if they weren't finished yet.

"Well, maybe you just need more inspiration! Or maybe you need a um, whatchamacalit…..um…." she looked up at the ceiling and made a little popping sound with her mouth while she tried to remember the word she wanted. "A um…" It took a little longer for her to find it, but when she did, she tipped her chin back down and hopped up on her toes in her excitement. "Oh! A sounding board! You know, someone to bounce ideas off of. Maybe someone blonde...and nice...who makes good muffins?" She blinked her big eyes innocently and pushed her hair behind her ear, playing coy.

She looked back down at the poem in her hands. The sea and the shore, the sun and the moon...leaves and what? Well, he said leaves blushing, which made her think of them changing color. "Leaves change color when it's cold...so maybe something about winter? Or um...frost? Frost makes pretty designs like lace on the windows."

[August Keller]

Leafing through that pile of papers was just further reminding him of that failure. August tried not to think of it that way, but when he struggled numerous times, well, it was a little difficult not to. Still, he loved it. He still got moments of inspiration and they usually happened to be when he couldn't just drop whatever he was doing to jot his thoughts down. It made things challenging, truly, and yet he still pursued it at night after work, sitting there at his desk by candlelight in hopes it would all come back to him.

Was it possible to think too hard on something?

Amusement washed over him as she sought for a particular word, simply waiting patiently until she found it. 'Maybe someone blonde...and nice...who makes good muffins?' Slowly, a smile cracked across his face before he ultimately broke out in low laughter. "You think that would help?" he asked. It sounded like an innocent question until it became clear that he was beginning to tease. "And where might I find this...nice blonde baker?"

August shifted so that he could lean back against the desk, folding his arms across his chest. His chuckling died off as she glanced back down at the poem, but he was quietly watching her face as she mulled it over. Honestly, he was curious what she might come up with. She spoke of winter, of frost and the lacey patterns it could create on glass, and it was beginning to get those wheels turning again inside his head.

So, he shifted a little, just enough to reach over for another piece of paper to hand to her; purely curious what she might think or come up with when it came to another unfinished poem.

You were you.
and I was I;
we were two
before our time.

I was yours,

And once again, that's where it ended.

[Persephone Marston]

"And where might I find this...nice blonde baker?"

Persephone laughed. "You've got a whole farm full of blondes to choose from. You tell me."

He got more serious when she looked at the poem and tried to guess at an ending, and it had her a little worried, at first. Was it rude of her to try and finish it? She didn't mean to be. He started rummaging around behind him, and she wondered if he was looking for a pen or something, then. But before she knew it, he was handing her another poem instead. Curious, she took it, and read this one too.

You were you.
and I was I;
we were two
before our time.

I was yours,

She blinked. Her mind automatically filled in 'and you were mine' on the end, like it belonged there. But that seemed too easy. "Is 'I was yours and you were mine' too simple? Maybe something after, for the rhythm…" She read the poem out loud, quietly tapping her foot to the rhythm of the sounds.

You were you.
and I was I;
we were two
before our time.

I was yours,
You were mine.
Even then
Before our time?

She looked up at August for his reaction, then got nervous again and blushed as she looked back down at the poem.

"Wait, is it even allowed to repeat?" She giggled and shook her head. "I don't know the rules or anything, but that one sounds like a song to me, so maybe it's allowed to have a chorus? I dunno, I like what you have, anyway; it's sweet."

Actually, she was wondering who was two before their time, and it was starting up her thoughts again about August having a super-secret love interest. She'd have to be pretty, obviously, and really nice. August needed someone nice because he was too sweet for anyone to be mean to. Plus Lassie would kick out any woman who treated his best friend badly.

[August Keller]

Not that it had ever been hard to talk with Persephone, but strangely, it felt a lot easier to now all of a sudden. And he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because they finally shared this common interest of sorts that didn't involve farm work- and really, who actually enjoyed that? August would talk to just about anyone, but whether or not he would know what to say was always the question left up in the air. So, more often than not, he was fairly quiet and came across as shy.

Silently as before, he watched her mull over the second unfinished poem. "I don't think anything can be too simple," he told her. "Writing is...well, it's simply what you wish to write." Or so he gathered. Despite the growing pile of poems, he was certainly no expert.

A gentle smile found his face as she began to read it out loud. There was something about hearing someone read what he had written that made his heart beat just a little bit quicker, or maybe it was just her and the sweetness of her voice, and the new verse she suggested. He also probably shouldn't have liked the soft blush that swept across her cheeks.

"I don't think there are any rules," August added with a light shrug of his shoulders, kind of reiterating what he had just said. Writing- poem, story, or even a song- should be whatever you want, whatever you make of it. The idea of it being a song, though, intrigued him.

Wordlessly requesting that paper back from her, he leaned over his desk once again and grabbed for the ink and quill to swiftly jot down what she had come up before either of them could forget. "I never considered a song before..." He trailed off a moment before those blue eyes were looking to her from over his shoulder. "Do you sing then, Persephone?"

[Persephone Marston]

No rules at all? That seemed...exciting. But kind of scary. How was she supposed to do something without anywhere to start? Maybe that was why he was the writer, not her.

She returned the paper to him when he held out his hand for it and drifted closer to watch over his shoulder as he put down what she'd said. He liked it! She did a wiggly little dance of happiness, though she froze as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at her. Dance, what dance? I wasn't moving at all!

"Sing? Um, only sometimes? Just for fun, you know. Sometimes when I'm out walking in the wood I sing just for the joy of it...Like, I'm so happy I need to make a noise about it? I don't know." She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked onto her heels, then forward onto her toes, and back again, venting some of her nervous energy into the movement. She wasn't sure really why she was feeling embarrassed talking about this. She just felt silly. Childish, maybe. Like since she was a grown-up lady, she wasn't supposed to go for wanders about in the woods and sing just for the sake of singing.

"I have a lot of energy, I suppose, and it has to have a way out. Singing is a good one. Running is good too, I used to run in the fields a lot. I go for walks instead now, to look at the trees and collect pretty rocks and just...just be, I guess."

[August Keller]

There were rules with spelling, grammar, and the like, but since he'd never gone to a proper school for much of anything else, he wasn't sure if writing things in particular had rules. Did poems have to rhyme? He was fairly certain he had read ones that hadn't, and loved them all the same. For him, writing was like any other art form- it was, simply, what you made of it, and no one could tell you otherwise.

Which was strange because, even without someone telling him what to do, he still couldn't seem to do it.

August had to clench his jaws a little because he had, indeed, caught the tail end of that little dance, and he was trying not to laugh. Perhaps he was hiding the fact that he saw it to see if she would try doing it again whenever he looked away. Still, a corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest of grins while she spoke.

Eventually, that grin grew into a gentle smile. "To look at trees, or get stuck in trees...same thing, I suppose." Oh, was he trying to be cheeky? Was he actually trying to joke around, even a little bit? Well, look at that.

Shaking his head lightly, holding back a laugh, he regarded her again. "Perhaps...you'd try to turn one of these into a song one day?" It was a suggestion as well as a question. He was truly curious about it.

[Persephone Marston]

"To look at trees, or get stuck in trees...same thing, I suppose."

Perci had the nerve to look indignant at that one, although it was soon ruined by a grin. She couldn't really be mad. It was funny, after all.

"Perhaps...you'd try to turn one of these into a song one day?"

She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise but nodded after a moment's thought. "Sure, I could try. I don't know how good it would be, but…" She shrugged. She was only a musician as a hobby, it wasn't like she was a master composer. But still, it sounded like a fun project as long as August wouldn't be disappointed in the results. She'd just feel like an idiot if she turned one of his poems into a song and he didn't even like it. What kind of friend would she be then, huh?

"Probably that one, the 'Before our time' one. It just...feels right, I dunno." She shrugged again, still rocking on the balls of her feet.