“Are you hurt?” he asked as Persephone reluctantly peeled herself away from him. “No,” she said, wincing as he plucked a feather she had missed from her shoulder. “Thanks.” “Did you say not again?” Hermes demanded. “How many times have you been chased by assassin birds?” “Three,” Hades replied. “If you count this one. Though these are relatively harmless comparatively.” “Harmless? Harmless?” Hermes’s face was turning pink. “Look at my ass, Hades. Does this look harmless?” He turned to show his backside, which was covered in feathery darts. He looked like a peacock or maybe a porcupine, she
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