He'd decided to head west, avoid the plagued snow, but nonetheless wanted to make sure there was no sign of Persephone here in the frozen north before moving on. There had been no sign in the forest along the coast, and while he hadn't gone out to the island beyond, it was populated with other scents -- none of which belonged to his other half. Going any further north was largely out of the question, though he'd followed the coast for a while before heading back this way. Part of him wanted to send Ember out to scout for him, but it wasn't worth the risk of him getting caught alone, getting hurt in poisoned lands.
And the plague seemed to have spread. Hades grumbled at its inconvenience, but hoped Persephone hadn't gotten caught in the middle of it and carried on until he had a better plan. Maybe a way to infiltrate was possible, and he only had to find it?
Did he dare try?
He was headed for the other coast, and then the mountain nearby, if he hadn't found sign of her. Then, from there, he hoped he could get a better lay of the land, see if anything lay beyond.
The dark deity wouldn't need to go that far.

It was only a hint of a scent that caught his attention that night, stopping with his brow furrowing to sniff a tree he thought he'd smelled it from. No -- the breeze hit him in the face and carried it again, a strange, familiar, but wrong smell, one that drew him in but he couldn't quite place. It was hard to follow, and Hades had circled the area several times before it started to nag at him. He sent Ember up, and after a few minutes, his twitter pulled Hades in a definitive direction.

He galloped through the snow for all he was worth, sure he knew the smell -- he had helped create it.
Dread filled him.
He did know that scent, warped as it was.
He didn't want to.
Don't be her.
The blanket of fire and cream, in all its silky glory.... was all too familiar. Hades' breath hitched in his throat, and he sped forward with tears budding in his amber eyes; she's just sleeping. She's just sleeping. She's just sleeping.

My sweet asphodel, he called, voice breaking, heart sinking. She didn't move.

He slowed, panting, as he drew near. It was her -- he recognized her, this form, had no shadow of a doubt this was Persephone even clad in the shadows of the night. His heart shattered against his ribcage, leaving behind a raw, gaping hole where her love belonged.

Please, he begged, merely a whisper, and drew around her side to see her face. She was not curled, sleeping peacefully; her paws were the brown of dried, old blood, and she was jilted against a shoulder as if --his breath hitched-- as if she'd fallen. Something had been wrong, she'd needed help! And where had he been?
Arguing with that worthless shit-stain of a little brother.
Reasoning with Zeus to send him to find her.
He would fucking kill Zeus if he ever returned. If the spoiled cunt was smart, he'd find a way to keep Hades from coming back -- he would topple Olympus for this, he would steal the crown of the king of kings just to crush it beneath his foot.
Hades buckled before her, crumbling inside and out, flopping gracelessly into the snow. Tears began to slide from his eyes. He dragged himself forward, heaving for each deep, borderline-panic breath, and used his two massive forepaws to cradle her head gently. He leaned his dark head over her, covering her, inhaling what so very little of her scent seemed to be clinging to the frozen corpse.

He had failed her.

Where would her soul go from this strange world, where not even Zeus himself could reach? Had Thanatos managed to greet her, ferry her soul to safety? Would she find a form once again, here or there? None of the rules he knew to be true could be counted on here, but what he most feared was that she had been snuffed out, a brilliant light that would never again find the chance to shine.
What was he supposed to do now? Find a way back, he supposed, but he didn't have the faintest idea how to do that, lucky for Olympus. Poseidon had mentioned others being gone, too -- Hades didn't know who to look for, but perhaps a search for other deities was the start of their return? Together, they were always more.
He didn't know what came next. Frankly, he didn't care; he lay draped over Persephone, aching at the coldness, the lack of reaction, as if he thought his warmth might rouse her.

Eventually, once he had sobbed himself hoarse and lifted his head from her nape, he noticed the... sludge on her other side, though he didn't know what to make of it. He was careful not to touch it, as much as it hurt his heart to leave her soiled; assuming it was part of the plague, and part of whatever killed her if not the very reason. He sat up and sniffled, shoulders hunched, and jumped when Ember fluttered to the ground beside him. At Persephone's paws, he lay a single yellow arctic poppy.

I'm sorry, he rumbled to her, voice pitched and crackling, Please, Seph. Please come back. I need you.

This couldn't be it.

Hades and Ember sat in silence for a long, long time, and eventually, the lupine straightened and sighed.

I cannot leave her like this.

He looked to Ember.

Show me where you got the flower.

It enjoyed stony ground. He couldn't burn Persephone or send her off in any special way without thumbs, but he could put in the effort for a nice cairn, at least. A medieval thing, he thought, but respectful. Better than leaving her here, like this, to be forever preserved in the moment of her end or eventually scavenged.

He would follow the screech to the area and, stone by stone, carried them back to Persephone. After the first trip he left the bird to guard her, just in case his activity in the area brought along any unwanted attention -- but Hades got a quiet night in which to work. He was further heartbroken to realize he couldn't fix her into a better position.... but again, at least she would be covered, able to rest.

Hades stayed long after he was done. Dawn came and went, the day passed, perhaps even two; he wasn't sure if he slept or not, but Ember fluttered off at some point for a little while once or twice. The sun had sank again at least once by the time he'd even bothered to rouse himself and look around. It didn't seem to matter, nothing seemed to have changed. He felt hollow. He'd expected more of a search, sure, but he'd also hoped so damn hard that she would be okay. It was so hard for a god, even a godling, to be killed -- what terrible place had they entered that a strong soul like his Persephone could be taken?

~

It was the third night (he still wasn't sure how long it'd been) when he finally stood, the ache in his stomach no longer sated by chewing on snow and the bits of rodent Ember kept seeming to drop in front of him. His limbs trembled as he hauled himself from the ground, but he couldn't tell if it was grief or exhaustion. A light dusting of snow fell from him as he shook out the stiffness; when had it even snowed?

He loped off, intending to find something to eat and return.

He wasn't sure where he could manage to hide himself among all the snow, but he supposed he could use a tree for cover and hope something wandered by, too. The tall, lanky brute paused in the middle of the meadow, frowning, unsure and uncomfortable. He didn't like hunting with his mouth on the best of days, and now... well, he barely wanted to go on. What in the world would even look appetizing?

Hades just stared blankly over the tundra, only half-heartedly looking and not bothering to scent.