. . .
"Nitimur in vetitum, semper cupimusque negata: we strive after what is forbidden, and always desire what is denied."
. . .
A pair of beautiful eyes on an equally beautiful face narrowed in such clear, distressing dismay as she watches the werewolf—Alastor Nyx, she immediately reminded herself—making his way out of that cute ice cream shoppe, his movements mechanical and somewhat... jerky.
What did that little poppy do now?!
"...Well, that was anticlimactic," her son remarked wryly beside her, crossing his legs in one, elegant movement as while some of the humans unconsciously stopped to stare in awe at his beauty, not even bothering to hide it.
She scowls, "Be quiet, Eros."
"Though I have to say, that was quite a bold move. I didn't know Proserpina even had it in her," the god of love chuckles almost fondly, a dark, rich sound that made some of the lingering women blush. "Oh. That adorable, little prude."
"I said, be quiet!" Aphrodite snapped at him, completely unimpressed by the turn of events while he simply raised his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender.
"Sure, mom," he mocks.
The goddess of love seethes.
After all that build-up, that damn sexual tension practically pouring out from their pores, and all the interferences she had so nicely done just for those two to have a chance get together (and yes, they are together now, essentially in the same living space at the moment OH MY THEY ARE ROOMMATES™!) ... this.
This is all they had to show for?!
The nerve!
At this rate, it will take years—years! Oh, the HORROR OF SLOW BURN! —before something incredibly juicy happened (and no, the goddess of love is most certainly not going to count that laughable excuse of a make out session of theirs back then) between these two idiots!
She doesn't want to wait that long! She has to... she needs to get a real, juicy scoop NOW. I mean, just look at him!
Look at the poor boy.
She sighs, her heart already aching for Alastor.
That poor, sweet wolf...
That little hell goddess is really forcing her hand!
Slowly, Aphrodite turns to look at her son.
Eros valiantly attempted to avoid his mother's imperious glare for a few seconds... before ultimately deciding to give up with a particularly loud groan that Alastor thankfully missed, mind still reeling. Or maybe the werewolf just didn't really care.
Ah, love sure does that to you...
But this is not good.
Aphrodite had expected more.
"...Yes, mother?" Eros drawled, already turning to discreetly look at the werewolf who was moving about only but a few feet away from them.
Proserpina's gonna hunt him down for this.
Eh, whatever.
Makes it more fun for him, anyway.
Despite her son's handsomely bored countenance, Aphrodite can see the god of love's hand twitching in clear anticipation as his bow and arrow silently manifests by his lap.
"My sweet boy," she smiles, "Do what you must."
