XVII. now we play the waiting game

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0017

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0017. | NOW WE PLAY
THE WAITING GAME

          Aphrodite was always told to be the goddess of love and beauty, there was no mistaking it, only the mistakes made in what that entailed. Everyone knew of her love for roses and separation from violence, only no one ever remembered the thorns of the flowers she wore in her hair that drew golden godly blood which made her eyes shine in the morning sunlight; nor the passion that flowed through her with every step, ferocious and fiery, flames that could engulf cities and souls, a wildfire of passion that rushed through the blood like lightning that crackled and awakened a divinity within mortals who dared to worship her.

          The citric stain that wafted by fallen soldiers' crusted blood, the sharpness, the emotion, the sheer motivation of love hidden in war, the true reason how she had attracted War himself, and kept him. How she, Love and Beauty, controlled the barbarity of Fear and Terror and bent them to her will. How she kept them all for herself whilst never depriving mortals of such passionate violence. How she was simply the goddess of love and beauty but still threaded herself like poison into every aspect of emotion, of heartache and heartbreak. How she was not the gentleness of the rose petal, but rather the stain of the scent that wafted in noses and carried on clothes, clinging, sinking, clawing into hearts and souls. Aphrodite was never told to be such a viper.

          And Piper McLean most certainly did not feel like her daughter. Rather, Piper felt a failure.

          She had been tossed from a dragon, forced into a battle of wits with a witch, turned to gold by a king and his bloodthirsty son, and now she was to be scrapped to death by wild wolves. No, Piper most certainly did not feel worthy of her mother's name.

          Not only that, but she was also wounded, to put the icing on the cake. With hypothermia and a still healing twisted ankle, she was hardly a prime fighting warrior, which her companions seemed to realise, but Piper couldn't decide if she appreciated it or despised it.

          "Stay there." Jason told her. "We'll protect you."

           No, she most certainly despised it. Piper gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw, trying to stand up. Pain from her ankle shot up her leg and jolted her but she stayed standing for the sheer power of being stubborn. With one hand on the wall of the cave, she used the other to ward out in front of her, Katoptris in hand, the mirrored metal comforting her slightly. It would be easy to wipe clean of that citric blood.

          The burning firelight of Leo's campfire barely lit outside of the cave, and in the darkness, creeping, stalking, were a pair of glowing red eyes like sharpened rubies accompanied by the scraping of nails against stone despite the hailing snowstorm that rattled the rocks. Despite the fact that Piper had company, she could've sworn the red eyes never ceased their stare on her and only her. Never once did they stray to Jason and his golden sword, nor Leo and his flickering fire, or even Coach Hedge with his taut muscles and violent determination. It only watched her.

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