Other ✰ answers in the stars | tarot's writing + musings

[tarot]

 

[tarot]

APHRODITE ​

character: from onexone with wolf | tw: infidelity | wc: 369​

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year 729, 8th of june​

the warmth of the fire lick's at aphrodite's feet, the melancholic girl staring into the flames like they'll talk back to her. the night is quiet, spare the crackle of logs in front of her, and an occasional snore from hephaestus. she knows she should join her husband in their marital bed, but she can't force herself to get up and lie beside him like nothing's wrong. everything's wrong, she can feel the absence of ares as if she had severed her hand.

aphrodite knows she's a selfish woman, to want someone so badly who she can never have. she knows she loves selfishly, aggressively, overwhelmingly. she knows that it's selfish to miss ares when she's married and he could never properly have her. but - there's a certain irony in the goddess of love finds herself brokenhearted, in a loveless marriage. maybe it was a joke. maybe someone had cursed her, the goddess of love unable to keep her true love. the thought made her laugh.

and so, she laughed, quietly and pathetically, until the giggles turned to tears and she was sobbing silently in front of the log fire, the only source of warmth in her life.

realistically, aphrodite knows it's just a fire, a source of warmth for their home, a force of nature.

a sadder, more delusional part of herself reasoned that it was the essence of him.

she can remember late nights with him, wrapped around each other in front of the fire. sometimes he would bend the flames into shapes, cracking jokes, just to see her smile. for a moment, if she closes her eyes, and leans in close and feels the warmth of the fire on her skin and the smell of smoke in her nose, she can imagine she's back to that moment.

so, she does, she reveals in the warmth and memories - but only for a moment.

emotions running high, she waves her hand and a rush of water flies out of the pot and takes out the small log fire. all that's left is the smouldering pile of wet wood and ash. she should have known better than to play with fire, water would always come out in the end. ​

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[tarot]

CALLA DAMAS ​

from onexone with thalia| tw: n/a | wc: 922 ​

the train ride back to hogwarts simultaneously felt like a relief and a death march. pansy and daphne sat to her left, flicking through a witch weekly magazine and discussing the newest fall trends. occasionally they would ask calla's opinion and she would tilt her head, feigning interest before she choose whatever they had said before. theo and blaise sat across from them, arguing about some quidditch game, taking a break every so often to tease pansy or daphne about something they had said. it felt weirdly normal after the summer she had, meeting with her father's ... colleagues and discussing her task for the year. it was surreal, calla felt like the impending timeline was going to swallow her whole, the pressure bearing down on her shoulders like a boulder. as she thumbed through a book on rare and odd magical artifacts (transfigured to look like a potions book, obviously) and searched for information regarding vanishing cabinets, her friends laughed and smiled and lived without worry. must be nice, she mused internally, still thumbing through her book which was proving to be quite unhelpful. ​

the other slytherins may have been carefree but at least she had draco to keep her company in her brooding. he sat across from her, eyes staring out the window as the world sped by. quite truthfully, he looked like his world was ending - not that she couldn't relate to the feeling - but calla shot him a look that she hoped conveyed get it together. draco shot her a look of annoyance, but controlled his features, his occlumency mask sliding back into place. on the best of days, he was already dramatic and brooding, but the traumatic look in his eyes before would have caused a series of questions neither of them could had answered. besides, once pansy caught the trail of something she was relentless in pursing it, calla nor draco needed her on them.

the rest of the ride continued the same, everyone talking quietly about whatever while she flicked through her book. once they arrived, the six slytherins slowly made their way off the train until draco claimed he had left something behind and turned back. the remaining five all shared a look, before continuing off the train and towards the carriages, making light conversation as they went. whatever draco was getting into, they were staying out of it. calla glanced around at the students surrounding them, occasionally making a face when she locked eyes with a gryffindor. she didn't really have the time for silly house rivalries this year but after five years of tension, she couldn't help herself. in her defense, they all stared at slytherins like they were pure evil, ready to lung at them and strike them with an avada in the middle of everyone. she rolled her eyes at the thought, like a slytherin would be so bold and stupid. stupidity and impulse were gryffindor traits, not slytherin.

after a long ride to the castle, everyone started to travel towards the great hall for the welcoming feast. calla sent the rest of her friends towards the great hall, making the excuse of running to the restroom before the first years got there. realistically, she needed to make sure draco had gotten back to the castle and hadn't done anything too asinine. boys, she mused internally, rolling her eyes as she she quickly turned the corner on the steps and ran smack into something - well, someone. it was just her luck to walk right into someone when almost the entire school was upstairs in the great hall. calla opened her mouth to apologize, but the words died in her throat as she realized who she had just knocked into. cole alexander, 6th year gryffindor, and mud - muggleborn.

it wasn't often that she was speechless, but for a moment as she stood there with her hands clutching his shirt and her eyes taking him in, she was speechless. the thing about cole, is that she knows there shouldn't be a thing about cole but arguably there is a history there for the two of them. they were something of friends back in first year but then everyone in slytherin realized he was a 'mudblood' and it was either stay friends with cole or lose her entire house and probably her family too. her mom's sister had fallen in love with a muggleborn and she had been burned off the family tree, disinherited, and never spoken about again. maybe she handled it wrong, but she was a terrified eleven year old. the past was in the past, no reason to dredge it up 5 years later.

after a moment of standing there too long, calla jerks her hands back and starts to move away, trying to focus hard enough so she can slam her occlumency shields back into place. not that she thinks cole is going to try to get into her mind, but occlumency is something she can control, something she can hide behind."i'm sorry - i'm just gonna..." she cuts herself off, pointing towards the steps and starts to make her escape. she can feel the heat on her cheeks and needs to go analyze why cole alexander of all people is making her lose her shit in a stairwell. slowly, she is still moving towards the stairs, thoughts of checking on draco are gone and she just needs to leave this situation before it gets anymore strange. on the bright side, cole probably thinks she gone totally insane, so maybe he'll let her make a getaway without question. ​

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[tarot]

APHRODITE ​

character: from onexone with wolf | tw: n/a | wc: idk like 900-ish lol ​

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humans and the mortal world had always been a puzzle that aphrodite couldn't quite figure out. her, the olympians - the old gods - are mostly a way of the past. a passing thought, something to study, remembered only in the literature written about them, only living in mythology and stories. well - mostly. there's been a revival of sorts in the last decade, mostly young women, who study the old ways, creating alters and giving out offering to the old gods like her. aphrodite treasures these women and their gifts, reveals in the worship and praise and affection she has not felt from humanity in years. it makes her feel young again - not thousands of years old and burnt out. ​

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maybe they're why she's chosen to explore the mortal realm. maybe it's the overwhelming sense of freedom now that hephaestus is dead and gone. or maybe it's simply the curiosity of trying to figure out the puzzle that's stumped her for ages. while she'll insist humans are weaker, simpler beings she can't help but be intrigued by their world and their lives. whatever the reason, she finds herself far from home and surrounded by humans. she can't help but observe in awe, eyes almost twinkling in interest as she survey's them moving around her, living the most ordinary of lives.​

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aphrodite moves through the crowds of them elegantly, posture perfect and head held high. normally, the humans would flock to her, scrambling to get her attention and to admire her beauty but she's not in the mood for a scene so she's done her best to subdue her allure so she can move freely and observe. in another time of her life, she would love the attention. it feeds her and her magic in a way, to have thousands of admirers all fighting over her. but not now, she's enjoying pretending to be nobody, just another face in a large crowd where no one knows her name or her story.​

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besides, being the goddess of love is much more lonely than one would think. to have men and women always fighting for her attention, people killing each other for her affections, to be idolized. the younger version of her loved the drama, the fight, the love and idol hood. but aphrodite now, in the twentieth century, is just happy to pretend to live in the same world as them, to blend in. though, that doesn't meant she doesn't have her fun. occasionally she'll meddle in the romantic lives of the humans around her as she moves between them, pairing some up, breaking others apart, whatever feels right, whatever the magic leads her to.​

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the blonde is distracted by a particularly disgruntled couple, the resentment between the two radiating so strongly that she immediately turns and stumbles directly into a man. aphrodite immediately grabs onto his arm so she doesn't tumble over and make a fool of herself, and lifts her head to look at the man. he's tall, much more than herself, with broad shoulders and admirable muscles if the arm she's gripping onto tells her anything. he's also has dark blonde hair, the lightest bit of stubble, and a jawline that would put adonis to shame. something she would actually know because they had quite the lustrous affair following the years after ares disappeared from olympus.​

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starting to open her mouth, she promptly shut in, tilting her head in questioning as she stares openly at his face. there's something ... off about this human. actually, now that she's noticed it, he's decidedly not human. with humans, they're all the same but gods - they have this air to them, almost like a warning. whoever this is is certainly powerful, and incredibly angry. aphrodite not only possesses a love type magic, but she's extremely sensitive to emotions and energy. she believes the humans would refer to it as an 'empath' or something similar. whatever god - possibly a child of a god? hidden within the mortals - this is, he's incredibly anger and bitter. he's experienced a great tragedy, likely a romantic one, that he still harbors. the sadness, anger, and resentment hang on him like a cloak, fully enveloping him.​

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even if it wasn't for his godly aura, there's something incredibly familiar to her that she can't quite place. she runs a mental checklist of the gods in her head and none of them quite fit him. the closest she can think of would be ares, just from the way his energy feels to her but - ares is gone, he's been gone for thousands of years and it's unlikely she would find him randomly in the mortal world. aphrodite learned to quit chasing that dream centuries ago. ares was ... special, but she locked those memories up in the back of her mind so she didn't lose her grip on reality. holding onto him just caused her anguish. he was gone and she had learned to accept that.​

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back to the subject at hand, she realizes that she's still gripping his arm and slowly releases him, taking back her arm but not moving. blue eyes scan his face, trying desperately to figure out why he feels so familiar to her. her best guess is that he's the child of some olympian, likely from one of zeus's whores, who hid him amongst the mortals so hera wouldn't kill him. aphrodite respects hera, she feels like something of a motherly figure to her, but the woman's jealously rivals her own and she can't quite blame her. zeus is a pig, he'll sleep with almost anything. and hera - she deserves better than that, god of gods as a husband be damned. it's then she realizes that he's getting irritated, lips curling into a scowl as she stands in front of him and stares him down, lost in her thoughts. hmm, not only angry, but impatient too.​

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finally, she breaks her silence. "who are you?" ​

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