@christian y. › hephaestus。 Upon her entrance she was met with a soft amber glow that radiated from the petite bulbs that hanged from the ceiling, the closed space of their dining destination imitated something similar to a vintage painting of the renaisance, form the architecture of the walls to the painting that although new appeared the opposite, and the various pieces of paintings and structures that were hanged as decor.
And then, when her gaze fell on his broad and sturdy figure, when honey eyes met dark onyx orbs, she could’ve sworn she heard the rusty hands of the clock turn back, and she saw herself standing in the place where she had once been young and in love for the very first time. Yes, she was the very essence of love, but even as a goddess she had her flaws and mishaps. For Aphrodite her gift had been her curse, and for eons she had been desperate and too focused on the luxuries that Olympus had offered her that she lost sight of who she was and what her very existence had meant. She’d been wed to Hephaestus, and out of spite and daunting emotions she laid with many others and gave her body in to lust. But her heart? Not once. Many claimed her heart belonged to all those who felt love, and although partly true; her heart belonged to the one she’d marry, Aphrodite just didn’t quite know it yet.
Some could’ve disagreed with her, but in this very room filled with the crème de la crème of art work scattered around, Christian was definitely a masterpiece that caught her eyes and she could observe him all day, and yet, find something refreshing, even the smallest of intricate details and she’d be bewildered, enchanted even.
Her petite hand is cradled in his calloused one, and she welcomes the newfound warmth with a sincere and loving hum. “I’ve just arrived and you’re already showering me with sweet words and making me flustered darling” and oh was it true, and what a rare sight it was: the blush that adorned her cheeks and the twinkle that shone in her eyes.
@lalisa m. [] this is gonna be a t ad b i t s HOR TE R IM So RR y <333
Every step he took to the restaurant marked another thrum of his heart against his chest, but that same knot built in his throat as uncertainty flooded him to the brim. Perhaps it was because he hasn't seen her in millennia or that this had to be their longest stretch apart. Perhaps because if there was one pain he couldn't endure was not being enough for her, or being deemed unworthy. His nervousness had been plaguing him throughout the day, but he trusted the fates to not leave him in the dust this one time: of all the things that could have gone wrong, this was the only thing he didn't need to go wrong. The ONE thing, he prayed, wouldn't go wrong.
Time had never been an issue before but he fidgets and checks his chronograph wrist watch with every chance he gets; he happens to saunter into the restaurant a minute early, tugging at his cuffs to straighten the wrinkles from his white collared shirt, along with the century old, beautifully tailored double ed vest - he was escorted to the seat reserved for them off to the side, but within view of the front doors and he waves the waiter off, just this one time. He wanted to be the one to walk her over, when she would arrive, and Christian couldn't focus on anything but the idea of her appearing in the next few seconds.
His impatience got to the best of him, and the next minute felt like the longest he had ever lived, all because of the anticipation of course, but when he saw her, and his heart nearly jumped from his chest-- he takes in a small sharp gasp under his breath, trying to find the air that's been knocked from his lungs with the sight of her ethereal beauty. One foot after the other, he was drawn to her and offered a hand, and greets her with a breathless smile, "You make the night sky jealous with the way the stars wish to hang from your dress, my love." It all comes back, flooding into his being and all his senses as he reacquaints himself with the woman he knows as his wife.
@christian y. › hephaestus。 She had escaped the marbled walls and ceilings of Olympus, and ironically caged herself in a floating palace, claiming the latter as her safe haven of some sort. Even so, this magnificent little hotel had managed to quench in small doses the thirst for freedom and ‘renewal’ she had deeply desired for endless nights. Her gaze softened, honeyed orbs focusing their attention on the way the cerulean sky was tinted with an orange glow as the evening began to fade into the coming night, and at the scenic view she marveled she suddenly sighed and felt a tinge of nostalgia overcome her. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, loved and desired by many stood conflicted, confused and ironically enough, lonely. Pathetic, wasn’t she? In all her elegance and glory, she was trembled. Perhaps in loving too many she’d cursed herself, even for her the concept of love and what it meant to truly love and devote yourself to your soulmate was something abstract to grasp, and how could she when she had been just as guilty of giving up her once demure nature into the ardor of lust and so called romantic affairs? Oh, it was…
“…exquisitely painful, isn't it?”, she mused out loud, heaving yet another sigh before a firm knock brought her back from her daze. Clad in her evening gown, she pulled the velvety fabrics of her robe to a close with one hand, while the other reached for and opened her door. “Evening ma’am, we received word from a young fellow to deliver these to your room” the concierge spoke and presented her with a bouquet of vibrant, crimson tinted roses that could certainly compare to her own beauty- and oh, that sweet floral scent soon encased her very being. And really, what better gift was there for /the/ goddess of love and beauty than a bouquet of flowers?
“Oh my, and to who do I owe the honor?” She spoke, but her answer laid in a neatly folded card hidden within the plethora of blooming roses, where she gasped upon recognizing that hand writing that always struck her as unusual but unique.
And now, an hour later she dolled herself up, sunset colored locks were curled and cascaded along her back, and her slender figure clad in a dainty open back dress, one as black as night to contrast her fair complexion and rosy cheeks as she tried to conceal a grin but failed. A hand was laid atop her chest, where she fiddled with the golden pendant she wore and another held onto her dress, lifting it ever so slightly as she walked into the dim lit restaurant.