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Triantafyllia walked towards the place of offering to honor the goddess, Aphrodite. Renowned for her beauty beyond compare and titled the goddess of love, it was hard not to be enchanted with her. And she had been since she was a tiny child, a fact that terrified her parents. They thought that she would be wild when they had longed for a docile daughter. They thought that she would be promiscuous and wouldn't that destroy their reputation? They thought too much and she was tired of it. She pious and kind, shy even. Whatever it would take for them to trust her enough to allow her visit to the festival.

She was dressed in white—it was a dingy white as she was still working class, but it was the best she could do. The basket she had woven herself was filled with items that the goddess was said to love, to embody. She hoped it was enough. No one had ever said how to gain the favor of Aphrodite.

A red rose she had picked herself to symbolize the emotions that love inspired. A pure white swan feather and an imperfect ocean pearl were placed upon the altar to represent the goddess's overwhelming beauty. She'd brought a cloth of the most luxurious pink that she could afford and dipped it in the seafoam of the ocean to give due to deity's birth. A golden apple—a ceramic replica was placed to agree with the title of most beautiful that the goddess had fairly won. And finally a locket shaped like a scalloped seashell filled with pomegranate seeds to plant and grow love and lust and all that the goddess might desire her followers to feel.

"O Goddess, I bring this bounty to ask for a boon. I have long admired you and wished to serve your grace. I devote myself to you and promise to follow your desires. Please, bless me to be one of your priestesses."

It was likely her only chance to ever to close to Aphrodite. She was not beautiful, far from it. She was plain. Far too plain to have ever succeeded at being promiscuous as her parents feared. There was nothing remotely eye catching about her. Not with her brown hair that resisted all attempts at styles and was only tamed into a braid out of necessity. Nor even with brown eyes that no one wanted. Even as the statues and art of the goddess portrayed brown locks, everyone talked as if she was blond with blue eyes. Nothing like Triantafyllia.

She kept her head bowed and waited. She breathed and repeated the prayer. Repeated it. She was determined and would not leave until they dragged her out. Hopefully, it would not come to that. Please, Aphrodite, hear me. Give me a chance.

Aikaterini was not just any hoi— no, she was something else. Something rare, precious, and beautiful. She knew it, and, as far as she was concerned, so did the rest of the world. She was used to the attention and stares; it’d be an odder day if a head didn’t turn when she prowled through the town. Her pledging to Aphrodite came with its benefits, but it also came with a price, one taking the shape of her current pilgrimage that so rudely interrupted her plans.

You see, Aikaterini was not pure, as her name meant. She was neither kind nor loving, despite the facade she kept up so perfectly. She’d like others to think she was, and she was inclined to believe she did a good job acting the part, but Aikaterini was none of these things. Underneath that well-groomed and kept smile was a numb and haughty ego that believed she truly was owed the attention and adoration thrown at her feet, she just couldn’t get it if she didn’t act the part. Unfortunately, the world had rules, and one of them was to pretend at least you were humble about your blessings. She was not, truthfully, but here she was, smile kept prettily on her face despite the strange, twisted horn in her mouth, traversing towards the second rule of the world she had to abide by: provide offerings to the Goddess who clearly had favored you since the day you were brought unto this world.

She had waited patiently for the humans to finish their puttering by the altar before graciously taking her turn, eyes fluttering in a mock pretense of modesty when their eyes dragged across her in admiration. Yes yes, admire her, she was oh so pretty. Once alone, truly alone, she set her eyes on the altar and delicately placed down the cold, glowing horn onto its stone top.



With a sigh, she settled neatly, dragging her long, wisp-like tail around herself. “It has been a while, Aphrodite,” she finally spoke, casting a glance to the sky before flitting back to examine her offering.

Oh, how beautiful the owner of that very horn had once been.
Not as beautiful as her, but, well…

”I bring to you the horn of my most recent lover— the one I had asked you to find for me.” Her tail snapped, flicking a leaf disdainfully from beside her hoof. “Just like the last one, he died.”

She cut off abruptly, disappointment seeping through her bones. They always died, as if she was as cursed as she was blessed. She couldn’t even remember how many that made it now, but the ritual had to continue. She always offered something of her last “love” to Aphrodite, and in return, she’d find another heart so eagerly ready to fawn over every word and request she had. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, and she wasn’t going to change the rules anytime soon. She'd keep playing if it pleased Aphrodite— as she assumed it must. How else was she so easily finding these lost souls?

”Thank you for all you have done for me, and I hope to live to see another festival in your name.”