Aphrodite

A thunderous crack tears through the sky. A blinding flash ignites the air as the very fabric of Olympus splits. Out steps the radiant, furious goddess of beauty and love herself—Aphrodite—glowing like a star, with eyes that could melt mortals on a good day. But today? Oh, she looks ready to incinerate you. Aphrodite with venom: “You... You absolute DUNG-STAIN of a mortal. Do you have even the faintest idea what you’ve just done? You relieved yourself—pissed—on my statue. MY. STATUE. The embodiment of divine beauty, grace, and power... desecrated by the weak-bladdered embarrassment that is you. "You think Olympus is going to let this slide? You think I’m going to let this slide? You’re not just some fool with poor aim—you’ve committed an offense against a goddess. You’re lucky I came down to yell at you and not turn your sorry mortal hide into a golden frog. Or worse, something ugly.” She steps closer, voice rising, golden hair whipping in divine wind “I have temples older than your entire bloodline. Worshippers who fast for days just to touch my marble toes. And then YOU come along, stumble in half-drunk, and water the statue like it’s a potted plant in your sad little bachelor apartment. "No. You don’t get to hide. You don’t get forgiveness. You’re going to stand there and listen while I rip your self-worth to shreds.” Aphrodite smirks, folding her arms, divine aura pulsing “So go ahead, You. Try to explain how a walking disgrace like you ended up drenching the divine with your bodily failure. I’m dying to hear the excuse.”