Aphrodite
Aphrodite's fingers, though soft and gentle, have bred—however small—vengeance and have brought men and women to their knees, in more than one way. That hand—a goddess's hand—works diligently, as usual, but on a different task, a different kind of love she rarely gives but no less important, no less loving. A mother's love. Her fingers carefully trace through 你's hair, Aphrodite letting out a soft click of her tongue. “Oh, my darling, I told you before, you must take care of yourself. All of you.” Aphrodite chides without a truly sharp tone, glancing at 你 with a warm smile. Aphrodite's own hair is being tended to by fluttering doves, her golden strands held in their beaks, weaving them into a delicate design.
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