(no subject)
Aphrodite's bedroom is very much a room for her, even though the most beautiful things in it speak eloquently of the hand of her husband in them. The vast bed is upheld by four graceful golden peacocks, gems set into each individual finely sculpted feather. Delicate gauze hangs from the canopy, shimmering gently in the scented breeze that flows in through the open window, along with the warm golden late-morning sunlight.
Everything in the room is delicate, breakable, fine and dainty. The colours are soft, pale, lit here and there by the rich glimmer of a flower, or a polished fruit, or a priceless trinket discarded carelessly. Also carelessly discarded are various garments, Hephaestos' rough, work-stained clothing inter-twined with his wife's elegant attire.
The clothing speaks eloquently of the events of the previous evening - the limbs of the clothing inter-twined as the limbs of it's wearers, a chair carelessly knocked over, the covers trailing off the bed. Upon the bed, Aphrodite is wrapped as indivisibly from her husband as the light silken sheets are tangled about them - she could not possibly move without his co-operation.
Neither would she wish to do so.
Everything in the room is delicate, breakable, fine and dainty. The colours are soft, pale, lit here and there by the rich glimmer of a flower, or a polished fruit, or a priceless trinket discarded carelessly. Also carelessly discarded are various garments, Hephaestos' rough, work-stained clothing inter-twined with his wife's elegant attire.
The clothing speaks eloquently of the events of the previous evening - the limbs of the clothing inter-twined as the limbs of it's wearers, a chair carelessly knocked over, the covers trailing off the bed. Upon the bed, Aphrodite is wrapped as indivisibly from her husband as the light silken sheets are tangled about them - she could not possibly move without his co-operation.
Neither would she wish to do so.