After the well of tears had emptied, Aphrodite had drawn herself up from the floor to ring for Carolina. Both shared the baths, silent save for the rush and splash of water and the breathing of those who attended them. All that needed to be said had been said, and Aphrodite rose from the water to be oiled and anointed with the scent of roses at first blush, watching silently as Carolina was led to be dressed by the others.
The rest dismissed, the goddess sat alone to do her makeup. Brushes and paints employed to masterfully hide shadows and augment features that would blind observers to what lay beneath the mask. She moved carefully as if mortally wounded, but never made a sound, her expression unchanging. Lipstick dried in a crimson swathe as if to seal her lips shut, and equally red curls were smoothed into a careful twist, tendrils tamed by fingers tipped in the same hue. The dress that waited on the bed also seemed dyed with blood, its folds shimmering with black to temper the garishness of that freshly spilled.
Males girded themselves in sheets of metal and leather thick enough to absorb blows meant to cleave them in half, but Aphrodite was no less armored. The heels of her stilettos were metal and her steps sure enough to leave sparks scattering in her wake as she swept down the hall, pausing only once to gather her companion. Their fingers entwined, Aphrodite closed her eyes and moved them through space, the swirling void ended all too soon as the walls of the Labyrinth formed around them, the door behind which Persephone dwelled within reach.
Mask firmly in place, Aphrodite rapped once then dropped her hand, touched when warm, human fingers sought her own once more and held fast to lend strength.