"Idiot!" she hissed after a while, and then closed her fist to punch the floor beneath her, hard enough that she felt the skin on some of her knuckles graze away and it echoed up her hand. "Idiot!"
Was she angry at herself for fighting back, or for not fighting back more?
She didn't even know.
Slowly Luna straightened up and tried to find something more peaceful within herself, but there was just the anger and the terror, all of it too much for her body to hold.
Luna had met a lot of terrible men in her life. She'd lived for five years in a terrible part of LA working as a prostitute: Luna knew what terrible violent men were like, knew that sometimes when you stood up to them it was worse.
But despite that, Luna always still stood up. Because the only other choice was curling up and letting helplessness take over. And that wasn't acceptable.
No. It was always better to have a broken nose than broken pride.
She pulled herself to her feet and glared at her reflection. She looked fine. Even though the side of her face felt like it was crushed and broken, there was no bruise there. Just a bit of redness.
Luna redid her makeup, clenching her teeth as she did.
Then she went back out to the gods, to refill their drinks without a word. She didn't look at Ares.