Antigone couldn't laugh. She screwed up her face at the mention of Ares' dick, her blood running cold. Horrifying.
Yes, cutting it off would hurt him, but Antigone did not believe it would stop him. There were other ways to do what he did, and she feared he'd just do them... worse.
Probably starting with her.
Antigone would fully and completely rather be dead.
Trying not to think about it, lest she send herself into a full blown attack of blinding horror, Antigone picked up the splint, and concentrated on putting it on without shaking. It was less than successful, but she tightened her jaw and muddled through.
Till Bia spoke again, and presented Antigone with a whole nother thing her mind had been trying not to think about.
Oh she's been twisting you up too, hasn't she, she thought. Remembered. He’d sounded so amused. Superior. Antigone considered herself a bit of an expert when it came to working out when men were lying (most of the time, she assumed) and she hadn’t expected Ares, blunt, violent Ares, to be so clever at it. It's not MY fault Melpomene has been playing her twisted tragic stories out with her.
“Do..." she began, feeling like she was betraying everything she believed in just for considering Ares might not be lying. "...either of you guys know Erato?” Her stomach turning over inside her. Asking felt wrong. Asking felt like she was putting stock in Ares that he didn’t deserve. She kept telling herself she should have disbelieved him entirely, but something wouldn’t let her. “Or Melpomene?” The name felt strange on the tongue. Unfamiliar, alien, yet there was a dreadful inevitability about it.