So this appeared in my writing yesterday. I was half-aware while writing it but seeing it still makes me go “bwuh?” All rights reserved.
Arista opened her eyes to find herself in her bed, looking up at a beautiful fresco on the ceiling. It depicted the seduction of Curette, the God of Love who had boasted that no girl was able to hold his attention for long. It was words that he was soon to eat. She turned her eyes towards the rugged older-looking man on the right. He was tired and exhausted, and soon he and the chipper young-looking God would get into an arguement.
There were funnier ways to start a relationship than with an argument.
Well-played, ladies, well-played.