Nuwa raises her bow.. and slits her brother’s throat. There’s not much resistance given that he’s so heavily wounded already. She sends soothing and comforting thoughts over to him. He reaches a hand out for Aphrodite, but it doesn’t land true. Instead, the blood spurting from his arteries starts to paint her naked body red. Hopping off his dying body, Nuwa mournfully watches the Styx whisk him back home.

“You ruined it!” shouts Aphrodite hatefully. Nuwa turns her attention back to her cruel Mistress. The two ladies stand eye-to-eye with only an arms length gap between them. Even with all her Dao Strings back, Nuwa is in no mood to fight. She feels like shit.

Nuwa’s tear-stained face immediately turns wrathful, “How dare you make me do that to my own brother?! I never tried to force Ares to fall in love with me like you tried to do with Zag! I simply defeated him the only way I could and I did it to prove to him and myself that I am powerful enough to one day stand on the same level as the Gods!”

“Hoo?” Aphrodite’s anger abates slightly upon seeing Nuwa so riled up. She raises her hand, pats Nuwa’s cheek mockingly, and sarcastically mimics her voice, “I want to be as strong as the Gods.. wah wah wahhh.” She sneers and declares, "Ares is mine!"

Letting out a sigh of frustration and fatigue, Nuwa delivers a monologue without holding anything back, “I hoped to the heavens that you would have a little understanding, but I guess I was wrong! You may be beautiful, but your character is rotten. I really pity you. Just kill me and send me home. Looking at you is a constant reminder of who I used to be.. a selfish bitch who cared for nothing but mysel-”

Aphrodite’s hand, which has lowered to Nuwa’s throat, blocks out any further speech. Her expression is that of a maniacally angry demon as she puts her other hand on Nuwa’s neck as well. Before Aphrodite can come back to her senses, she constricts the already stretchy neck a little too far and snaps the spine.

Her apprentice is dead. The Styx comes to claim Nuwa as well. There’s no one anymore. Aphrodite still has more anger to vent! She falls to her knees and punches the ground where the blood portaled her victims away. She punches and punches. Her face, previously angry, contorts into sadness and pain.

Tears fall unbidden from her eyes. Aphrodite sniffles her snot back and whimpers. Here in the unpopulated depths of the Underworld, far away from the judgmental gazes of those on Olympus, she cries. The fiery air and ground leaves no evidence. Her tears turn to steam soon after they land. At the top of her lungs now, she wails.

Pain, pain, go away! Come again another day! If only it is that easy.

Hearing footsteps nearby, she quickly turns her head and spots Hermes approaching her. He's the only Olympian able to move freely through the Underworld (except for Tartarus). She gets busy fixing herself up, trying to wipe off the blood on her skin and stifling the rest of her tears, but doesn’t get a chance to stand up. He places a hand on her back and says, “Hey Di. I know it’s part of your godhood, but you don’t have to look nice for me or anything. You know I don’t swing that way.”

Sniffing, Aphrodite mumbles, “I know.. I just..”

Hermes interrupts her, “I saw you were alone, so if you need a shoulder to cry on, you got me. There’s no one within two kilometers of this place, I already checked.”

She doesn’t usually show vulnerability to anyone, but this time, she takes his suggestion. Nodding gratefully, she slowly starts crying again and Hermes doesn’t say a word for the duration.

Aphrodite had so many expectations for finding a true friend in Nuwa. She had planned to show her around the Surface, go shopping, exchange gossip, and maybe even take her as a confidant. She’s used to being pitied by her acquaintances to the extent that it's expected, but when that pity comes from someone as similar to her as Nuwa.. it cuts deep.

She also gets the sense that Nuwa, though young, really has reformed her character, something Aphrodite has been trying to do for a long time. In this realm, polygamy is widespread, even at the level of the Gods. She knows that it is a testament to Ares’ character that he has not yet strayed. Her other lover, Dionysus, has orgies with men and women all the time. In that case, it is part of his Godhood, and she doesn’t take it to heart, but Ares is a different case.

Nuwa does not understand how Love works like she does. Aphrodite knows that Ares could grow to love Nuwa as much as he loves her now. It is all a matter of watering that seed of interest he has for her now. Despite having Authority over Love, Aphrodite cannot snuff out these natural developments. Her Authority only allows her to sense it and magnify it, like she had tried to do with Zagreus. Overall, it’s a sad situation that even this piddling seed of appreciation for Nuwa in Ares sends her spiraling into jealousy, rage, and self-doubt.

The waterworks only lasts for ten minutes. Part of what cheers her up is how much effort Hermes has to exert to stand still and keep quiet. One of his godhoods is Travel, so he constantly fidgets whenever he tries to stay in the same place. He's also a talkative person, so he’s clearly holding back. She appreciates his consideration and presence. He could have easily ignored her and she never would have known he saw her.

Sensing that her divine projection is about to disperse, Aphrodite brings up the topic plaguing her, “Brother-in-law, am I a selfish bitch?”

Hermes nearly jumps. He jokes back, “Can birds fly?”

“Yes. So.. your answer is yes.” She says softly, as if answering her own question.

Slightly confused, Hermes is not quite sure if that is or isn’t what he meant. It had just come out. An obvious question in response to an equally obvious question. Then again, some birds are flightless.

Aphrodite looks into the distance and says, to herself more than to Hermes, “I’m going to try again to change. If she can do it, so can I.” She then poofs. With a shrug, Hermes flies away back to his work.

~ ~ ~

From Zina's point of view, Phoenix Village looks like more of a city than a village, at least in size if not technological advancement. The infrastructure appears crude at first glance, but the more she sees, the more practical and minimalist it looks. The place has wooden and unpainted houses, giving it a pleasing rustic aesthetic. Most of all, it lacks the stench she usually associates with rural living back home.

In the center of the village is a large marble sculpture of a majestic fiery bird. Zina doesn’t get a good look at it since they descend far from the town square. It could just be how much it stands out against the other buildings, but even from afar, she feels drawn to it. ‘The Vermillion Bird of legends?’

Rio swoops into a hangar where several people are waiting to receive them. He comes to a stop, allowing Zina to finally release her overly extended hold on the bamboo poles. Three wrinkled elderly women stand before them. They wear finely colored fabric that is long enough to wrap many times over their bodies and they all wear it in a similarly exacting style. All three have sharp features and gray or white hair, but only the one in the center has the same golden eyes as Rio.

He bows and says deferentially, “Greetings, Elders.”

The tall and spindly Elder that stands in the center steps forward and states, “Good work, Rio. Off with you now.”

He nods and heads to a nearby equipment room, along with his subordinates.

Nervous to be left alone with so many strangers, Zina shouts to him, “Wait!”

To her disbelief and fury, he ignores her entirely.

The three elderly ladies approach her curiously.

“So this one is Zina?”

“She doesn’t look like anything special.”

“Ladies, settle down. Let’s bring her to our room.”

Zina’s skin crawls at how they treat her more like an object than a person when she’s right in front of them. She doesn’t dare to complain though. The aura each old woman gives off is subdued, but dense. Far deeper than anything she had felt from Mother Azula or Grandpa Iroh. It simultaneously frightens and excites her to sense such depths of power. Soon, they bring her to a lightly furnished meeting room.

The short Elder with a hunchback flicks a switch, and abruptly all the ambient sounds from outside are completely cut off. The tall elder, this one muscular, upon noticing Zina’s confusion is the first to speak to her directly, “For privacy.”

The tall and spindly one, who appears to wield the most authority among the three, then addresses Zina as well, “Remove all your clothes, girl.”

“What?! Wh-.. No!” Zina cannot keep her silence anymore. What a baffling request. Demeaning to boot. She doesn’t know these people.

The short one states blandly, “She has a lot to learn.”

The Elder with golden eyes takes several steps towards Zina. With each step closer that she comes, Zina feels the air becoming progressively harder to breathe in and out. Eventually, it is as slow moving as syrup when the Elder is before her. Zina hyperventilates, attempting to gasp for breath yet unable to take in enough oxygen.

The Elder circles her leisurely, “Phoenix Village is tasked with the retention of ancestral values. The Oral History passes them down as such: Balance. Order. Obedience. Breeding. Integrity. Excellence. Self-discipline.”

Zina falls to her knees wheezing. She really wants to kill that idiot, Rio, for daring to say he’ll keep her safe and then walk away!

“Your breeding is not up to par.” The Elder continues in a snippy tone, “That will be rectified in good time. However, your lack of obedience is a serious problem!”

“O.. kay, I.. get it.” Zina manages to gasp out. The pressure recedes and she takes long, deep breaths of air. These damned old women are mean!

Swallowing her bitterness, she gets up and reluctantly removes her clothes. When they’re all off, she shyly covers her modest B cup breasts and crotch with each arm. The golden-eyed Elder raises the arm Zina is using to cover her chest and traces her fingers along the growing feathers. She presses a point near Zina’s inner elbow and the feathers involuntarily burst into flames.

Zina yelps a little and tries to pull her arm away, but it's held too firm. Then she realizes that her fire doesn't affect her captor at all. Entirely ignoring her fingers’ presence in the fire, the Elder plucks out a single feather before releasing the arm.

Zina hisses lightly at the sting of losing a feather and immediately puts out the fire on her arm. She turns to see the Elder holding her still burning feather. The other Elders approach it too. Together, they inhale the fumes and.. from what Zina can tell.. they seem to derive some measure of euphoria from doing so. ‘What in blazes is going on here?’

(A/N: Bonus points to whoever can find what’s sus about the Oral History :D)