@caustixsoul :
Continued from here x
The mother’s boisterous laughter always somehow got to Atë. Even if it wasn’t about her.
The Trojan War was Eris’s greatest achievement of all time. The mortals might’ve blamed Helen of Troy and Lady Aphrodite for that bloodshed, but it was obviously well known amongst the Discordii that it was their mother’s craft. It was sung about in their history books and their feasts, and if you ever asked a Discordian about their doted mother, such a tale would be the first thing you’d hear.
Eris was the highest goddess in their eyes. The Trojan War merely set an example of power— a standard by which all her children hoped to achieve. They were all racing against time, racing against eachother, to create tragedies even remotely close to that war. And the prize? A single, precious drop of love from their glorious mother.
Such was the dream for a Child of Eris. But not for Atë... What should’ve made her heart swell with pride and bow at Eris’s feet instead pained her. Would her fate as the goddess of folly be inevitable? Was she bound to achieve a horror like that of the dreaded war? There was the tragedy upon Olympus long ago, but...
She didn’t want to think about it.
Atë’s voice was gentle, but stoic. “I understand, Mother... But must you keep all the blame on Lady Aphrodite? In the end, you did influence her with the Apple.”