Aphrodite paced the columns again, probably for the hundredth time.
“Do you have any special talents?” She asked.
Asyran folded his wiry sun-spotted arms, thinking. The agrarian god’s thinking face made Aphrodite think of a beast of burden chewing cud. He was neither ruggedly handsome like Herkules, nor suavely seductive like Hypnos. Standing there, ruminating over the question, he truly did resemble one of his divine herd– well bred, but utterly uninspiring.
Finally he answered. “I can coax the meanest bull to come back from the pasture.”
She tsked. “That’s not a talent. That’s your job.”
The tanned farmer’s eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. “I suppose you’re right.”
“What about wealth? I bet you have a trove to rival Croseus!” It was difficult to keep her patronizing tone in check. This man truly needed her help, afterall. She owed it to him to at least try to find him a suitable match.
He shook his head. “I’ve got a goodly head of sheep and oxen. My herds are their own wealth, or so my worshippers tell me.”
The goddess felt a twinge of pity for him. Not every god could be as beguiling as Dionysus. Still, it would not do for a god of the Pantheon to go mate-less, even if he was a hairy, soft-spoken farmer. Perhaps a change of approach would yield better results. “What is it that you would like in your mate, my dear?”
The mess of tight brown curls bounced as he cocked his head. “Well,” he began slowly, and his thinking face returned.
Aphrodite resumed her pacing. This could take a while.
This little sprint is probably the shortest bit I’ve written in a while, so it’s definitely not a full-fledged story, but just a little blurb to get my writer brain flowing for the day. It was a fun little idea to think about and might come back to it in the future, because I have a soft spot for farmers. <3