Andromache knew she was not a god. She had been birthed by a woman who had scorned her and attempted her murder, though it had been impossible. Now she was having quite another turn of fate. Since she seemed impossible to kill, she had a temple built in her honor, and she was given virgins.

They would stay with her in the temple and this was permissible for weeks at a time, even after they had reached that month’s menses, or “the time of the blood” as was said or implied then.

At the time of the blood they were still hers, and Andy could have them any way that she wished. She was gentle, unless they did not want her to be gentle, and they allowed her many things, even painting them in their own blood, her fingers inside them on tender flesh, pulling blood forth. They would feel it settle on their skin and know they were marked by her.

The goddess who knew she was no such thing.

She would not be the one to throw rocks at women, and so she was gentle then, in her early days, when she was forever sated in their presence.