fight me

Ares. God of war. Adulterer. Bouncer. Underground fighter. Midnight toker.

[battlclust-blog]

cyprisoflove:

Gods, damn him. And damn Cypris himself, for falling so easily for men with pretty shapes and the people who loved themselves most. Ares was exemplary of such a choice he had made.

Yet, he found himself smiling, head tilted as he listened. He was good at making the situation different, not like he was a new person, not like he wasn’t Aphrodite anymore, or like the goddess of love had changed. There were times that it was helpful that someone just didn’t care. 

“I’m worn out by trying to catch up with all of the Olympians just to let them know, hey, by the way, Hephaestus’s wife is a man and also they’re not married anymore and blah blah gossip,” Cypris laughed, unfazed by even the crude things that fell from the other’s lips. “But, no, I…I suppose I was nervous, seeing you. I expected something…different. But I love it, like this, I’ve never felt so free, like this was how it was always meant to be.”

“I’d apologize that you secretly slept with a man for a while, but something tells me you don’t care.”

To be blunt, Ares didn’t give a shit what Aphrodite looked like, and he was somewhat shocked that she had any sort of alternative experience. It was so easy to be judgmental, Ares thought to himself, but why bother? He listened to Aphrodite’s description with his eyebrows furrowed. And in one sentence, the god went through an array of emotions.

Anger and possessiveness at the reminder that Aphrodite was married to Hephaestus. Relief and smugness that they were no longer married. Strange, to feel so damned possessive even after all of this time.

“Different? Like… violent? Abhorrent? Judgmental? That would be pathetic of me, and an utter weakness, and that is something that isn’t me.” Ares meandered into the kitchen to retriever his glass and he took a sip before offering it to Aphrodite. “I’m glad you feel more like yourself. And no, you’re right. I don’t care. I would be a terrible Greek if I cared.”

Certainly, Ares would always feel a slight pang of desire for the form of his old lover, but the spirit of the goddess of love was still alive and well. Must be, for Ares to feel such a draw anyway.

“I was on my way to work. I can call in sick, or you’re welcome to come. I’ve got a fight afterwards. Love to have you there.” But then, a slight pause. A curious tilt of the head, as though he were a puppy and not a god. “You still go by Aphrodite?”

[battlclust-blog]

cyprisoflove:

That was fast. Very fast, in fact, and for a moment, Cypris wanted to dig his nails in the doorway, ask for a redo of the situation in the hopes that he could understand what had happened. But that was acceptance, whether genuine or not, and he allowed himself to be pulled in, fingers running through his dark curls.

“Evening to you too, Ares,” he breathed, adjusting the lengths of his sleeves. What a lavish home, he thought idly, glimpsing around the space. It was almost embarrassing to think of his own apartment in comparison, however homey it was, barely finished being painted and scarcely the size of one room here.

“I’m surprised I’m alive as well,” he tried then, laughing awkwardly. “I came to, ah, give you the news…but it seems you’ve taken it in stride.”

Ares couldn’t help the smile that eased over his lips. There was something almost self-conscious about the way Aphrodite was moving. Aphrodite tugged his sleeves down, dragged fingers through his hair, and even his breath was soft. Ares was amused, and yet slightly disconcerted.

He shut the door after his former lover and slipped his hands to his waist, vain and showing off the fact that he had no lasting physical discrepancies.

“What news?” Ares pressed, eyebrows knitting. “The news that you’ve got a new body? I kind of like it. Feels like there’s a new pretty thing in my arms.” Leave it to Ares to make a sweet situation crude. “You seem a little worn out by it. Nervous, maybe? Can’t put my finger on it, but you should cope. You’re hot, Dite. Always have been, always will be.”

[scottmccaall]

[battlclust-blog]

In the ring.

[battlclust-blog]

cyprisoflove:

@battlclust

Perhaps it was wrong of him, after all this time, to hunt Ares down. Perhaps it was wrong to not have called Heph first, even for a little bit of a talk down from what almost felt like a suicidal action, but what was he if not impulsive?

Sweater drooping off himself in the pseudo-light of the Vegas nights, he favoured the breeze with his cheek, brow furrowing as he stared down the door of the grandiose house before him. He supposed Ares had never been one for humility, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to.

Swallowing down his pride, then, he bit down on his bottom lip, knuckles rapping the door and wet palms clenching tightly with his nerves.

Ares was never one to mince words or actions. He preferred resplendence to humility, and now that he finally had a place worthy of his tastes, Ares had finally unpacked. He was fresh off of a fight the previous night, as the bruises on his body and their spidery roots showed, and he felt alive. He loved the feeling of the ache as he showered, preparing for his shift running security for the strip club. He rubbed into the pain even more, reminding himself that he was alive, if not a glutton for the violence.

Towel wrapped around his waist, he whistled as he slipped into the kitchen and poured himself a drink -- he could thank Dionysus for that later, and would -- and sipped the amber bourbon as his fingers worried his hair.

Which was when he heard the knock on the door.

Ares hadn’t bothered installing a doorbell. There were very few modern conveniences he actually liked, at the sound of a doorbell was one of the many things he despised. He didn’t bother clothing himself before he made his way to the door and pried it open.

There was something close to familiarity. Something just slightly on about the individual behind the door. Ares tipped his head in near confusion, eyebrows knitting slightly. And then it hit him. Suddenly, out of the blue. “Holy... well, I’ll be damned.” A bark of a laugh escaped his lips before he stepped forward to take Aphrodite in his arms. “Figured they’d have killed you by now. Glad they didn’t. Come on, come on...” He stepped away from the other man and held his arm out in beckoning. “In, before I flash the neighbors.”

[battlclust-blog]

Ares, lip busted open and bruises already beginning to spider across his cheekbone and jaw, felt like new. Contentment came in different forms for everyone, but perhaps none so odd as the satisfaction Ares got from the spoils of war. No, maybe one-to-one combat wasn’t quite the destruction that Ares craved, but it was close enough for now.

He’d let the “other guy” in the ring live.

It wasn’t out of any sort of mercy. Ares, frankly, didn’t know the meaning of the word. But the blood-boiling former god felt exhilarated by the adrenaline thumping from the fight, and he wanted to fight the bastard who gave him a run for his proverbial money again.

The ex-god dabbed his lip to stop the bleeding, then glanced over at the other next to him, smiling, cheeks flushed from excitement. “Not sure if your money was on me or not, but it should have been.”

[bruceswaynes]

[battlclust-blog]

baragods:

Myths: Ares - The Greek god of war. He is one of the Twelve Olympians, and the son of Zeus and Hera. In Greek literature, he often represents the physical or violent and untamed aspect of war. In appearance, Ares was handsome and cruel. He is often depicted carrying a bloodstained spear.