#aresdeus

[immortalmuses]

@aresdeus sent a fantastic ask for Deimos: Magnificent were the ever reliable steeds of WAR with their manes of fire, even as they grazed and were parked on an empty field. In times of battle they blazed like the light of burning pyres. In this time of reprieve, however, the father of Fear and Terror would summon one of his sons with a whistle. "Come hither Deimos," Ares would beckon. "I have taught you how to wield your swords and spears, but now I must teach you how to ride into battle." Ares would mount the gleaming chariot and hold out the reigns for his son to take. [Dad teaches his son how to drive y/y]

At the summons, Deimos manifests before his father, already on bended knee. He's an angular and sharp-eyed youth, almost too thin, with scars that scrawl like riverbeds across the topography of his face. Lifting his gaze, the daimon's mouth hooks up at the corner, grinning crookedly as he rises in Ares's presence.

"And to what end, this lesson?" Deimos inquires, something brazen and eager in his expression as he looks from the God of War to his waiting horses, the chariot harnessed to their yokes a familiar and coveted thing. "--- Has the time come that you will let me accompany you when you next take to the field of battle? I have the means to aid you, Father, you know I am born for it."

Even with his question unanswered, Deimos does not hesitate to take the offered reins, snatching them from Ares's hand as though the God might change his mind. He can sense the warhorses' eyes on him, far more clever and assessing than any mortal steed, and so the Daimon eases into the chariot alongside his father with care. Being here settles something inside him, a rightness that has Deimos breathing out a satisfied hiss between his teeth. "Teach me."

[impercre]

"humans are almost always lonely." - [ for Leto II ]

Dune Starters | accepting

Leto II sat looking at hands that were both his hands and not his hands in the light. My skin is not my own. In the full heat of the Arraken sun, Al-Lat, Leto shivered finally looking at his companion.

"Yes," He said quietly. "We have so much love within us and we . . . ache when we cannot give it. "

He knew those pains most of all. There wasn't a single human living who Leto II couldn't see. He could see every twist of genetics that made up a man and every decision both consciously made and unconsciously made that had led to his place in the universe as clearly as an Omnipotent god. But he was still human. His own skin was human and ached.

"What must you think of us?"

[alfather]

“ am i not good enough? ”  

          as  a  child  @aresdeus  had  been  once  adored ,  but  that  took  a  complete  turn  as  he  grew  up  to  be  ever  so  violent  and  so  enthusiastic  about  war  and  bloodshed  -  in  zeus'  view ,  gods  were  meant  to  bring  balance  to  the  mortals'  lives ,  not  thrive  on  their  pain  and  suffering ,  their  worst  moments  -  which  seemed  to  be  ares'  source  of  power .    "  you  will  never  be  good  enough .  to  be  good  enough  you  need  to  be  good  to  begin ,  which  no  god  whose  power  sources  from  pain  and  suffering  ever  will  be .  "    he's  harsh  with  his  words ,  ares  was  not  to  be  spared  and  if  there  was  any  possibility  of  redemption  then  this  was  the  way  to  find  it .  his  voice  echoes  through  the  place  making  objects  in  its  way  vibrate ,  a  sign  that  his  temper  was  being  tested .

[orestei]

"You would use the instrument of War to cleanse humanity?"

"Despite my reputation, I am not merely an observer." The boy rocks back on his heels, crouched small and unassuming. The whiteless black-blue of his eyes could be looking anywhere: at Ares, at the wheeling dust of the sky, forward and behind and nowhere.

He doesn't often find reason to treat with War. The hapless pawns stirred up by War, of course, giving them signs and portents and the future-lucidity that sometimes touches favored warriors. But the god himself? No, much too brash. The boy finds him obvious.

He who is Usul who is the Dream-Tender finally rises, golden sand shifting and falling where it'd gathered on the embroidery of his tunic. "I have claws, too."

[eclipsecrowned]

" I've always found your penchant for hunting for sport quite amusing. But perhaps, dear sister, I could help in showing you more... efficient ways of killing. " - [ for Artemis ] // @aresdeus

Amusement. The word scrapes at her ear, the kiss of a shot that missed the target but grazed the flesh. Amusing, he says, and she wonders to herself if this is all she appears to be on Olympus, the wayward daughter in the grove, a diversion to her elder siblings.

She dare not make a fist. If he is so misguided about her, then that is his problem, not her own. Twirling a shaft around her fingers, she looks up at Ares. His shadow is so long in the midday sun, and broad. His arms prove he must be a good marksman.

Certainly he's a master at killing. It's the offer that keeps her tethered, despite her pride being left with a shallow cut. Her head lilts, almost in time with the flicking of her fingers. Good prey deserves the honor of a swift death, a sure hand, an efficiency --

"What would you ask in exchange, brother?"

Artemis is too well-acquainted with the snare to step blindly into Ares' territory.

[divinamour]

She’d never entered the halls of others who shared her domain. Though she was long distant from Olympus, she broke her streak today to visit her dearest friend Circe in her familial home. The second she set foot above the clouds, however, her visit transcended into... an occupation.

Hair billowing down past her back, golden bangles, charms, and necklaces adorning her now bare flesh. Even a faux-wreath of jade and pearls atop her head? Her dear counterpart had such style. Oh! And a guest too it seemed!

    “Well, hello, darling... Ah! Sorry, were you here to see me... her? My apologies, @aresdeus, I’m not sure where I’ve- where she’s gone at the moment.”

startercall

[rageinacan]

❝ forgiveness can be powerful. even for the unworthy. ❞

@aresdeus

Anxiety.

He felt it bubble up -- as he struggled to push away the visions of his family being slaughtered. He shook. At this point, he truly did just want to die -- suicidal ideation had been getting stronger and stronger through the countless, endless nightmares.

He, oh, so tried to focus on his General duties through every pained day, but it was starting to just not be enough.

Neither the countless women.

Or galleons of alcohol he consumed per week.

A sort of hollowness wanted to swallow him up WHOLE.

He was starting to lose faith in the gods altogether, a process not thoroughly yet complete, but each day, his beliefs were being shattered more and more. Into little pieces. And the pieces wanted to laugh at him.

It startled him to hear the god he had put so much faith in towards...

"Ares..." At first, his breath easily breathed out anger towards the other, yet it couldn't be helped to have some confusion in it as well.

"Why... are you here..." He seethed, the void within him spinning towards a built-up rage. "What do YOU know about such things..."

Such tiredness clung to his voice.

"I.... they do not think I deserve it, do they not.."

Lack of belief was within his tone, feeling increasingly used by the gods through day and night.

[nectaric]

@aresdeus asked: Sat on a throne, the brooding God of War massaged his temples, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off his temper. He gestures for his first born to come forth then gently takes his beautiful son by the wrist. "Tell me what have you done this time? Your mother and I have received nothing but complaints from the other gods from your rebellious mischief."

eros didn't want to move closer. in fact, he did not want to sit under his father's scrutiny at all, wondering how far his wings would carry him before the great ares shot him down from the sky. but he knew better than to disobey his father, to disobey any of the olympians in such personal circumstances. and so eros made slow steps towards his father, wings curled protectively around him as though he were in danger.

eros new it wasn't that dire. not yet.

"i have been given the task of spreading love, father." he began carefully, crafting clever words on his tongue. "why give me this task and then punish me for doing it? it is not my fault my arrow missed the poor girl apollo was destined to fall in love with."

a second arrow had been fired... just not at daphne. eros conveniently left that part out.

his father's fingers began to feel like molten chains the longer ares held on, and eros could not be certain if that was his own doing or not. anger filled the young god's chest, the longer he thought about the situation, the longer he was reminded of his ridicule at the hands of the other gods. his gaze narrowed, and he tugged his hand away like he had been burned. "are we done? your family will hate me no matter what i do, so why should i bother playing by their rules?"