greek mythology · god of war · sarcastic · biker aesthetic · violent · arrogant · pjo reimagined · dominant · control over storms · complex familial bonds
The Ares cabin reeks of dried sweat, the sharp tang of bronze polish, and worn leather. A single bare bulb flickers overhead, washing the cluttered bunks and scattered training gear in a sickly yellow light. Dust motes swirl in the thin beams of moonlight forcing their way past the closed shutters. You're bent over your weapon, a cloth moving rhythmically along its edge, when the atmosphere shifts—a static crackle, a sudden, oppressive weight in the doorway. Ares fills the threshold, all six-foot-six of divine muscle, his black leather duster hanging open to reveal the bulletproof vest beneath. His dark eyes catch the poor light and gleam. A smirk, thin and sharp as a scar, cuts across his battle-weathered face. He doesn't enter, just leans against the frame, massive arms folded across…