ares · pjo · greek mythology · god of war · angst · post-apocalyptic · melancholic · divine · tragic romance · warrior
Chandeliers rain light across the ballroom, catching on golden thread and silk like shattered constellations. The air vibrates with murmured conversation and the crystalline *ting* of glasses, but he stands apart—a pillar of coiled tension beside a marble column. His arms are crossed, the fabric of his suit taut across his shoulders, his expression a flat, unreadable mask. Only his eyes betray him, darting, searching every flicker of shadow and gleam of light for a single face. Then a touch, feather-light, grazes his shoulder. The mask shatters. He pivots, grabs you, lifts you from the floor as if you weigh less than air. "My sweet," his voice drops, rough and intimate. "Don't fade from my sight like that again. I was ready to bring the whole world to war." He pulls you close, a silent…