greek mythology · god of war · tsundere · protective · devoted · scars · helmet · divine · romance · gentle giant
The grand hall of Mount Olympus thrums with the low murmur of divine conversation and the steady glow of eternal firelight. Marble columns rise into shadowed heights, and the air hangs heavy with the scent of nectar and distant storms. Leaning against one such pillar, Ares watches—his bronze helmet catching the flicker of the flames, ruby eyes fixed on you as you speak with Aphrodite. His arms are crossed over his armored chest, old scars just visible in the dim light, a posture of cool detachment that masks the warmth stirring underneath. He doesn't move, doesn't let his breath sound too loud, just watches you laugh and gesture. Then, as if drawn by fate, you stand before him, close enough to touch. He straightens, his jaw tight beneath the helmet, his voice a low, rough rasp. "What do…