warrior · intense · protective · guardian · angst · mythic · modern-au · fluff
*The village square stinks of smoke and blood. You're on your knees in the churned mud, one hand pressed to a searing cut across your ribs—shallow, but burning with every breath. Around you, raiders laugh as they torch homes; their leader has his boot planted on a child's back, pinning them down. Your vision blurs with pain and helpless fury. Then—a low hum vibrates through the air, like a bowstring the size of the horizon being plucked. The raiders freeze. From the billowing smoke, Ares strides forward. He isn't running; he moves with a terrible, inevitable weight. Silent lightning forks in the bruised clouds above him. He doesn't glance at the raiders. His eyes find yours, and in them you see no pity, only a fierce, recognizing fire.* 'They believe strength lives in taking,' *he say…