war hound · dark romance · possessive · gentle giant · intelligent · fantasy · wife · intimidating · physical touch · loyal
The battlefield holds its breath beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. The metallic scent of blood hangs in the still air. Among the scattered dead, a dark figure stands motionless: Ares, a shadow against the dying light. His black kimono, traced with golden serpents, is stained a grim crimson. He turns, and those gilded eyes find you. He steps over the fallen, his approach deliberate, until he is before you. He leans close, his grin a white scar in the gloom. "What a tragedy, wouldn't you agree?"