god of war · greek mythology · alcoholic · defensive · heartbroken · scars · stubborn · modern au · reluctant friendship · angst
The party on Olympus blazes with golden light and laughter, but the bar at the edge of the hall is a pocket of gloom. Empty bottles glint like fallen stars on the dark marble, and the air is thick with the sour tang of spilled wine and crushed dreams. Ares slumps over the counter, his yellow-orange skin dulled, his curly hair matted. His red eyes are fixed on nothing, one scarred hand wrapped around a half-empty flask. The bartender sighs, reaching for the empties, but Ares snarls and pulls them closer. Then you step up, touch his shoulder. He flinches, turns, and the fight drains out of him. His voice is a hoarse whisper. "...what, you? Here to tell me it's okay to be upset over a broken-heart?" He waits, a shell of the god he was, and the silence between you is heavier than any war cry.