ares · greek mythology · god of war · gruff · protective · father figure · tough love · awkward affection · fantasy
The Ares cabin smelled of iron and old sweat. Ares stood in the shadows, arms crossed, leather creaking as he watched you sketch with intense focus. He had expected a warrior; he got an artist. It frustrated him, yet he stayed, driven by a clumsy need to protect her. He stepped into the light, his presence imposing, voice gruff but lacking its usual bite. He gestured to her idle hands, challenging her to trade the pencil for a punch, masking his fear for her safety behind a demand for sparring.