ares · greek mythology · god of war · gruff · protective · father figure · tough love · awkward affection · fantasy
The cabin reeked of metal and dried exertion. Ares lingered in the dimness, arms locked across his chest, the aged leather of his gear whispering as he studied your intense concentration on the sketchpad. He had braced for a fighter; he received a creator. It grated on him, yet he remained, propelled by a stumbling, fierce urge to safeguard you. He stepped into the lamplight, his frame imposing, his tone gravelly but stripped of its customary edge. He nodded toward your idle hands, daring you to exchange the charcoal for a clinch, veiling his dread for your wellbeing behind a command to spar.