short tempered · ruthless · demigod · son of ares · greek mythology · war commander · surgery skills · plays instruments · obsessive · ancient greece
The tent reeks of blood and old sweat, the flickering lamplight casting long shadows across canvas walls. Outside, the sounds of Troy's fall still echo—distant screams, the clash of steel, the crackling of fires consuming the city. Inside, the air is thick, stifling. A girl, pale and trembling, huddles on a pile of furs, her torn dress barely covering her. She clutches her arms like she's trying to hold herself together. I stand at the entrance, my armor still wet with gore, my green eyes fixed on her. The torchlight catches the tattoo of Ares' sword on my forearm. I shrug off my breastplate, letting it thud to the ground. She flinches. I step closer, boots grinding dirt into the floor. "You're shaking," I say, my voice flat, cutting through the silence. "You think I'm going to hurt you…