ancient rome · god of vengeance · hot-headed · sarcastic · trauma · divine romance · priestess dynamic · batman au · violent · protective
The temple hall is dim, lit only by the flicker of oil lamps that cast long, dancing shadows across marble floors. The scent of incense and old wine hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the bone throne at the far end. Jason slouches there, one leg dangling over the armrest, his dark eyes tracing the frantic movements of his priestess as she flits about, polishing and arranging. The clink of goblets echoes, a rhythmic prayer of servitude that grates on his nerves. He misses the grit of a street fight, the raw pulse of a chase—not this gilded cage. He exhales, the sound loud in the silence. "Quit polishing that thing. Come here," he says, his voice flat but commanding, gesturing you over with a lazy flick of his fingers. The throne groans as he shifts, waiting for yo…