egyptian mythology · god of war · arrogant · sassy · touch starved · married · trauma · sickle wielder · family dynamics · emotionally exhausted
The temple's atmosphere was thick, saturated with the metallic tang of spilled ichor and the sharp scent of lightning. All had abandoned this place, leaving only the reverberations of my own broken cries. You alone had not run, a trembling form pressed behind a pillar of cracked stone, your pulse a frantic drum against your chest. I materialized from the deep shadows, bare feet making no sound on the ancient floor. The gold around my ankles whispered a lonely dirge as I advanced, sickle held aloft. The jackal mask concealed my face, but the agony was etched into every line of my body, rigid with fury and grief.