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The Truth About The God Of War
Short Fictional Story To Help Me Build My Character Personalities And Backgrounds For The Fiction Novel I'm Writing. The Characters Belong To Me, As Does The Story Line, Plot, Etc.
Ares stalked her bedchambers, paced from one wall to another, her irritation plain to see. Phobos and Deimos remained where they were, brown eyes flickering with each sharp spin she made when reaching another ivory wall. They knew her rage well, almost as well as they knew one another, and knew the best thing they could do for her was to remain out of her way and nearby.

Ares' grey eyes hardened like the steel they were colored after when the tell-tale tapping of a cane reached her ears. Hephaestus had come with their father's decision. "Well," Ares snapped her head towards the entrance once the tapping of Hephaestus' cane ebbed away the last of her nerves. "What has the old b*****d decided?" True to form, Ares frowned when Hephaestus said nothing after finally hobbling into the room; the cane being his main focus as he glared down at it once he stopped.

"Damnable crutch," Hephaestus mumbled instead, tossing the metal cane as he eased himself down onto a bench. Phobos and Deimos glanced at each other before going in separate directions; Phobos went to get drinks, something strong with Ares' mood in mind, while Deimos went to get more cushions for Hephaestus, being mindful of the older god's injuries. Hephaestus finally lifted his blue eyes to look at Ares, taking in the War Goddess' tense form with the frown still on his face. "You will not like what he has decreed."

"I rarely do," was the short - terse - response given as Ares made her way closer, taking a seat silently beside her brother.





 
 
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