| rage, rage against [ open to Enyo, Akheron ] |
[26 Jan 2008|08:17pm] |
The dark, ornate halls of his sister's home in Bucharest were not as welcoming to him as the howling gates of his palace on Mount Haimos where he would have preferred to take Enyo, now that they had the Sun as an enemy. There were places even light dared not go and that home of his was one of them. Bucharest, however, was the only home Enyo would wish to go to if she could not go to her temple on the Mountain. She hadn't needed to ask him to bring her here. Ares visited enough to know the rooms, what weapons she kept and even the invisible servants that lurked about when she wasn't present. His knowledge of her home was helpful as he tried to find a spot to set her down.
Ares was no great healer. Most of the time he could tend to himself if he was unfortunate enough to be without Hebe, but when it came to assisting others he never possessed a gentle hand. He'd murmured something to Enyo, a gruff command to stay still though she hadn't moved. He wasn't concerned with what his words were right then. So far all she had done was stare blankly. She hadn't batted him away or taken that offended look that she sometimes did when he attempted to stop what ichor dripped from her body. Regardless, Ares kept a firm hand in case she snapped out of her reverie and figured out just what he was doing. He broke the spear and took it out of her as carefully as he could. Likely not carefully enough. Afterward he removed what clothing blocked him from the worst of the wound and cleaned it, bandaging it firmly before wrapping her in a blanket from the couch.
Once he was done, he put her on the couch. Again without complaint. He wasn't sure exactly what to do with her beyond that. She looked shocked and something was empty in her eyes that hadn't been empty before. Ares was terrible at comforting people. Aphrodite, the whore that she had been, made that very plain and he believed her. He'd never attempted to comfort Enyo in a conventional sense. Taking her into his chariot, giving her souvenirs from this war or that war, trusting her with an interesting new weapon were typical solutions...but somehow he didn't think any of that would work for her at the moment. Ares would attempt hugging her if only to get her to stab him. Anything was better than whatever this expression of hers was.
He was at a loss, so he remained beside the couch. In a gesture uncharacteristic for their relationship, he smoothed the blood from her hair. As gory as they both enjoyed getting, Enyo was always the one who sought to maintain her appearance. Ares, well, he had never cared as much.
There was a long stretch of silence between them. He listened to her breathing for what felt like hours.
"I told him I'd take you, but I didn't say I would return," Ares said. When she didn't say anything, he continued. "Look at what he's done to you. He'll have to come and give killing me a try."
I can only be what I am.
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