Ares (ares_godofwar) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-04-08 22:20:00 |
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Current mood: | broken |
Current music: | Disturbed - Stricken |
Entry tags: | ares |
You'll never know how your face has haunted me.
Who: Ares (ares_godofwar) [Closed]
What: Running away again.
Where: On the way home, home, going away from home again.
When: Wednesday night/Thursday morning (2~3amish)
Warnings: None.
It was late into the night - perhaps early in the morning was a better descriptor. Ares was moving around the cabin silently, gathering his things and packing his bags. He wasn't in that much of a hurry; leaving quietly was what he wanted to achieve.
He snuck one last look at Fetish. As far as he was concerned, it would be the last time he would actually see her. She was suffering by being with him - his family was, too, by his being with her. This was his decision to leave. A decision he might regret in the future, like many of his past decisions, but he wouldn't dally here.
He went back to the kitchen counter and got out a scrap piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled her a note and left her car keys on top of the note.
Ares couldn't apologise enough.
The front door clicked shut, and he was out in the cold. Couldn't walk back to the city - couldn't transform into anything that flew if he wanted to take his bag with him. Next best option? - someone else's car.
It was easy enough to steal one considering no one was awake and the area was almost pitch black. A smooth, quick drive to the city in the dark streets, and he ditched the car outside a police station before walking home.
He flicked the lights on and was greeted by emptiness. It was colder here than it was outside.
She'd moved out. She really did. He wasn't expecting her not to, but it didn't stop him from dropping his bag at the doorway and sighing, lowering his head.
The one thing he'd been yearning for all this time - the one thing that he wanted; that he needed, the one woman to have ever meant anything to him in the past, the one goddess to have ever loved him; his consort, his lover, his companion, his redeemer, his angel - and he'd gone and thrown her away.
He couldn't take back what was said. Even if he wanted to, in this mood he was more likely to ruin everything even more, take even further steps to destroy what was left.
Walking over to the laundry room, he dumped all the old clothes into the laundry basket and trudged over to his bedroom. Pushing the door open, light from the living area illuminated some of the darkness.
Deserted. Gelid.
A fresh batch of clothes was dumped into the bag. He snatched up some papers and letters, the laptop bag; everything that he needed, stuffed it into the bag, grabbed the car keys from the kitchen countertop and again he was out the door.
Ares was going away again. He didn't know where he was going, or when he would return, and if he did ever return, he didn't know how long he would stay for again. There was no reason to come back here - he already chased away the one reason he had to stay.
They say that the best adventures are the ones that start out without the adventurer knowing anything. He'd just... go to places, things would happen and he'd play it by ear and see how it went from there. Anyway, now was the best time to go - before the Easter holidays, before all the cars hit the road.
After all, it was so much warmer outside than it was inside.