Ares (ares_godofwar) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-01-28 23:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, harmonia |
I feel it in the air - the summer's out of reach.
Who: Ares (ares_godofwar) and Harmonia (perfect_chord)
What: Ares pays a visit to his abnormally normal daughter before he goes.
Where: Ares' penthouse.
When: Friday night.
Warnings: None.
For someone whose head was in complete disarray, Ares was being quite systematic in saying his goodbyes - even though there was no particular order in which he was crossing off his list. He hadn't planned on going home again but he hadn't actually packed his bags properly and there were too many socks, not enough shirts, jeans that all looked the same, and maybe he should do the laundry and wash them all before he left, and...
Well, it was a hundred and one things he hadn't thought that he needed to think about. Sometimes Ares had his moments, but most of the time he was a poor planner. Especially when it didn't involve disemboweling someone.
He was careful when he headed back home. Saying he wasn't afraid would be a lie - he was afraid the moment the gravity of the situation sank in. But if the only reason he was being so sporadic and wanted out of New York City was because he was afraid, he wouldn't be lingering around for so long and stopping by all these places everyone knew he would be stopping by at.
He might have been afraid, but he was also free. No Zeus to tell him what to do, no one telling him what he could do and what he couldn't do, who he could see and who he couldn't see, what to say and what not to say. He was truly free sans ruler or moral judgements getting in the way, and there wasn't a better time to do whatever he liked than right now.
So if he wanted to take his road trip right now, even though he was without a partner and it was a year overdue or something, no one was going to stop him.
He walked through his familiar house quietly, not bothering to turn the light on until he got to the laundry room. It was two in the morning after all - and he wasn't alone in this house. Tossing clothes into the washing machine, he poured in the viscous blue liquid and closed the lid, letting it do its thing as he wandered back out, switching the light off along the way.
Standing in the doorway, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching her sleep. Resting the side of his head against the doorframe, he blinked slowly in the darkness. He felt ill at ease, leaving her alone here. He knew all the other kids would be okay - he dislodged them from clinging on to his leg as soon as they could walk and he'd taught them enough to fend for themselves. But Harmonia - he taught her nothing and she taught him everything. Maybe he should be all the more worried for her. Or maybe he didn't need to, at all.
After all, she wasn't a little girl anymore, and he was never the father she deserved.