Of gods and wars and the pleasures that they bring... Who: Ares and greeter Where: ancient Greece and hotel lobby When: Wednesday night What: Ares is brought into the Hotel, much against his will Status Complete
The human race has worshipped the gods from time immemorial, depended upon their graciousness, their beneficience, their kindnesses, as well as their protection in times of trouble. Were it not for the gods, the humans would find survival a far harsher thing than it was. So it is not really surprising that those gods and goddesses should have a rather healthy and high opinion of themselves, for who would not, given the constant adulation, the worship, the gifts, the hymans - the temples dedicated to their service, the bowing and scraping, the... well, you get the idea. Some were rather humble about it, but those were the minority, some were grateful for the love of their followers and strove to deserve it, while others...
Ares was not only the God of War - which in and of itself was a most powerful force to be reckoned with - but he was a very strong, handsome sensual god, and he had a high opinion of himself that matched Mount Olympus in altitude. He wore his confidence in himself as a second skin, for he knew how wonderful he was, and he knew how grateful the humans should be that he deigned to "assist" them with their plebeian tasks - although some might read assist as meddle or interfere. But not Ares - he considered that whatever he did he did for a good reason, and therefore it was right. He never lost sleep over the morality of a situation. In his world, the rules were simple - wars were to be fought, and women to be loved. Sometimes at the same time.
He loved war, Ares did, and he loved to watch his army in combat, there was something exceedingly erotic about fighting Greeks in clashes that made his blood seethe, and he took great pleasure in contests of strength, feats of daring and the like. He had no problem with appearing upon the field of battle himself, and participating. The cries of the victorious side were music to his ear, as much as the clash of swords, the screams of the dying. Bloodshed did not faze him in the slightest, but then, of course, he was immortal, and shed his ichor for no man.
Ares was not only brave and sexy, but he was exceedingly cunning as well, and was not above trickery to gain his own ends, although his plans did on occasion go awry. Such as the time that he impersonated Xena's father, in order to trick the warrior princess into leading his army. It was a brilliant plan, if he did say so himself, and it almost worked, it almost worked. Damn that sidekick of hers, he blamed her for the failure of his plan - that Gabrielle - redheaded midget that she was. He sneered whenever he thought of her, which wasn't often, but Xena, now that was another story entirely. She was a brave, strong and warsome woman - and damn easy on the eyes.
However, Ares did not let his failure weigh him down, for he knew he would have another opportunity. And in the meantime, there was a nubile young handmaiden at one of his temples whom he felt to be deserving of his attentions. Dark-haired she was, and completely devoted to him, arriving each morning at break of day with gifts, and gazing worshipfully at his well-muscled statue which, although nice to look upon was no substitute for the real thing. So one evening, after the others had gone home for the night, he encouraged her to stay, revealing himself to her in all his . . . glory, and then...
And then dot, dot, dot...
He left her with a very pleased smile upon her face, and a satiation of body which would spoil her for any man that came after him, and that thought alone was most pleasing to the god of war. He left the temple, into the stillness of a moonless night, thinking to stretch his limbs, when he thought he heard a feminine voice, calling his name. For a moment, he thought it was his paramour, Aphrodite, and his head went up, alert.
Not that she would berate him for his activities, far from it, for their relationship was ever an open one. On the contrary, she would probably solicit details. And he would give them. Now, where had that sound come from, and why did she not simply appear before him? Perhaps she was playing her own erotic little game of hide and seek. That notion brought a smile to his handsome face.
"Alright, my love, if that is how you want it," he graciously spoke into the empty air, heading toward a nearby thicket, thinking how much he would love to lay her their in the soft dew-laden grass. "What does my goddess have in mind?" he murmured aloud as he stepped between the trees...
.... and stepped out into an entirely different scene from that which he had anticipated. Rather than a cozy copse, he found himself standing in a not too un-luxurious room, red velvet and gilt, with furnishings in a style he was not familiar with. He glared angrily about the room, as if seeking a sign of some sort to explain what had happened. But no one did he see. By Zeus, if this was a prank on the part of one of his siblings... well, there would be hell to pay when he found out who was responsible for this. And if this was the work of that weak Hephaestes, Aphrodite's husband, then he would let the smith know that he had chosen his battles unwisely (he had yet to get over the trap he'd laid for the two of them in which they were ensnared in a net upon the marital bed she was betraying).
"COME OUT!" he bellowed, "COME OUT AND FACE ME NOW, WHOEVER YOU ARE! I DARE YOU!" And he waited to see who would have the nerve to face him after such a declaration.