"So be it." spoke the Lord of Lightning, crackling majestically in his static strut and Grecian suit, spine straight as the burnished scepter, an electrical scintilla falling down the forum with him, seeming to glide primarily where he stepped. And when he stepped, it seemed to shakest the world. Not only this, the God consistently seemed windblown and wild as the lightning he wielded. Even the long white hair, the beard, seemed ever to be active as if the wind were softly toying with it like a child.
The chariot, which was made for two, and made of silver, lay outside awaiting them in the garden. Pegasus was a mighty enough steed to not need assistance, and thus he was the only horse to be accompanying him.
"By the way, Paul." The King said on accident the name the boy kept repeating. "Amphritite is quite a catch."