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Daniel Ciin (miaiphonos) wrote in paxletalelogs,

Re: on the dance floor: Ares!
Where she slipped through the throng effortless and poised Ares simply shouldered through them, pushing aside gods and their human consorts and attendants with equal unconcern. He had felt her before he had seen her, had sensed that resonant pull of her from well across the room; it was a strange sensation, inexorable and fierce and a joy beyond measure, and he would not waste precious seconds accommodating any who stood between them. His hands flexed at his sides, short nails biting crescents into his palms; beneath the music's humming pulse he felt his own heart quicken, each heavy strike of his black boots against the floor carrying him that much closer to her. This was not their dream, some bittersweet memory of shame and desperation filtered through a human consciousness: This was tangible and real, present and true, and when he reached her side it was Ares' steady grasp, not Samuel's, that pulled her close.

"Areia." A thread of laughter laced through his tone, relieved and amused and full of a dangerous sort of cheer. "My Areia." His gaze flickered over her, drinking in every curve and plane of flesh, every aspect of this mortal guise now impossibly heightened, transmuted by what was truly her. Leaning down, he pressed a burnished cheek to hers, smiling with a brush of his lips to her lobe. "You wear this well," he teased. His teeth nipped at her ear, worrying at tender skin. He pulled away, but only just; one hand slipped between them, pressing to her thigh, rough fingertips slipping beneath the hem of her flawlessly fitted dress. He kissed her, then, his tongue pushing past her lips, urgent and hungry.