Idle hands.
A mortal hour or so elapsed before Ares was even remotely in a temperament that would be
conducive to conversation with Hercules. After his brother’s seizure of idiocy in War’s bedroom, the King yearned for nothing more than skewering the other God with something long and thick - and it was most definitely not a sexual activity Ares had in mind - so he had distanced himself from the marital scene entirely.
Sitting on a black marble bench outside the aggrandized Temple of War, wearing gleaming full body armour, Mars materialized different objects into his right, ruling hand... A scepter. Naw.. A trident. Already been done.. A spear. A fierce weapon, to be sure, and one of his symbols, but it just did not strike that “Fear me, you insignificant fuck” terror into his foes he was seeking to implant. A spiked mace. Bad memories there.. Hercules’ head. Ha. Now that was a pleasing sight... the greasy skull, hanging by its golden, tattered locks from War’s clenched fist. That would make quite a statement, indeed.. But, alas...He rapidly dissolved the faux head, knowing, with his misfortune, that Hebe would surely meander past as he was amusing himself with the thought..
Wherever the other two Gods who frequented his Temple were, he was not concerned. Perhaps they’d unearthed something useful for themselves to do, aside from harass him - but he had many doubts.
He did, however, need to continue the previously commenced conversation about Hercules’ visit to the Underworld, and how Hades had responded. Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Ares projected his thoughts toward his sister, seeking her out, requesting information about where she was, and what she was doing....
While he awaited her reply, he scanned horizontally, then down. He sensed a presence, but it did not seem to display any outwardly aggressive tendencies, or any real purpose for that matter, so it was monitored, but not immediately reacted to..
conducive to conversation with Hercules. After his brother’s seizure of idiocy in War’s bedroom, the King yearned for nothing more than skewering the other God with something long and thick - and it was most definitely not a sexual activity Ares had in mind - so he had distanced himself from the marital scene entirely.
Sitting on a black marble bench outside the aggrandized Temple of War, wearing gleaming full body armour, Mars materialized different objects into his right, ruling hand... A scepter. Naw.. A trident. Already been done.. A spear. A fierce weapon, to be sure, and one of his symbols, but it just did not strike that “Fear me, you insignificant fuck” terror into his foes he was seeking to implant. A spiked mace. Bad memories there.. Hercules’ head. Ha. Now that was a pleasing sight... the greasy skull, hanging by its golden, tattered locks from War’s clenched fist. That would make quite a statement, indeed.. But, alas...He rapidly dissolved the faux head, knowing, with his misfortune, that Hebe would surely meander past as he was amusing himself with the thought..
Wherever the other two Gods who frequented his Temple were, he was not concerned. Perhaps they’d unearthed something useful for themselves to do, aside from harass him - but he had many doubts.
He did, however, need to continue the previously commenced conversation about Hercules’ visit to the Underworld, and how Hades had responded. Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Ares projected his thoughts toward his sister, seeking her out, requesting information about where she was, and what she was doing....
While he awaited her reply, he scanned horizontally, then down. He sensed a presence, but it did not seem to display any outwardly aggressive tendencies, or any real purpose for that matter, so it was monitored, but not immediately reacted to..