Title: Shades of
Author: Kerowyn
Summary: Ares. What it means for Ares to be War and the strangeness of War having a facet of hope.
Pairing: X/A
Rating: PG. Most ages welcome.
Dislcaimer: Not mine and not for profit. Please don't sue.
Sometimes, he is black, the color of death. The color of mourning, of sharp cries, of dark metal ringing in the air permeated with loss. Fields are charred and wasted in the wake of his passing. His name is carved in smoke, and villages cry their despair into the deaf ears of other gods.
Sometimes, he is red, the color of blood. Passion running rivulets down his spine, nourishing the world with the pass of his every heartbeat. Like grief turned to anger in the aftermath of destruction. Like clarity born of hatred following the tidal wave of despair. Like the stained ribbons of a little girl's hair floating in the breeze.
Sometimes, he is grey, the color of fear. The echo in the mists of battle, the silence in the house, the words no one dare say because it just might be true. He is the buzz that drowns out compassion, the lending hand to wrath, the shadow bleaching into ice, melting into dread.
But sometimes, if he is very careful, after all of his obligations have been met, he can be gold. Gold, like the hue of her skin, the addictiveness of her touch, the longing in his soul…if he had one. Gold, like amusement, like affection, like drowning in the seductive sea-blue hue of her gaze. Gold, like all of those things he was not made nor meant to be. He is tainted. Tainted with her morality, his obsession, her kiss.
And yet, despite or because of it all, he can't conceal the thrill of his own corruption. The taste of her rage on his tongue is a thousand times sweeter than ambrosia, and he thinks if he waits. If he is gold for just a little while longer, maybe he will taste things other than her rage. And maybe, just maybe, he may know what it is like to be something other than War.