#emberstoflames

Of all the Gods that could stroll into his life this was one that he could not ignore.  If he was more thoughtful he might have pondered why the fates had brought them together, now, on this street and in this public place, only once Ares had regained his memories of who he was. 

Hephastus might have gotten the better of him once, and married Ares’ lover Aphrodite in the process, but they were mortal now (at least as far as Ares knew - he hadn’t quite gotten to the point that he wanted to test it just yet), and without their weapons. And Ares knew that even as Aaron he was impressive. Tall, muscular, rich - he didn’t even have to know what Hephaestus was doing in this mortal life to know that Ares’ was doing better than him. 

He stepped into Hephaestus’ path deliberately so that he jostled the other man, unable (unwilling) to refrain from the impulse. Was it a bad idea? Yes. Had that ever stopped him before? Not yet. 

“Might want to watch where you’re stepping, mate.”

Laurel would not have believed anyone who had told her that she would one day be involved in a casual axe-throwing competition league, but then she also had not entirely factored in exactly how difficult it could be to make adult friends who did not work alongside her. After trying out the activity once she had been surprised by just how much she enjoyed it and just how much of a stress reliever it could be. 

Now between matches, and waiting for the targets to be changed, Laurel  had a moment to catch up with her team mate. 

“Brantley.” she said with a smile. “Are you throwing well today?”

and so it begins. so far the only one escape from the shackles of the mortal prison that atropos has physically witnessed is that of hera’s ( and of course it was prompted by a scenario identical to the one the queen herself had experienced ), but she knows that is not the only one. she has not seen any others yet, but she can feel it. their fury permeates the air, poisons it. for someone less than her, it could be a fatal thing — after all, when has the wrath of the gods yielded positive results? but she is atropos, one of the moirai, and she knows no fear. she has never been afraid of divinity; not when they had their supernatural powers, and certainly not now when they remain prisoners of mortality to a certain degree. 

this lack of fear is what guides her steps as atropos follows the strongest and nearest trace of divinity. it is, in fact, curiosity which drives her forward. curiosity involves a certain degree of uncertainty which she has not experienced before, for there is nothing but complete certainty in her world, but she will give this to mortals. there is something about not being sure of what is waiting ahead. she does not want to experience it frequently, but for now, just this once, she will revel in it.

except she needs not revel for much longer. atropos turns left and while the alley is mainly empty, there she finds what she has been looking for. brantley flint, as he used to be. hephaestus, as he truly is. before the god can notice, the corner of atropos’ mouth tugs upward — a rare display of excitement from her before she schools her expression back into submission. sonya’s mask slips on with ease as the goddess leans against the nearby wall; arms crossed across her chest, eyes fixated on the god. “you don’t look so good.” she states, loud enough that it should captivate his attention. “need help with something?” .