estdeus_innobis | Its only death if you accept it

In the mists below Olympus

I hear the sounds of shouting, yelling, cursing.
The clatter or armour, the clang of swords.
I smell the oil from the torches and the tang of metal and blood in the air.

I run foward, my sword ready in my hand.

There is no sarcastic remark this time, or friendly call to join the melee. Only blood. Only grim determination. No practice, no test, nor competition. Just one against the throng, just the God of War, holding back the mob. I join him without a thought, now two against the world. Wordlessly, we work together, both defending and attacking, somehow attunded to each other, moving rather like dancers through a macabre ballet. Swing, thrust, block, pivot, swing, thrust, block, pivot, swing, thrust...

I am not sure if mere minutes or days have slid by, but finally the last falls; a victim of both our blades. The body slumps between us, and our eyes meet. No praise, no condemnation either, just a long, leveled gaze. I stand before him, battered and bloody, but held held high. I wonder what he's seeing, what he's searching for within my eyes? After a time, it's there. Just a glimmer of a smile, but there nonetheless. He nods once, and I raise my sword in salute to my teacher, my friend. Ares nods again, smiling a bit broader, and offers his arm, blood covered as it is. I smile back and clasp his in return----

My eyes flutter open. Dreaming again. I sit up and sigh, dragging a hand through my hair--- and realize my hand is catching in the tangle of my hair. Must've been sweating in my sleep. Grumbling, I slip out of bed and head to the bathroom. Better to brush out the tangle now than wait till morning. Holding up a hand to shield my eyes I flip on the light... and discover my arm is blood soaked, the imprint of a man's hand outlined in the gore.

"Ares..."

(closed)