π°π΅β πππβ π³πππππΎππβ πππππ,
when the Day crooned her diurnal swan song and stifled herself in the throttlehold of the horizon only to be held captive by Tartarus, the maw of the sky was agape and bleeding ever-flowing torrent of wildfire-coloured ichor which then was made a divine being. A divine being with knuckles painted in revolting shades of decaying pomegranates; whose pulse was forged from deathless battle cries, teeth smudged in lifeblood with a taste of glory and religion.
πΏππβ ππΜ΅πβ πΆπβ ππ¨Νπ
Some breathe his name in prayers and devotion alike; holding the flesh and blood of his own to be a breathing hymn to his divinity. By contrast, some snarl it in furyborn blasphemy and claim him to be nothing more than an eldritch abomination that breeds only a series of tribulations. Then again, what is the difference between gods and monsters as they are fear-spoken?
| ππππβ ββ ππππ |
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Ares, much of the Olympiansβ disgrace, the living discredit to the divine name bestowed upon him. Mars, the chief patron god of Rome, the father and guardian of the Romans. What will become of the War God should he be torn to conflicting aspects that aspire to eclipse one another for what seems to be eternity? A deity may he be, yet denied still was omnipotence beneath the ichor-delivered rush of his fingertips. If not for unspooling the Gordian knot of his own ordeal, perhaps he would not bother to descend on the mortal world, let alone go as far as to assume a lesser form they call that which is made out of flesh and bones.
POSTSCRIPT.
Mars may or may not recollect events that involve Ares, his Greek aspect, and vice versa.
