Robert
Perched on a cliff at the edge of Ares' Heights, Warrior's Overlook offers a breathtaking panoramic view of the Olympian landscape. This vantage point, adorned with statues commemorating legendary warriors, serves as a place of reflection and meditation for those seeking the guidance and favor of Ares before entering conflicts.
Anna
As the clouds parted and revealed a canvas of pink and orange, the rays of the Sun illuminated the world beneath it, licking the earth with warmth and splendour. Hyacinthus had been wandering the mountainside for hours, his breath syncing with the rhythm of his movements, a silent mantra guiding upwards until he reached the peak. 

Once there, the young god made his way to a secluded clearing nestled by ancient trees and unfurled his mat on the ground. The soft fabric whispered quietly against the earth as he climbed on it, and with the grace and poise of a dancer, Hyacinthus began to flow through his yoga routine. Each movement was a tribute to centuries of practise and discipline, embodying the spirit of calmness within oneself as he gently stretched, bent, and contorted in the golden rays of light.

As he settled into a seated position, the cool mountain air caressed his skin, carrying with it the scent of pine and wildflowers. With closed eyes, Hyacinthus let his mind drift, allowing the stillness of the air at such altitude to envelop him as he contemplated all that was, and all that had ever been. There, he pondered his existence; worshipped by mortals as a deity of rebirth and renewal, he had lived for centuries in search of a purpose beyond immortal life, but now found himself adrift in a world dominated by technology and progress. 

He felt a stirring within his soul as he became serene and regulated his breath, straightening his back and assuming a posture that was as still as water. The world had changed, but the essence of who Hyacinthus was, for better or for worse, remained. 

His mind continued to wander for good five minutes, until eventually, his meditation came to an end, rounding off his morning routine of yoga and mindfulness in a newfound state of peace. Once he was finished, he drew in a large breath and exhaled slowly, casting his violet eyes out across the open vista before him, allowing the cool breeze to slither against his bare skin. Deep in thought, he then rotated around on the mat so that his back faced the edge, ready to climb to his feet and pack up his things.

Until he caught the eye of a man by his right, who was deep in contemplation of his own. Knowing that gods and demigods all over frequented the mountainside to meditate, Hyacinthus smiled kindly as he rolled up his mat and tied the elastic around it. Unbeknown as to who it was, he simply crossed his bare arms and leant against the mat which stood upright in the dirt, held together tightly while Hyacinthus quietly watched. 

His posture was good and his breathing slow; it was clearly not the first time this man had taken to the practice whatsoever. After a few minutes, he slowly came to, and when he opened both his eyes, the radiant god gave him a friendly wave. 

**"I wish I knew how to stay as still as that,"** He said smoothly. **"Have you been meditating for long?"**
Nina
Douglas sat cross-legged at the peak of the overlook, his eyes closed as he took slow, steady breaths. The crisp morning air was still, save for the occasional bird song floating on the breeze. He had risen early, before the sun peeked over the horizon, to make the solitary trek up the mountainside. This was his occasional sanctuary, the place he came to center his mind and spirit before undertaking any great endeavor. Usually, his mind was spinning with strategy, plans, conflict, battles and training. But now and then even he knew he needed the calm and stillness to make sense of it all.

As the sunlight began to creep across the mountaintop, Douglas focused on his breath, on the way the air moved in and out of his body. With each inhale, he felt energy and life flow into him. With each exhale, he released any negativity or doubt. In his mind's eye, Douglas saw the sprawling city below, just beginning to wake. He imagined the people, so small from this vantage point, starting their day - parents rousing children for school, shopkeepers preparing their stores, athletes heading out for morning training. Mortals all, full of hopes and fears, loves and losses.

Douglas sat on his mat, under the shade of an ancient tree, a still point on the mountain. His role was great as Ares' son, his powers vast as Ares' champion, yet here he was able, for once, to just be himself. Douglas. His mind was quiet until there was only the present moment. This day would bring the start of a great test, Douglas knew. His father Ares, ever hungry for war and conquest, had given him a task, one Douglas was not thrilled about. 

And for the first time he could recall, Douglas was actually having some doubts about his father's methods and motives. Something in and of itself Douglas was having trouble wrapping his mind around. But he was bound to serve his father, he owed him everything, and Ares deserved his respect and his obedience- and that meant not questioning what tasks he was given...

When Douglas opened his eyes finally, blinking a little in the shifted light of the sun as it was higher in the sky than when he had begun, he gave a small sigh. Looking around as he slowly came back to present, he caught the eyes of the figure standing a little ways away. Douglas would give a small nod and save as the stranger acknowledged him. "I wish I knew how to stay as still as that. Have you been meditating for long?" 

Douglas couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips as he replied. "You mean today or in general? But no, I don't do this often... At least not as often as I probably should. Usually busy training down there" Douglas said with a nod down into the valley where the majority of Ares' foot soldiers did their training. "What about you?" He asked turning his attention back to the stranger.

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James
It was there the young found his sanctuary on the mountainside, where the whispers of the wind danced through tall pines and the distant call of birds echoed through the valley below. Breathing in the crisp air at high altitude, as his companion probably knew, was a wonderful feeling and helped clear his mind of the worries of daily life; gone were the stresses of his long-lived existence, replaced with the warmth of clarity and calm - a most welcome change from an overactive conscience.

He felt the earth beneath his feet as he stood beside Doug's mat, his caramel curls catching the sunlight in its golden strands. The young man before him did not carry the same godly aura as he or those like him did, but *Did* Embody a sense of strength and fortitude that belied his heritage. Hyacinthus, of course, was not aware of the finer details of that assumption, but it was seldom any mere mortal ventured up that high without tremendous difficulty.

**"I see,"** The young god said gently as he gave Doug a friendly smile. **"Though you do it make it look so easy."** A soft smile played on Hyacinthus' lips as he made note of the stranger's discipline, impressed by his impeccable poise and form. Meditation had always been something the spritely deity always used as a way to connect with his inner, true self, his mind intertwined with the very essence and spirit of nature all around him - his thoughts connected to the roots of ancient trees, stitched into the very fabric of shared consciousness itself.

**"I always thought that in silence, it's easier to find our true selves,"** Hyacinthus observed. **"And it's good to get away from the hustle and bustle of everything. Some people may find it a little odd that I choose to come here of all places to do that,"** He chuckled. **"But I suppose I'm used to finding beauty in a culture of militarism."** 

There was power in stillness, even against the backdrop of the men that trained rigorously in the valley below. Hyacinthus knew this and reminisced back to his early days as a young prince in Amyclae, where the Spartan soldiers embraced the possibility of death with a fierce passion, welcoming the danger like some sort of dear friend. 

**"You're... You're avoiding your training?"** He asked, his violet eyes suddenly vivacious with piqued interest. If he was putting it together correctly, there were remarkable similarities between them. Hyacinthus, of course, had always sought solace by merging with the the rhythm of the universe, putting him at odds with the pressing need to be subordinate to Sparta's more militaristic ambition. That, however, was a development he intended to keep quiet for the time being. 

**"Here is where I escape the turmoil of eternal life. The mountains stand firm against all of the chaos that's waged against them,"** He said, a little introspectively as his gaze turned to the horizon. **"I just want to be as resilient as they are."**
Nina
Douglas shifted his weight, the soft blades of grass brushing against his skin as he gazed out at the serene landscape before them. The sprawling meadow was a peaceful oasis amidst the chaotic world that Douglas often found himself in. He couldn't help but reflect on Hyacinthus' words and his own internal struggles. As he exhaled, his breath mingled with the gentle whispers of the wind through the rustling leaves and delicate flowers scattered throughout the grassy expanse that surrounded them.

"You know, it's funny," He began, his tone tinged with a hint of bitterness. "My father, Ares... The embodiment of war and conflict, the one expecting his son and champion to do nothing but thrive off of the thrill of battle. And here I am, his son, expected to follow in his footsteps." He let out a dry chuckle, but there was no amusement behind it, only a deep-seated turmoil that seemed to reverberate through the atmosphere around them.

Douglas saw the look on the other's face, Hyacinthus' expression one of genuine interest and empathy, encouraging to continue. And so he did. "I've always felt... Different," Douglas continued, his voice filled with a mix of longing and confusion. "While my father thrives in the chaos and destruction of war, finding joy in the clash of swords and the cries of warriors, I am not sure if that is what is right for me... If that is what I want."

Douglas's hands clenched into fists at his side as he took a slow deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. "Every day, it's like I'm fighting a battle I can't win. My father... He doesn't understand. He's always pushing me, trying to mold me into something I don't know if I can be. All I've ever wanted was to find my own path, to be my own person."

It was clear that these words were not spoken often, and Douglas appreciated the chance to finally speak them aloud. Even if he was not sure why he was telling all of this to someone he had just met. "I just... I guess I'm scared," He finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper on the wind. "Scared of disappointing him, scared of not living up to his expectations, and most of all, scared of who I might become if I do. It's a lot to try and juggle and figure out. Being out here... Helps, even if just for a little while" He said with a small shy smile as he added at last, "Names Douglas by the way."

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James
Doug's presence was a contradiction - a blend of strength and youthful uncertainty. His muscled frame was clad in simple clothes and his skin bore the marks of countless battles. Despite their peaceful surroundings, he wore a look on his face that spoke of unseen demons, his eyes alive with the scars of his martial lineage. In stark contrast, the god embodied a different kind of legacy altogether; his soft features and slight form seemed to belong to the mountainside itself, as if sculpted by the very earth itself. 

Hyacinthus' eyes were a striking shade of violet as he stood before the son of Ares in attire that was a simple chiton of forest hues. Blending seamlessly with their environment, it made him appear as less of a separate entity and more a natural extension of the landscape itself. When Doug spoke about his troubles, the god listened with curiosity. His turmoil was clearly deep-rooted and he wore it with regret, but did his best to disguise it behind a veneer of paper-thin durability. 

**You feel trapped,"** Hyacinthus said gently as he watched Doug reflect on his situation. **"By a legacy which demands strength and power. It's an endless battle."** There was a beat as he continued to listen, the wind blowing through his tousled brown locks as he stood before him on the mountaintop. **"Your father expects you to be a warrior, but it sounds like you're no longer sure if that's even what you want."** The young god's eyes glinted with contemplative empathy as he studied the tension in the demigod's posture. There was clearly more to the weight upon his broad shoulders.

**"I don't understand it,"** He continued. **"But it's hardly difficult to grasp. My life began in Sparta, in a place called Amyclae. My father was a king and expected his son to be a beacon to his people. One of courage and ferocity - a man they could rely on to continue the legacy of a militaristic empire that loved to spill blood."** Hyacinthus looked down, meeting Doug's eyes with a mixture of earnest relief. **"But I broke that mould a long time ago. Despite being a prince, I removed my shackles and embraced who I am. I made my own legacy - one of beauty and peace, and focused on what I truly loved. But there are still days I feel a storm brewing inside me. There has** ***Always*** **Been a longing to break free from being chained to the expectations of others."**

The god smiled, the gentle curve of his lips reminiscent of his ability to empathise with the demigod who explained what plagued him. It was easy to project an image of what people expected from you, especially when it aligned so closely with what you had been taught to value. But inside, it was clear that the legacy one inherited is simply one thread in a collection of fibres that constituted the overall story of a person's life. 

**"I know that you must be frightened. You love your father and you don't want to disappoint him,"** The young god observed. **"But how do you reconcile those expectations with your own desires? How do you honour your lineage without being completely consumed by it?"** He then asked, before pressing forward on the dirt to offer the demigod a hand to help him to his feet. **"I think first, you have to realise it's ok to question things. That it's ok to feel doubt. Nothing can truly define us wholly without complete understanding of the entire story."**

Birdsong tweeted with a chipper melody that flooded the scene with a welcome rush of serenity as the sun rose above the mountains behind him. The gentle breeze rustled through loose leaves scattered across the dirt, carrying the promise of understanding and acceptance. Hyacinthus was no psychic, but he knew what it meant to question every part of himself until he no longer felt like he even knew who he was. **"So yes, being here is the first step. And maybe together we can find ourselves. My name is Hyacinthus,"** The god smiled. **"It is very nice to meet you."**

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