<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v252/HlySd/HotMenChart_Michael_Churchill_11-1-1-1.jpg)</div><strong>Name/Alias</strong>: John Aaron / Ares<br/><strong>Origin</strong>: Olympus<br/><strong>Location</strong>: John’s bedroom<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Carol<br/><hr/><br/><br/><strong>Yes.</strong><br/><br/>John turned his head to hide the pleased grin that parted his lips. He suspected that she did, but he wanted to hear it from her lips. There was still much for them to talk about. Her answer hadn’t been the end of it. The grin faded as he peered at her hand upon his arm out of the corner of his eye. He glanced to the hall. He needed to concentrate. If he looked at Carol, he would have saw nothing but lust, a<em>patient</em>lust he had been keeping under control for awhile. John was sure they both had, seeing how when they first met, they had hit it off quite well.<br/><br/>“My sister came to visit me last night. T’is why my bed chamber looks the way it does. Everything that made me the God of War was taken from me, and all I have left is John, and…” His brows furrowed deeply. “This place. What is a God of War that can’t kill? I refuse to play the game of the gods, and I refuse to work for an organization that defends THIS!”<br/><br/>He stood and faced her. His hand rose to clutch the gold chain about his neck. “This is why I can’t kill. This is why I can’t be the God of War. So who am I but John Aaron? A mortal.”<br/><br/>He lowered his hand and frowned at the floor. “I am unsure if I can forsake my love for war and bloodshed. John shows me things. Through John I can understand things that I can’t as Ares, but I don’t know if I should understand these things. It’s not what I’m supposed to understand. Not understanding these things is how I do my job. No one understands that.”<br/><br/>“You know, when I was the God of War, before this mess, I didn’t ever question my job. The gods think I senselessly kill and never think. From all the wars I’ve fought, there are people, mortals, who deserve to die and are just as ruthless as I. Athena, my sister, after the war, would devise ways to provide some sort of humane service to imprison them despite all the lives they’ve taken. I am certain that most mortals would have rather seen scum like that dead. So am I supposed to just die? Because I am unable to kill I am supposed to be killed in return and justice is served?”<br/><br/>John gazed at Carol briefly and then turned his eyes away. He had wanted to categorize her under the kind of people he was about to explain, but he didn’t think that wise. “Mortals would say I’m evil for what I do. I have seen the way that black woman looks at me. She is one of those mortals. You know why I don’t feel bad for what I do? Because I exist because they exist. THEY made me. Not my father; not my mother…I could have been any ‘God of…’ but I was war. So why chain me with this damned collar! If there is any evil in this world, it is THEY who are evil, and I say, let the wheel turn and crush all in its path!”<br/><br/>“So do you think you could still love a man like me Carol? My philosophy and morals are different from your own. I know not why I’m even here except the gods wishing to punish me for being who I am.”<br/><br/>John had put him on quite the rant, and he was slightly surprised. Ares would have never spoken about his feelings. It was always a dismissive turn of the cheek or shrug of the shoulder and he continued on being who he was regardless of what anyone thought. Perhaps, if he knew how to speak like John, many past situations could have gone differently. But he was a killer that didn’t know how to move on. How was he supposed to assimilate without denying who he was?