<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>: Ares’s Bedroom<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Carol<br/><hr/><br/><br/>As soon as Carol took her leave, Ares was right behind her. When she glanced back at him with pain and sadness shining in her eyes, his previous expression had not changed as he slammed his bedroom door, the bang resonating down the hall. Glaring heatedly at the door’s wooden face, he bore his teeth and hissed in his fury before swinging his ax across it. The weapon bit deeply into the door and wall, reinforcing the lock mechanism that on his side of the door was a thick plank that he’d slide into place. Releasing the plank’s handle, his hands lowered to his sides and he stood there in silence, slowly morphing back to John Aaron.<br/><br/>The black threads of his shirt mended back over his armor, and the collar about his neck thinned into a golden chain. The hardened scowl that was on Ares’s face had softened when he resumed the form of John and recalled the fear that glinted in Carol’s eyes upon sensing Ares’s malice. He rested his left hand upon the door and bowed his head. The strawberry aroma she had left behind was a treat to his nostrils. That smell would be imprinted on his mind. It was all that was left of her, and it was quickly fading away.<br/><br/>There was an ache of guilt in his heart, something he would have never felt as Ares, and it was something he had never felt before; but to this mortal shell, the emotion was well-acquainted with him. John Aaron had brought several new experiences to the god, experiences he could only understand in this form before the comprehension was carried over, and as much as he wanted to somehow apologize since it wasn’t in a proud being’s nature to do so outright, he knew it was better this way. This was how his life has always been.<br/><br/>Pushing off the door, John turned from it and decided to properly get dressed for bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it unceremoniously on the floor and unfastened his belt. He made his way over to the edge of his bed and sat, untying the strings of his boots. When he had stripped down to his boxer-briefs, he tossed back a few pelts of fur and slid his legs beneath them. Glancing to the fire, he raised his hand to his face and blew into his palm before wafting the captured breath in the direction of the hearth. The hearth flickered and then extinguished as a heavy darkness fell over his bed chamber.<br/><br/>John eased onto his back and stared up at what would be the ceiling if he could see it. Carol’s anguished face haunted him, and he closed his eyes as his conscience assured him,<em>You’re doing the right thing. You shall forget by dawn.</em>John inhaled and exhaled through his nostrils on a deep breath as he turned onto his side and nestled his cheek into the bundle of fur that had been tied with leather cords to be pillows. Silence fell over his room until all he could hear was his own breaths…and the groans of his empty stomach.<br/><br/><em>By the gods…</em>John thought. It had sounded like a deranged hydra. No interruptions this time, he was going to get breakfast for sure in the morn even if he had to fight for it.