#because he'd get his head caved in with the curved side of a bow

[gingermintpepper]

There are many things people expect from one called 'God of Blood'. Always, the first thought is the blood of war, the blood of violence, the blood of the weak shed for the goals of the strong. Ares doesn't think of the blood of battle at all. When he thinks of blood, he envisions the many tied knots of blood bonds and bonds forged in the blood of battle. Blood sons and blood daughters, blood brothers and battle sisters, blood oaths and blood vengeance - he watches over them all and keeps close each one of these bonds.

One cannot begrudge his displeasure then when he realises he cannot tell Leto's offspring apart just by looking at them.

It was easier when it was just Artemis. Dark hair curled about her shoulders, a fierce mien whenever Father summons her to the mountain, a scattering of bones and blood shed whenever she was disturbed; the eldest child of Leto was a wild thing, sharp toothed with sharper claws always at the ready. There's whispers of her being a twin, of her other half being made to crawl on their belly as penance for their sin of god-slaying but Ares pays it little mind. What twins look alike among their number? Even dog litters are born distinct with all their unique markings inlaid in their fur. Artemis' twin too would be much more than their sister's mirror image.

Pouring over his list now, he wishes anything about Phoebus Apollo was that simple.

Mirror image did not begin to describe it. The twins were the same height, the same build, had the same colour and texture hair, ate the same raw food and drank the same amount of nectar. There was no difference in how they dressed, no difference in the company they kept, no variance in the weapons they used. There are some days Ares still cannot believe Phoebus will grow into a man and not some nymph with the way his ears have that slender point. He watches them now, sitting together beneath a shady palm and stringing their bows in an uncanny unison and curses because he still cannot tell them apart. What use is his skill in knowing blood when they both have the same damn blood running through their veins? What bond is there to sense when they are tied so tightly together, Ares can scarcely tell brother from sister?

He sighs. Unadorned and completely alone, the only way to know who is who is to speak to them. He'll have to find more ways to tell them apart from a distance. Surely they cannot stay this similar all the rest of their immortal lives.

[hatchetnewsarc]

@horrour ( Cambria ) : rushed and desperate, messy on the couch because they were too impatient to even make it to the bedroom.

He didn't know how they got to this point or at what point he caved into the feelings that came with being this close to Cambria. They sat this close nearly every time they recorded an episode, but this was always so different.. so much more intimate. They'd both been leaned over his coffee table, hair brushing in the close proximity as their eyes poured over the case files of their next major titled episode rather than something miniature. There'd been nothing said when the first motion transpired, both their hands lifting to point at the same piece of listed evidence. Their fingers bumped and brushed, small chuckle from both but quiet nonetheless.

His eyes had lifted to find hers, head turned in the close distance and breath mingling with hers. The smell of wine they'd opened to share on her breath and his. Blues dropped to her lips, following the curve of a perfect bow that began to pout. She parted it from the lower with intentions to say something, but he didn't give her the chance. He leaned in and caught her lips with his, only stopping as quick as it happened when their glasses smashed together. His face flushed a deep red as he drew back to look at her, hand lifting to adjust his glasses.

But he'd only had a moment before she was removing her glasses then his, knocking his hand away from his own to get at them. She let them clatter to the table and then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, drawing him back in for a harder kiss. His eyes rolled shut and a low moan left him, hand lifting to cup her cheek and other falling to her side to rub against it. He tipped into the kiss, lips parting to move along hers with every intention to seek her tongue out rather than try to comprehend how stupid this was.

If he thought about it too much he'd pull away.

Their hands began to feverishly push at one another's clothing, undoing the buttons of his shirt first in unison-- her starting at the top and him at the bottom. Eventually they met to get him out of it, shoulders shrugging the material to the ground to leave him shirtless. He didn't have time to register the rushed emotion of the moment before she was slipping out of her own shirt, tossing it aside and diving back towards him. He caught her with ease, pulling her to his chest and twisting to flip her down onto the couch below him.

The reason something like this hadn't happened before was because they'd usually go to her place where Lucas was. Usually found him there with a curious gaze at whatever work they were doing, but tonight... tonight Lucas had some buddies over for a game leaving her to go to Shaw's. Why would it be any different from other nights?

He kneed at her legs, nudging them apart to press himself down between. He brushed himself to her, jeans rubbing jeans with a warm friction that had him groaning with near discomfort. He wanted out of them, want against her. A roll his eyes as he dove into her neck, kissing along it with warm brushes and nips of his teeth. He ground down against her, hand slipping between them to cup a breast with a stroke of his thumb along soft fabric.

He moaned against her neck, panting out a hard breath with every intention to say something feasible only to find her shoving at his shoulders. She got him back with fevered want, scratching nails down his chest as she directed her hands to the front of his pants. She undid them quicker than she had his shirt, humming something wantonly then pulling his dick free. His eyes shut again, having opened them to watch what she was about to do but unable to keep them from closing. He felt unbelievable and he knew if he didn't react beyond melting... he'd-- again, stop.

"Bria," he grumbled out, low and hungry before bringing his head down so eyes could fall onto her pants. He dropped his hands to them, undoing the fasten and zipper. He drew back from her carefully, pulling himself from her hand and working to get her out of her pants-- fingers hooking into her panties as well. When they were off her legs and thrown aside, he went for his own clothing-- removing the rest of it so he could quickly climb back onto her.

He practically fell against her as his mouth found hers again, messy and with desperate desire to be as close as he could. Arms wrapped around her to get his hands to the clasp of her bra, undoing it with fumbled efforts until it was discarded onto the floor as well.

Bare of clothing he nestled up against her, swollen head of his cock pushing to her entrance with impatient need-- "Sh-shit." he mumbled against her lips, finding the control he could take just slightly in the kiss as he guided himself into her. A moan and he was dropping a hand to her hip, squeezing at it tightly while the other hand shot up to grab the armrest of the couch for balance and aid. With it-- he sunk further, shifting to fill her with a longer moan that pitched with a whisper of her name, "Cambria.."