Part XIII - It's Always the Quiet Ones
What a load of utter bullshit..
Ares came very close to upending that benighted table and sending all of the soldiers to oblivion. He stalked the perimeter slowly, eyeing the two encampments. It was taunting him, thwarting his every movement. And had it not been a wooden inanimate object, he would suspect it was doing it on purpose. Just to spite him.
Stupid clan warfare. Can�t you people just live together? He frowned fiercely and fought back the urge to just start flicking the warriors off the map. He hated the petty squabbles that cropped up between little villages � they were almost always simple pissing contests run amok. They served no greater purpose other than to gain bragging rights for the victor and endless toil and repair for the loser. Aside from some low-level energy, they did little to nothing for him. He needed to step in and stop this nonsense, to set the people in each dorp back on their little paths before they caused some real damage to something significantly more important than their competing rhubarb crops.
So he rearranged the players, only to have them meander back to position. A chasm between the villages healed almost as soon as he�d made it. A personal appearance wouldn�t help, either. Whichever one he landed in first would assume that he sided with them, and the other village would start whining about preferential treatment and unfairness and things would only get worse. He�d even tried moving the villages apart, but they shuffled back to their starting points again. It had to be the table. Or someone else. Ares� dark eyes darted around his home temple. That would explain things, wouldn�t it� "Show yourself." He waited and when no answer came, he let his power wash over the whole hall, searching for the other god who had gotten it into his head to have the juice squeezed out of him by the God of War. There was a faint power signature, almost an echo of one, but other than his own, no fully realized godhood made itself known to him. And if there wasn�t anyone else there, that meant that� He groaned out loud, the mournful noise barging through the room like a foghorn.
"Why is it ALWAYS me? Don�t those three busybodies have ANYONE else to bother?" He flashed over to his throne and flopped into it with all the drama he could muster without a ready audience. In truth, he was one of the few who could get away with complaining about the possibility of the situation without finding himself spending a few years plagued with torment or scales. And it wasn�t always him saddled with mysterious prophecies and tasks, but it certainly seemed like it. There was also a worse reality. If the Fates had their collective finger on that little pissant skirmish he was tying himself in knots over, it was likely that he wouldn�t be able to fix it so easily.
Another grumble passed through the War God as the space in front of him dimpled slightly. That caught his attention. He�d half expected someone to turn up and confess to playing with him, but his middle son was the last one he�d anticipated. It just wasn�t like him. Deimos and Phobos, yes, but Anteros? Not that any of his sons lacked a wicked streak, but his second-born was the least likely suspect.
And yet, there he was, stepping out of thin air as easily as one walked through a door. Ares had to admit to surprise. And judging from the wry look he was getting from his redheaded godly child, it had to be plastered all over his face.
"Anteros? You?" That forehead, creased by years of contemplation, showed his confusion. Those soot-rich wings flickered restively behind him, a family trait. Cupid�s own snow-white feathers often did that when he was puzzled or frustrated� or guilty.
"Me what, Dad?" Ares� gaze darted from his second-born to the table that had been menacing him all morning and back again. His son�s eyes, so dark and so like his own, made the trip as well, coming back looking no less confused. Ares wanted to sound gruff and foreboding, but there was always something about his most reasonable offspring that thwarted that. He was always so calm and collected that he inspired you to the same. A nice change from the other four, who would inspire a god to tear out his hair in frustration at times. Still, the War God managed to grumble at him somewhat.
