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18 December 2015 @ 10:50 pm
graveyard  
IN THE END he out-lived everyone. That was how it always was, and how it would always continue to be. The price of being a god, of being immortal. For the majority of the thousands of years he had lived through this price was miniscule. His closest conversations were held on Olympus; most mortal interactions he made came and went in a way that was brief or immemorable. When they departed he wouldn't note their absence. But every so often - in fact it was rare enough that it hadnt happened in any recent centuries - there might be a difference. A mortal that catches his eye so much it even makes the goddesses notice.

                                              She had been that difference.

And now as he stood at her grave Ares found that he wasn't forgetting her existence, it wasn't passing him by like scenery on a train. Instead the memories lingered with him. He could still remember her laughter, her smile, the way she would furrow her eyebrows at him when he was about to do something she disapproved of. Their interaction had not been meaningless and for the first time in perhaps ever Ares found himself truly feeling the weight of the price that came with being an immortal.

Some myth might say that the gods saw humans as disposable, and this was true on ocassion but that hadn't been Rey. She was a source for him to stay on Earth rather than reside in Olympus. But now rather than wake up next to her ( he would take in her sleeping form before she would wake up at make a comment about why he was staring at her. a statement to which ares would compliment her and a resounding angry blush might grace Rey's cheeks ) the Olympian would wake up alone. Or worse he would try to fill the void with meaningless bodies. That seemed more of Ares way. To not dwell on emotions or express grief and sadness - but to find distractions and act as if he was unbothered by it all. A god wounded by the loss of a mortal? Ha!

Standing over her grave and having such a thought brought a shame that he wasn't used to. For should anyone look into the history of a god or goddess they might find that when they lose a mortal companion is when they are hurt the most. Even if he were to try to deny it there would be no avoiding the truth of what Rey meant to him. She had made him smile and she had made him angry. From joy to frustration to dislike and love - they had all been experienced with her. Now he could never experience them with her again. Ares became someone she trusted and in return he confided in her - though that didn't seem to come until later on. After they grew past their smart comments ( though that never truly disappeared ) and became content with what they were.

"You left some of your shirts at my apartment. Well - technically they were my shirts but...." he had lost count of how many times he would walk in to see her curled up in one of his shirts. And now he didn't have it in him to get rid of them or wash them, not when their scent was the last thing he had of her. "I considered going to my uncle and talking to him but I don't think bringing mortals back from the dead is something he specializes in." Considered under sold it, Ares had been on the doorstep of the Underworld before he stopped himself.

I miss you. Those were the words he wished he could say. In his mind he could practically hear Rey teasing him about it. Or she might stumble her way through a long-winded way of saying I miss you too. Rather than leave parting words, words that wouldn't do any justice Ares merely leaned down to place a bouqet by the headstone.