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[b][center][color=#a85f41]SETTING FIRES[/color][/center][/b]
[/h1][/sup][/color][indent][sub][COLOR=#a85f41]sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴᴛᴏᴡɴ sᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ » ᴊᴀᴅᴇ ᴊᴀɢᴜᴀʀ[/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=#a85f41][b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6IAJOOmDMg]ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ[/url][/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr]
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	The concrete basement of Ares’ small office building was filled with shouts and curses, mixed with the fainter groans and punches meant to hurt. Then, like a sudden crescendo, Ares could hear the roar. Someone was lifted in the middle of the ring. The shouts went from chaotic to animalistically united. The man who did the lifting kept roaring, the shouts around him elevating him from mere mortal to a demi-god for a second, before he let his victim fall upon cardboard below. Industrial light bulbs hanging from the ceiling illuminated the scene. Casting light upon the blood and spit. The two men were now fighting each other on the ground. One on top of the other. Skin split, turning each face into a painting of pain and determination. Ares didn’t need to watch it. Hearing was enough for him. It raised him into that familiar state of mind. Even standing away, leaning against a column, he could hear the three taps. The shouts turned quiet. Three people rushed into the makeshift ring. Marked only by cardboard on the floor. Not in an attempt to make a drop to the floor softer. It was there to soak up the blood at first. Now it marked the end of the ring. That didn’t matter either anymore, really. There was as much blood outside the ring as on the cardboard.

The man who tapped out was dragged off. Sat down on one of those cheap plastic chairs. He looked knocked unconscious, but the way he slightly moved his heavily bruised fingers told everyone he was still awake. Blood and sweat and grime ran down his bare chest and then along his chiseled eight-pack. Spartans didn’t go to the gym to look good. That was just another consequence. They went to the gym because it made them ready for the ring. On the other side of the basement sat the winner. Alone with an ice pack wrapper around his fists and a woman, another Spartan, cleaning out the wound along his cheekbone with vodka, before it would be stitched up. There was no glory won here. The prestige. Nothing was solved but nothing needed solving anymore.

Ares, leaning against the concrete, was itching to join in on the fighting. The lack of results coming out of the last few days was grating on him. Failure was not something he wasn’t accustomed to. But this wasn’t about him. This was about doing good to his brother. This was about the promise he made to his mother. He would find his brother’s body and bury it. That was the least he deserved. After that though, he would find the one who killed him and unleash the fury he was keeping pent up now.

[b][i]“Boss.”[/i][/b] One of his Spartans, still dressed in suit and tie, said as he walked up behind Ares. [b][i]“We found something.”[/i][/b] Ares nodded and walked away from the ring of shouts. Upstairs, towards a small office. Two men sat before the desk. Dressed in long wool coats. A ripped up journal laid upon the desk. Ares picked it up.

[color=ED1C24]“What’s this?”[/color] The god of war asked. Going through the book. There were a few names he recognized. Nobody major. Nobody special. Gods but not much else.

[b][i]“We found in the Mayor’s apartment.”[/i][/b] One of the men said. Ares looked up to observe him. Not a Spartan. Not entirely trustworthy. He was a burglar. A professional one. Couldn’t be trusted. But was capable at his job. He gave him a slight, approving nod. In truth this was the first tangible clue he found all day. The failure, the inactivity, it had driven him mad. Mad enough to stay away from Julie for the night. Though he assured her everything was fine. Still, when he’d return home, he would come with the most beautiful flowers he could buy from Kore.

[color=ED1C24]“Anything else?”[/color] Ares asked.

[i][b]“A man left the apartment before we got in. Strange one. Couldn’t recognize him. No video.”[/b][/i] The second guy said. He was a burglar also. Associate to the first. Less trustful still and less skilled. If he were, he would’ve followed the person. Alas, this was the deal with apprentices. You had to teach them things. Nobody was born reliable. Ares pulled an envelope out of his coat and offered it to the first man. Who took it without counting and then shook Ares’ hand. [b][i]“A pleasure.”[/i][/b] He said, before leaving with a smile. The money would be the exact amount owed. Illegal didn’t mean without manners.

Ares kept going through the journal. Trying to put pieces together. It was just names. Names and more names. Until his finger fell upon one in peculiar. [i]‘Hebe’[/i]. [sub][color=ED1C24][i]What did she have to do with this? Why did Hephaestus have her name circled? More questions. Was she somehow involved? No, impossible. The Greeks were all deeply broken but not Hebe. Not ever smiling, ever sweet Hebe. Maybe she was the next target? Or maybe she’s involved in a way she couldn’t know?[/i][/color][/sub] Rubbing his brow, Ares sat back into his chair letting out a deep sigh. Frustrations kept mounting. Too many questions were being asked and he didn’t have enough answers.

Finally he had enough as he got up and walked out. Half an hour later the bouncer at Tlaz’s club let him right in. Stopping three boys that were first in line and protesting. [i][b]“He didn’t even have girls with them while they have two!?”[/b][/i] One of them exclaimed. It took one look from Ares to shut him up. The God of War wasn’t in the mood for shows or dancers. Instead he went straight for the bar and claimed a bar stool. Ordering a triple whiskey. Neat. Which he downed in one go. After which he ordered a second triple.

It was a typically busy day at the Jaguar, but that didn’t mean that a certain presence went unnoticed by the filth goddess herself. Tlazōlteōtl could spot the fury a league away, bobbing and weaving through her crowd of devoted patrons, a light touch upon each of their shoulders, whispers of thanks for coming and enjoying their nights within the walls of her establishment. Their eyes blown black, their desires and sinful natures coming out in full swing as they respond appropriately with nods and catcalls of their own. A smirk upon her painted lips, her temptations weren’t something any normal mortal could just brush off. [color=#00CC99][sub][i]But a god?[/i][/sub][/color]

In no time at all Tlazōlteōtl was leaning against her bar top to the right of her longest known friend. Her honey eyes trailed up his frame, his chest seemed to heave more than usual and she made it a point to announce it to him, [color=#00CC99]“Something’s gotten under your skin, War God.”[/color] Her tone was teasing, but there was no mistake in the concern in those eyes of hers.

A delicate hand was brought down onto his shoulder, a sign of support, a small squeeze before she shook him lightly, [color=#00CC99]”You lookin’ to let loose a little more than usual tonight? Or is it trouble you’re seeking?”[/color] Having known him for so long there was little the god could hide from her. His rage, his fury, the itch to be in on the battles and wars to come. But having to be resigned to being stuck; as they all were. She knew it all too well. So, the best she could do is to offer some reprieve that he wouldn’t elsewhere receive. She raised her hand to Hathor tending the bar, a look shot their way, but Tlazōlteōtl brushed it aside with raised fingers, [color=#00CC99]“Let’s get a few more lined up, Hath! It’s a let loose kinda night~”[/color]

For a very long moment Ares let the question float in his mind. Hoping the alcohol would make the answer clearer. It didn’t. [color=ED1C24]“I’m not sure.”[/color] He admitted, before downing his second drink. If he fought now there would be a promise of blood. He didn’t want that. Not here. Not for him.

As Hathor set about fixing their drinks, and just as Tlazōlteōtl turned to fix her attention onto her friend, a jerking commotion dragged her gaze to the back corner. A pair of mortals stood blocking the pathway from the dressing rooms to the front of the club, one of the girls standing there, clad in her last show’s attire and needing to get back there. [color=#00CC99]“One moment Ares,”[/color] as graceful as a jaguar herself, Tlazōlteōtl stalked up to the others, [color=#00CC99]“Oi! What’s going on here?”[/color]

[i][b]“Lalli, these dicks won’t get outta my way for the next dance…”[/b][/i] Tlazōlteōtl eyed the mortal men who dared hinder the flow of business and harass one of her girls. [color=#00CC99]“Move out of the way, or I will have you removed. Is that clear?”[/color] They seemed inclined to listen as they moved away from the two women, but something didn’t sit right with the goddess. Something that made the hairs along the back of her neck stand on end. With a shake to her head, she motioned to Ares that she would return in a moment, she needed to make sure the others, in the back, weren’t in distress either, and with that she passed through the threshold into the backroom with Citrine following closely behind. 

Ares just raised his glass in acknowledgement as he patiently awaited the next refill. Maybe he should start just ordering a bottle. Or two. Or three. Was it a three-bottle kind of night? He didn’t know. It was a slippery slope but one he couldn’t care for right now. His brother’s death, his promise, it was eating him alive. Together with something else. Behind him the three assholes that were making trouble at the dressing room came up to him.

[i][b]“Oh look who it is.”[/b][/i] One of them, the ring leader Ares guessed, said as he laughed with his two buddies. [b][i]“Man this is why we had to wait outside longer? Look at this excuse of a man. Shit dude, you look like you want to drown yourself.”[/i][/b] Ares ignored it. They were stupid. Idiots. He could take it. The insults were nothing new. He rolled with the punches his entire life. And when most of those punches came from your own family, a bunch of strangers couldn’t hurt you.

Despite his clear disinterest, one of them thought it smart to shove Ares. Who barely moved and didn’t even turn around to face them. [i][b]“Pff. Pussy.”[/b][/i] One said as they passed him and leaned up against the bar. [b][i]“Yo chiquitta!”[/i][/b] They hollered at one of the bartenders. A girl, not Hathor. Like all people that worked for Tlaz she was gorgeous and exotic. [i][b]“Hey do some shots with us!”[/b][/i] They kept yelling and hollering at her. While she did her best to ignore them and work through the drink orders of everyone else. [b][i]“Baby just a shot of tequila. C’mon.”[/i][/b] They kept going. Ares clenched his fist. It wasn’t worth it. Not them. Not here. Then one spat at her. [b][i]“Bi-“[/i][/b]

Ares had his hand on the back of the boy’s head and slammed him right into the marble bar counter. Like a rag doll the boy’s body recoiled and fell down. Blood poured out of his nose. On the ground he shouted: “What the fuck!?” His two buddies backed off a bit. Ares grabbed the guy on the ground with the bleeding nose, the one who almost hurled the insult, by both his lapels and hauled him upright.

[color=ED1C24]“Apologize to the lady.”[/color] He said with an icy expression. 

Then a fist came from the side towards him. Hitting him right in the cheek. Forcing Ares to turn his face and dropping the first guy. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. Ares slowly turned towards the second guy, the one that threw the fist. It was a good one. [color=ED1C24]“I’ll give you one chance to walk away, son.”[/color] Ares said with the same, icy glare. The hit never fazed him. The trained boxer, instead, hit him again. Three hits. Right, left, right. Ares took each hit square to the face. His skin along his cheekbone was split. Bleeding. Looking worse than it was. He spat out some blood. Something began to flare up inside of the god of war. Something that shouldn’t but he couldn’t control it anymore. He grabbed the boxer by the collar. Ares headbutted him in a lightning fast fashion. Crushing his nose entirely. A flurry of left-handed fists then rained down upon the boxer. Each hit dimming the light in his eyes.

From behind him, Ares heard a scream. A second later the still screaming third guy jumped on his back with his arms around the god’s neck. The boxer was dropped and then the third guy was thrown off and slammed down against the ground. Both of them were groaning on the floor. The boxer with his face swollen and bleeding as well. But as Ares turned around he was faced with the nose-bleeding first guy, brandishing a butterfly knife. [i][b]“Fuck. You!”[/b][/i] He shouted, pointing the knife at Ares.

Something deep inside Ares snapped. Blood boiled. Fire ignited in his eyes. The same fire that was almost unleashed at the Conclave. He stepped forward towards the guy, who tried to go backwards. Ares wasn’t backing off. He didn’t even look afraid. He was just going forward. Pushing his prey in a corner. Making him afraid. Until the first guy’s pressure was too much. A shout, a lunge. The knife pierced Ares’ shirt and then his skin. He didn’t care. It didn’t stop him. He grabbed the guy by the throat and lifted him right off the ground. Letting gravity choke him. Wondering only if he should crush the kid’s windpipe.

Tlazōlteōtl was diligent in checking in on the dancers in the backroom, making the rounds and  speaking with each one individually, noticing that they were all fine. If nothing else they were pissed. This wasn’t the first time those three men specifically had been in and harassed the lot of them. Knowledge that boiled the blood in Tlazōlteōtl’s veins. [color=#00CC99]“They won’t be an issue any longer.[/color] Tlazōlteōtl was unable to continue going over the itinerary for the rest of the evening when a number of screams and shouts were heard above the music just past the doorway. Without another word spoken to the dancers she was rushing out the door towards the noise. 

There amidst it all stood Ares. Blood boiling Ares. The assholes from earlier crowded around him. That was too generous on the mortals part. Two laid sprawled out on the ground, groaning in agony as they bled all over her floors and bar top. She was only a few steps into the main room of the club when the screaming picked back up and then there was the glint of a blade, the sounds of fabric being ripped, new blood spilling to the floor. Tlazōlteōtl shouted for Ares as she rushed across the club in record time, [color=#00CC99][b]“Ar-!”[/b][/color] She caught herself just in time as she reached with both hands to grip onto his forearm, suspending the guy in midair.

[color=#00CC99]“Let him go… c’mon. He’s not worth it. None of them are…”[/color] the words uttered from her lips were soft and harsh at the same time, directed only to the war god beneath her touch. In the briefest of moments, with her grasp tightening on him, she prayed that she was able to do enough, to calm him enough, as she attempted to [i]cleanse[/i] him of the rage he felt in the moment. At least long enough for the filth to be swept up from her establishment and never return. Though, she would be lying if she were to utter that they didn’t deserve [i]some[/i] sort of punishment. But it wouldn’t bode well for her, or him, if they were to be dealt with in such a public way. Under normal circumstances she would have allowed him to act upon his nature, to deal with those he saw fit to find themselves at the end of his fierceness. However, she didn’t need to give Athena yet one more reason to make a surprise visit to the club. [color=#00CC99]“[i]Alex,[/i]”[/color] she called to him, he just seemed to look right through her. The storm was still raging behind his eyes. She wondered if she was ever about to get through to him.

Something strange was happening. Something new. The fires nobody could quench were suddenly receding. Becoming mute somehow. Mute enough at least for the goddess’ words to reach him. He blinked a few times, rapidly. Pulling himself out of the raging trance. The soft touch on his arm beckoned him to stop, and he did. The kid fell down from his grip on a bar stool. He coughed hard, his lungs gasping for air. But Ares’ other arm was quick on the back of his head, turning him towards the girl he disrespected. It wasn’t about their worth. It was about the girl behind the bar’s worth. [i][b]“I’m sorry!”[/b][/i] The kid yelled. [b][i]“Okay? I’m sorry I never should’ve said those things. Please man… Please…” [/i][/b]The kid was sobbing. Blood and tears ran together in a mixture of pathetic-ness. But Ares did release him again. Two bouncers had made their way through the throng of people and proceeded to guide out the three beaten guys. [color=ED1C24]“Wait!”[/color] Ares yelled. The bouncers and the three guys stopped and turned to look at him as he pulled out the butterfly knife that was still in him and offered it back. The kid’s just turned away and hurried out.

Ares took a look at his own hands then. They were bloody, bruised, split. [color=ED1C24]“I should… wash up I think.”[/color] He locked eyes with Tlaz’s. A moment ago he wouldn’t have recognized those topaz colored eyes. She didn’t deserve that. Slowly he reached out to her with a still shaking hand. With his hand on her cheek he softly brushed it with his thumb. [color=ED1C24]“I’m sorry.”[/color] Words always failed him. Sorry was not nearly enough. But he didn’t know what else to do or say.

The words drifted to her ears, even as the DJ picked the music backup and life around them seemed to go back to normal. But it wasn’t normal. Not with the heat radiating from him, from his hand - his touch. She couldn’t help but lean into the feeling. It was comforting and familiar in a way... His words came back to her, and she had to frown a little. He didn’t owe her an apology. He had done nothing worthy enough to utter those words. Shaking her head Tlazōlteōtl grabbed the hand resting on her cheek, reluctantly pulling it away, but not releasing it from her grasp, [color=#00CC99]“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,”[/color] a smirk on her lips and she was pulling him towards the bathrooms. Tlazōlteōtl was not blind the knowing looks shot their way from the employees - Hathor included. A roll of her eyes and she was pushing the door to the bathrooms open and dragging the god of war in after her. 

From the little light that was emitting from above the sinks and inset into the ceiling, Tlazōlteōtl was not equipped to fully examine Ares’ wounds. Hoisting herself atop the counter, and getting situated near the crystallized rock sinks, she ran her hands under the faucet, collecting some water to sprinkle and dab onto the hand she still held. He was too far away, [color=#00CC99]“Scoot closer. Or are you scared I’ll bite… [i]Alex~[/i]”[/color] his name rolled off her tongue in a way that should have been considered illegal, her eyes holding some mischief to them as she peered through her lashes at him.

Taking his stunned form she held his hand a bit tighter before pulling him closer, situating him between her legs, thighs resting against his own. [color=#00CC99]“There, better. Now I can tend to your hands properly.”[/color] The amount of blush rushing to her cheeks was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing if he couldn’t see. She thanked her past self for the brilliant idea of low lighting in the bathrooms. It has saved her this night for sure.

It was silent between the two of them, if only for a moment, though the dull thumping of the music from the main room was pulsing through the speakers and through the walls. Sending vibrations throughout the entirety of the building. She could feel those same small tremors through the counter she sat herself upon, not thinking of the consequences of her actions. Clearing her throat as she continued to wash and clean his hands, sneaking a glance at him. She couldn't help but to admire his strong, sharp jawline decorated with stubble, providing him with a ruggedness she much rather preferred than that brief moment in time when he had decided to go baby faced. A laugh was pulled from her at the thought.

[color=#00CC99]“You always did look better with facial hair,"[/color] she muttered mainly for herself rather than an audience, though she didn’t miss the way his other hand twitched ever so slightly. [color=#00CC99]“You know, you have nothing to apologize for…”[/color] this time she spoke the words directly to him, pulling a hand down to run under the water, his large frame easily towering over her.

Ares’ small smile on  his face, formed by Tlaz’s comment on his facial hair, vanished when she told him he shouldn’t apologize. Deep down though, he knew he should’ve have. He didn’t regret those words and he wouldn’t take them back. Still, only Tlaz could ever say he didn’t have anything to apologize for after beating up three guys. [color=ED1C24]“They were rude to your girl.”[/color] He simply said while looking down at his fists.

Here, alone with Tlaz, Ares felt the world suddenly retreat. Leaving only this dim lit bathroom. The soft thumbing of the music outside felt further away than ever. While the smell of sandalwood and amber banished all other thoughts. Every connection to the outside world faded. It felt like he was in a fight. With every touch of the goddess, Ares felt a jolt go through him. Forcing his attention more and more on her. Like a fight, he felt his heartbeat rage. His skin turned hot. The water on his fists turned to gently rising wisps of steam. Everything else, every connection felt distant now. Unimportant. The way a fight for your life makes every other worry vanish. Despite the outburst, despite the fighting, it felt as if something was still chained within him. Begging, trashing, pleading, and yearning to be released.

His eyes couldn’t let go of her. Those topaz eyes and her full lips were drawing him in. Right then, right there he wanted her. He wanted the only one who seemed to understand him. The one he didn’t need to lie to. But there was one thing he had to be sure of. His ex had cursed and blessed the both of them at the Conclave. [color=ED1C24]“What did you see in the pink smoke?”[/color] He asked, while raising Tlaz’s chin. Making sure he could look into her eyes.

Again, his touch sent heat coursing through her veins, the way he looked down at her with those deep browns, almost like the dirt after a storm, muddied but there was something else hiding under them… with a sort of curious reverence. As if he were staring into her soul, searching for something. The smile she adorned only grew at the sight of his own, faltering only slightly at his question, her eyes taking note of the way his lips formed the words. Tongue darting out to lick her own lip as she mulled over the visions that danced through her mind caused by Aphrodite’s parlor trick. 

Tlazōlteōtl turned once more away from him, only slightly, grabbing a cloth in order to dab his knuckles dry, spending an absorbent amount of time just touching him. A sigh of remembrance passing through her, [color=#00CC99]”Centeotl… the maize fields,”[/color] a sad smile now gracing her features, [color=#00CC99]“The harvest season, the cicadas, sour dirt and musk. And heat. [i][b]Gods[/b] the heat[/i]… a silly vision.”[/color] She tried to shrug it off with a chuckle, before returning the question to him, the motions of her hands halting but never pulling away from him instead, giving him a slight squeeze and turning her topaz gaze to look up into his face.

[i]Not him.[/i] But that was a vain thought. Of course she longed for home. Ares could understand that. For a second he remained silent. Letting his own answer roil through his mind. It was selfish. Pained. Yet his heart, his entire body! It cried out now. [color=ED1C24]“I-“[/color] As much as he wanted to say it though, the truth felt like a lump in his throat. Like a lie that would sunder lives. He couldn’t say it. Not like that. Slowly he caressed Tlaz’s face with both his hands. [color=ED1C24]“I… didn’t see who I should’ve seen.”[/color] Chains were held taut inside of him. Barely holding in that selfish need as he closed his eyes and inched closer to Tlaz’s lips. Everything was in the hands of the fates now, and with every millisecond Ares feared and then accepted the rejection that would no doubt come.

For the third time that evening his hands were caressing her face and she found herself leaning into the warmth. Basking in the comfort and craving more. She nearly missed the anxiousness in his posture, the thoughts crossing his mind dying on his lips never to truly be spoken. Tlazōlteōtl wanted to ask him what was wrong, to comfort him and coax that chaotic mind of his into a lull that would relax him. However the moment never came where she could act on those thoughts as his words reached her ears she had little time to process before his lips were pressed into hers.

It wasn't forceful, like one would expect of the God of War. If anything it was soft, apprehensive, as if waiting on a verdict to be issued on his actions. There was heat beneath her skin, her fingertips, surrounding her completely. Ares smelled of musk and smoke and heat and it was in that moment she realized the meaning behind those stupid visions. The reason Centeotl faded into a smoke storm brewing… their friendship through the years, always coming to each other's aid. With a renewed vigor, no longer caught off guard she raised her hands, still damp, to card through his dark locks pulling his body closer, chests pressed against one another. Tlazōlteōtl sighed into the kiss, tongue swiping along the seam of his lips, back pressed against the mirror behind.

Something about this moment, Ares and her, all of it, felt right. [sub][i]Had the fates finally granted her what she had always longed for?[/i][/sub] Her mind was muddled, foggy. The only thing existing was him. His presence, his touch, the slight scrap of his hairs against her skin. [color=#00CC99][i]"Ares…"[/i][/color] his name fell from her lips like a prayer and she hoped to every power that this was real and not a delayed side effect of Aphrodite's tricks.

[i]His name.[/i] Like a spell it unleashed him. His lust. His yearning. Unchained. She drew him closer. He pushed his body against her. Pushing further against the mirror. Pushing a little further still. The kiss had turned ravenous. He wanted her. He needed her! His skin lit up as it touched hers. To him there was no more doubt. No more fear. Everything was good in this single moment. Yet his hunger grew greater, as his kisses trailed off her lips, down the side of her neck. Lower… [i]lower…[/i]

The door opened. Eyes snapped open. The outside came in. The faint thumping of music turning full blast. Singing. Dancing. Laughter. It flooded Ares, pushing everything he felt in that moment aside. Making him remember. There was something beyond this room. There was [i]someone [/i]beyond this room. He pulled further away from Tlazōlteōtl. His hands let her go as they began to shake. [color=ED1C24]“Fuck.”[/color] He breathed, looking down in shame. [color=ED1C24]“Fuck. Fuck. [i][b]Fuck![/b][/i]”[/color] He could barely breathe. The walls were closing in. Caging him like a wild animal. Passion turned to dread as he pushed aside the people that had just answered. Going into the throng of people. He had to get out. He had to go back. With shoves and pushes he made his way through the crowds of people not caring who he offended or even pushed away too hard. He had to go out. He had to go out. The dark streets of Seattle were out there. He could hide there. He could vanish there. [i][b]“You okay boss?”[/b][/i] He heard someone say. It was faint. He pushed the man aside and then finally made it out.

He stopped for a second, just outside the strip club. His breath turned to vapor. He looked up, but there were no stars. All around him there were only streets and lamps. He didn’t know which way to take. Where to go. He only knew he had to get out of there. [i]Go away.[/i] And so he vanished into the cold Seattle night.
[hr][right] [sub]collab: [@KZOMBI3] mentions: [@Akayaofthemoon] [@baraquiel][/sub]
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