he mortal wanted to know what a God dreams. The mortal wanted to know.
Warnings meant nothing, obviously. Might as well be talking to himself
as talking to Joxer. It was as effective. Maybe more so, since at least
this way, he was sure he was making an impression.
He'd tried to explain, tried to tell Joxer that the Gods brought the
caverns down because the damned mortals wouldn't shut up. But, of course,
Joxer had somehow missed that part. Took the whole thing as some sort of
romantic story when it was supposed to be a warning. Joxer was far too
obtuse for hints. No, you had to hit this mortal over the head before he
And he'd had more than enough of lessons. He was tired. He was exhausted,
really. And he didn't need to sleep, but Joxer had drifted off after their
exertions, as mortals always did, and so Ares had let himself drift off
as well. For just a short while, he had luxuriated in the freedom of being
away from his mortal, letting the darkness wrap around him, filling him.
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