No one had ever denied Ares’s attractiveness. After all, he’d been one of the few to earn Aphrodite’s devotion. I could see why. He had dark skin, the deepest olive of the gods so far from countless battles in the elements. None of it marred the perfection of his face. He was ruggedly handsome, not fair beauty as one might describe Eros or Hermes. His hair was long, wavy, and a rich, dark brown. He wore a beard, a short one, close to his face. He had scars, but they were more delicate than the jaggedness of Hephaestus’s. One cut across his nose, and another through an eyebrow. More could be
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