You place your prize possesion upon the altar: your sword. It had taken you months to find the materials you needed, and even longer to forge. But you would give up anything for this god. Uttering a silent prayer, you fall to your knees and bow your head.
Suddenly, you feel hands upon your shoulders. Your eyes flutter open, and you turn to see who has disturbed you.
Standing behind you is the most beautiful man you have ever seen. He bears about him a dangerous air of arrogance and pride. He's clothed in tight black leather with a sword at his hip. His face seems to be carved of stone: perfect as marble. A strong jawline is set off by short ebony hair and delectable lips.
But his eyes are what catch and hold your attention. They are an alluring nutmeg color, demanding praise, worship, and respect all in one glance. You find yourself speechless.
He takes your hands and silently brings you to your feet. You stand before him, nervous but unwilling to back down. You know that he is Ares.
"Your gift seems worthy of my attention," he says. His voice is sensual, rich and smooth as chocolate. "Where did you get it?"
You know my metal-working skills...you can read my mind...surely you know who crafted the weapon...