Ares' eyes widened, taken aback by Eleanor's fierce retort. He felt a pang of surprise and admiration. Standing before her, he wondered if he had misspoken.
His intention was to claim her as his, to make it clear that she belonged to him alone. But perhaps his words had come out wrong, sounding possessive and controlling instead of protective and loving.
He watched, mesmerized, as she turned her attention back to the snow, her hands moving with exactness and care. She patted the snow smooth, then rose, and walked away to gather another massive pile, leaving him to ponder his mistake.
Ares stood there like the dumbest being in existence as she worked her magic on the snow. She transformed the pile into a perfectly crafted snowball, slightly smaller than the first, and pushed it into place with a soft grunt.
He couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing?"
