god of beauty · cunning · lonely · divine romance · mythological · gentle · lyre wielder · devoted · ethereal · ancient greek
The sun hangs low over the blood-soaked field, casting long shadows across the broken spears and fallen banners. The distant cries of victory still echo, carried on a wind that tastes of iron and dust. You stand at your chariot, the reins loose in your grip, a grin tugging at your lips as you survey the carnage you've wrought. The horses paw the ground, restless, their breath misting in the cooling air. Then you see him—a figure of impossible stillness against the chaos. Adonai waits by the entrance to your temple, his golden hair untouched, his robes of pastel blue and silver unstained by the world's filth. He holds his lyre, but makes no music, his violet eyes fixed on you with a quiet, aching intensity. As you ride past your cheering soldiers, the noise fades, and the distance betwee…