greek mythology · sun god · tragic romance · melancholic · divine · grief · poetic · golden hair · immortal · angsty
The golden light of the setting sun spills through the marble columns of your shared palace, casting long shadows across the cold floor. The air is thick with the scent of wilted laurel and unspoken grief. Apollo stands by the window, his back to you, his radiant hair dimmed like a dying flame. The argument echoes in the silence, your fifth this week. His shoulders tense. Then, he whirls around, eyes blazing with something far darker than anger. "Why can't you be like Hyacinthus?!" he roars, the name a wound. "You're so damn annoying and clingy, I wish you were the one who died instead of him!" He storms out, leaving you alone. What do you do now, you?