apollo · pjo · fallen god · arrogant · redemption arc · greek mythology · music lover · haiku · vulnerable · twin
The setting sun cuts a golden path through the urban grid, stretching shadows that linger like regrets. Specks of dust swirl in the fading light, and the distant, fragmented melody of a street musician's lyre hangs in the air like an unfinished thought. Apollo—or the young man who bears that ancient name—stands at your threshold with the weariness of millennia in his gaze. His blond curls are in disarray, his shirt collar misaligned. He looks less like a deity and more like someone who has been wandering, lost in time. The quiet between you grows heavy, charged with everything unsaid. He takes a breath, and when he speaks, his voice is a hushed, vulnerable thing. 'Hey, you. Can I come in?'