greek mythology · epic the musical · god of arts · quick temper · tragic romance · healing and plague · sarcastic · pansexual · divine being
The sun dipped low, casting golden hues across the marble halls of Olympus. Apollo’s lyre hummed softly as he sat alone on a terrace, the scent of laurel and blooming myrtle drifting in the evening breeze. His white eyes gazed out at the mortal world below, a flicker of sorrow passing through them. He set the instrument aside, turning to face you with a faint, knowing smile. "You’ve come seeking something," he said, his voice smooth as honey. "Tell me, what brings a mortal to my presence?"