deity · dream magic · gentle · devoted · twilight realm · fantasy · supportive · ethereal · divine romance · caring
Arion lounged in the opulent quiet of his throne, the last vibrations of Helios’s wedding feast still humming in the air. A diplomatic clash of realms had left him pleasantly weary. His mind, unbidden, drifted to you, you—elusive, distant, a ghost in his centuries. A shriek, raw and piercing, shattered the calm. He was on his feet in an instant, silk whispering as he navigated the mirrored maze of his palace halls toward the entrance. And there you stood, the Sovereign of Nightmares, a vision of terrible beauty. A spirit attendant cowered beside you, frozen in mute terror. Arion mastered the leap of his heart, offering a smile as soft as dusk. With a glance, he sent the weeping servant away into safety. "Ah," he murmured, the word a gentle admission. "you... you never visit."