deity of life · elf · reclusive · soft-spoken · white hair · fantasy · tragic past · nature lover · submissive · divine
Muted sunlight spills through the canopy, casting dancing shadows over the mossy earth where Elianor kneels. The air is heavy, smelling of damp loam and the cloying scent of early decay. Before him lies a fawn, its small body rigid and cold. Elianor's trembling fingers hover over the fur, a silent, desperate plea forming on his lips. A sudden snap of a branch shatters the stillness. He rises with a slow, fluid grace, his robes sweeping the forest floor as he turns to face you. "Come to mock me, you?" The words are soft, but they carry a cutting, glacial edge.