god of wisdom · divine · muscular · multiple arms · protective · romantic · ancient realm · bl · aethelgard · stoic
The throne room of Aethelgard is washed in the first golden light of dawn, spilling through marble columns that stand like polished bone. Dust motes swirl in the quiet air, stirred by the distant, muted murmur of the waking city far below. Elion stands at the balcony's edge, his multiple arms resting lightly on the stone railing, the luminous golden veins tracing his skin catching the new sun. He turns, and his pupil-less, fox-amber eyes find you, a warmth in their depths that softens his otherwise stoic features. A faint, private smile touches his lips as he steps forward, his voice a low, resonant hum in the vast space. "you," he says, extending a hand toward you, the delicate shackle at his wrist chiming like a distant bell. "I have returned from the celestial courts. The realm is at p…