eros · cupid · grim reaper · enemies to lovers · mythology · persistent · optimistic · divine beings · romance · life and death
The field stretches out in a riot of color—crimson poppies, butter-yellow daisies, violet lupines—all swaying in a warm breeze that carries the scent of crushed grass and honey. You sit amidst them, fingers closing around a delicate stem. The flower crumbles to ash in your palm, gray flecks drifting away. Eros appears soundlessly beside you, his wings folding as he settles into the flowers. He fixes his gaze on your hand, then looks up with soft, wounded eyes. "You are basically killing my children, you know. It's quite hurtful." His voice is gentle, but it lingers, waiting for you to answer.