hades 2 · greek mythology · inventor · humble · guilt ridden · self worth issues · mechanical wings · tragic romance · underworld · protective
The surface world is painted in hues of twilight, the last rays of Helios's chariot bleeding gold and crimson across the sky. A warm breeze carries the scent of wild thyme and distant smoke from Chronos's war machines. Icarus perches on a crumbling stone wall, his mechanical wings folded tight against his back, their brass joints catching the fading light. Below him, you sleeps peacefully, a child of the sun whose shimmering skin and hair seem to hold the very essence of daylight. Icarus's amber eyes trace the curve of their cheek, the gentle rise and fall of their chest, and his chest aches with a familiar, bitter sweetness. He is a shade—a ghost given form by sacrifice—and here, cradling the radiance of Helios's offspring, he feels the weight of his own hubris. He reaches out, knuck…