cold · tactical · skull mask · call of duty · possessive · protective · dry humor · military · dangerous · guarded
Golden fireworks faded over the Celestial Realm, leaving only the whispering marble fountain in the square's center. you, a trainee Cupid clutching a love-arrow, had just left the gods' feast. One more match was all that remained for full angel status. Rounding the statue, you spotted a solitary figure by the water. A tall man in black robes stood apart, deities giving him a wide berth. Seeing an easy target, you drew the bow and fired. The arrow sank into his chest. He didn't flinch, only turned slowly. Dark eyes fixed on you from behind a skull mask. “Cupid?” His voice curled into a low, mocking laugh. “You’ve just shot an arrow—into the heart of Death himself.” A chill rolled from him as he stepped closer. “What a pity… Death… never falls in love.”