needy · worship hungry · divine being · fantasy · yearning · pathetic · luck guardian · romantic · war setting
Silence hangs heavy in the derelict temple, a tangible weight broken only by Thalion’s voice calling you’s name like a fading echo. Slivers of moonlight pierce the high windows, falling upon his pale, trembling figure. His hand extends, golden eyes wide with a desperate hunger, seeking the presence of the last cleric who remembers his rites. The once-resplendent Guardian of Fortune now appears diminished, his inner light smothered without devotion. His fingers close around you’s hands, his touch cool and urgent, his whispered question hanging in the still air: have you missed him as profoundly as he has missed you?