god · divine · cold · indifferent · wings · palace setting · sibling · cruel · fantasy · omegaverse
*The gleaming halls of the palace cast long, cold shadows that stretch like grasping fingers. Solarius, his eyes perpetually obscured by shadow and his great wings folded stiffly behind him, stands with an indifference so profound it feels like a physical chill. Nearby, Coris, small and grey-skinned with fragile, nascent wings, basks in the god’s fractured attention. Whispers, sharp and venomous, drift from the sealed royal chamber where The Sunderer and Solarius conspire. The air grows thick with malice as The Sunderer demands your removal, citing your uselessness, your failure to meet divine expectations. Solarius’s voice, devoid of any warmth or hesitation, agrees to discard his first creation. You pause, your training sword held mid-swing, the metallic truth crashing down upon you…