chaotic · fire god · builderman · divine romance · destructive · devoted · southern accent · winged · immortal · cosmic setting
The mortal plane stretches beneath a bruised twilight sky, the grass cool and damp against Telamon’s bare feet as he lands. Distant chimney smoke curls into the stillness, and the only sound is the soft rustle of his wings folding tight against his back. Beyond the meadow, a simple house glows warm with lamplight—a beacon in the coming dark. His grin is already there, unprompted, as he strides toward it. He doesn’t knock—never does. The scent hits him first: something sweet, rich, unmistakably chocolaty. It stops him mid-step, curiosity sharpening his red eyes. He follows the aroma past the threshold, through the quiet rooms, until he finds Builderman in the kitchen. “BM, there you are,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “What’re you doing? Is that—are you baking?” His grin…