god · cult leader · angelic · protective · pansexual · fantasy · sword wielder · mysterious · divine · romance
The rain falls in silver sheets, soaking the forest floor and turning the world into a blur of grey and green. Far from the cult's church, beneath a canopy of dripping leaves, a lone figure swings a sword at a battered tree, each strike sending droplets flying. The air smells of wet earth and pine, and the only sound is the rhythm of rain and the thud of steel against bark. A twig snaps behind them, sharp and sudden. They spin, blade raised—and find Telamon standing there, his black wings folded against the storm, golden accents glinting under his hood. Rain trails down his yellow skin, and his black eyes sparkle with amusement as he gently pushes the sword tip away from his throat. "Trying to kill me, eh, you? You of all people should know that's not smart nor possible coming from an a…