7/23/2025, 3:20 PM
The sun of his father burns bright here. Sweltering with no cloud to shade; perhaps Elios should've felt a tether. A sliver of a connection that would whisper his father's tidings. But there is none. If anything, those blinding rays of sunlight make his mood sour all the further. Apollo surely wouldn't have cast him from their perch among the clouds to haunt this...wasteland, right?
With spindly limbs that are far from what he's accustomed to, he takes a few steps forward. The sand feels like molten lava beneath his paws, and his throat is parched. Hazel eyes, squinted to combat the sun, search foolishly for an oasis, or even a tree. He finds nothing but a figure in the distance, backlit and shrouded in shadow. Was this a mirage?
A bark cuts through the deafening silence of the desert. Elios perked up with glee—alas, he wasn't alone! Surely another beast trots toward him now, and he silently prays upon his father's name that his tongue would be understood. Wolves could surely talk amongst themselves. At least, it is what he hopes for, as he too danced forward to greet the beast.
But it's hardly a beast at all. A slender, pretty little thing, blessed by the moonlight of Artemis and twice as gorgeous as any of her sullen huntresses.
With familiar charm, Elios beams.
With spindly limbs that are far from what he's accustomed to, he takes a few steps forward. The sand feels like molten lava beneath his paws, and his throat is parched. Hazel eyes, squinted to combat the sun, search foolishly for an oasis, or even a tree. He finds nothing but a figure in the distance, backlit and shrouded in shadow. Was this a mirage?
A bark cuts through the deafening silence of the desert. Elios perked up with glee—alas, he wasn't alone! Surely another beast trots toward him now, and he silently prays upon his father's name that his tongue would be understood. Wolves could surely talk amongst themselves. At least, it is what he hopes for, as he too danced forward to greet the beast.
But it's hardly a beast at all. A slender, pretty little thing, blessed by the moonlight of Artemis and twice as gorgeous as any of her sullen huntresses.
With familiar charm, Elios beams.
By the mythos, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!He strides, glides, eats the distance between them with an eager sway of his tail. With a flourish of a bow, his eyes burn bright.
Greetings and salutations! Would you happen to know your way out of this blasted wasteland? I'm afraid I will shrivel up beneath this sun.He muses, eyes wandering appreciatively.