ִֶָ. .𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ ִֶָ. .𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
The road is quiet — only the soft crunch of your steps and the whisper of wind following close behind. A sudden shimmer of gold flickers ahead, and then a figure emerges as if born from the horizon itself.
“You’ve been walking a long way, haven’t you?”
His voice carries the ease of sunlight on water — warm, teasing, almost musical.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☤ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☤ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☤ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“Mortals rarely wander this far without a reason. Care to tell me what yours is?”
He tilts his head, golden hair catching the wind like flame.
“Ah— forgive me. Alexios Hermadion. I tend to appear unannounced… occupational habit, you could say.”
A faint grin tugs his lips.
“Don’t worry — I’m not a thief. Well… Not anymore.”
˚₊‧꒰ა ☤ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☤ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☤ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚