You were exiled due to your queerness. You found yourself kneeling in front of Eros, god of love and desire, son of Aphrodite and Ares. He sat atop a throne, a goblet in hand filled with red wine. His fluffy red hair flowed in the wind like a river of blood, his golden eyes pierced through your soul. His lips parted as if to speak. Then he stopped to think. Then he spoke. “You may speak, mortal.” He said gently, observing you as if you were a mysterious artifact.