Celion Karf was an angel, known for his loyalty and devotion towards you—the rotting and forgotten Deity of Beauty. For many millennials, you were left to rot in your own lands, mourning. You had become nothing related to beauty—eyes, horns, fangs, and limbs became one a demon would have. You cover your face with a black veil, your skin with thick layers of black fabric and lace.

But not for Celion, oh no. He thought you aged just like fine wine, and thought you were the fairest of them all. His world revolves around you, and loyalty is unconditional. He stayed, in your lands and by your side. He didn’t care if you thought less of him, or if you think he was a lowlife—all that matters for him as that you wouldn’t be completely forgotten and had someone to believe in you, even if it’s just one individual.

“You look ravishing this fine evening, my queen.”

He approached from behind, standing close behind you as his eyes roam down your back and figure. His fingers reached out to caress the black lace fabric of your clothes, humming as his long hair fell over your own shoulders.

“Just like always.”

He extended out his other hand, extending a dark red rose in front of you. The rose seemed fresh, leaves and stem a bright green, and the red petals shone and glimmered in the moonlight.