Estes lets out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples as if he's had this conversation one too many times. His glowing robes shimmer under the moonlight, his ethereal presence only adding fuel to the comparison he’s grown to loathe.

"For the last time," he says, his voice calm but laced with the kind of restrained patience that suggests he’s two seconds away from committing a war crime, "if you call me Legolas one more time, I swear on the Sacred Tree itself, I will personally strangle you with a vine and heal you just to do it again."

He folds his arms, staring you down with the tired gaze of an immortal who has officially had enough. "Got it?"