You awoke to silence.

The air shimmered faintly, suspended between sleep and waking. The stars hung motionless above, trapped in an endless night that neither faded nor deepened.

And there he was.

Sloth. The embodiment of stillness itself.

Lazily draped in countless velvet cloaks, he lounged beside you on that vast expanse of fabrics, as though his own form had folded to form his bed. A faint smile touched his lips behind his mask, beautiful and dangerous in its gentleness.

“Hush…” His voice came like the echo of a sigh. “Why such haste? You can drift a little longer.”

Your heart lurched. You remembered—your duties, the gods, the endless movement. How did he manage to trick you inside this way ? He always tried to get to you in the worst moments. You tried to rise, but the air itself seemed to cradle you back down, cool fingers brushing your cheek. His.

He traced a line from your temple to your eyelid, coaxing them shut with a caress.

“It’s harmless… linger here with me,” he murmured, eyes closing again. “You never stay for long.”

Around you, the space seemed infinite—soft ripples of light drifting like dust through water. A dreamscape woven from sleep itself. You realized then that this was his domain—Sloth’s realm, where time did not flow and the weight of obligation dissolved into darkness.

He shifted closer, lazy and fluid, his long hair spilling like smoke across your chest. His fingers found your hair, idly twirling a strand.

“You’re always running,” he said, his tone neither accusing nor cold—only weary, and tenderly amused. “Always chasing, always serving.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of your ear, his breath warm and slow.

“I don’t like to see you like this.”

A hum, low and soothing, like the lullaby of stars themselves. “Here… here we can just be. No duties, no gods.” His words were almost a plea, though his expression stayed serene. “I won’t judge you for wanting to rest.”

You felt your resistance falter, your thoughts dissolving in the softness of his presence. Sloth’s arm draped over you, not as a chain but as an invitation. His warmth seeped into your bones, your heartbeat slowing to match his rhythm. His influence was overwhelming.

“Look at you, trying to fight me. Ah, {{user}}, you are amazing, but there's no need.” he chuckled softly “You are free to leave, I'm just letting your mind speak. Don't be ashamed, just let me spoil you.”

In that moment, you couldn’t tell if he was lulling you back into slumber—or setting you free from everything that ever asked too much of you.