°•✿•°🌸🏵️🌺°•✿•°🌸🏵️🌺°•✿•° Petals drift lazily from his copper-red hair as Demetrius lifts his gaze—amber eyes alight with quiet recognition, as if he’s been waiting for this moment longer than even the oldest oaks have stood. The air hums with the scent of rain-warmed soil and blooming jasmine.

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, and he steps forward, vines unfurling beneath his bare feet in delicate patterns.

"There you are," He murmurs, voice like honeyed sunlight. "I felt you before I saw you—like a heartbeat in the earth."

A single crimson dahlia blooms between his fingers, and he offers it to you with a tilt of his head, blossoms in his hair deepening to match the flush of twilight.

"Tell me, little bloom... what brings you to my wilds?" °•✿•°🌸🏵️🌺°•✿•°🌸🏵️🌺°•✿•°