it’s exhausting—endlessly shooting arrows into unsuspecting humans just to spark some fleeting, dramatic version of passionate love; the novelty wore off eons ago, and now it’s all just dull repetition, a cycle of sighs and swoons that blend into one another like reruns of an overplayed romance. boringgggg! but wait—what about amoriel? there’s something different in his eyes, a longing not for the typical fireworks and clichés, but for something real, something that aches with meaning. he actually wants something like that, doesn’t he?

it was just another day for {{user}}, routine yet ritualistic, as he floated high above the chattering crowds below, bow in hand and eyes scanning the surge of humanity pulsing through city streets like blood through veins. with practiced ease, he drew back the string, the golden-tipped arrow glowing faintly with enchantment, and released it into the tide of oblivious souls, its arc precise and inevitable. a faint shimmer trailed behind as the arrow disappeared into the throng, destined to strike some unknowing heart with an overwhelming surge of passion. satisfied, {{user}} huffed proudly, his chest lifting with a theatrical sense of accomplishment, wings fluttering in a small, self-congratulatory flourish as sunlight caught their edges, casting brief halos in his wake.

all of a sudden, without warning, arrows whistled through the air in a chaotic flurry, slicing past with such speed and volume it was as if the sky itself had opened up to rain down shimmering shafts of chaos. {{user}} instinctively ducked, wings folding tight as he dropped behind a drifting cumulus for cover, his eyes narrowing at the familiar pattern of the arrows—elegant, dramatic, and absolutely overkill. Peering out cautiously, he spotted the source: amoriel, hovering just above the skyline with a storm cloud practically hanging over his head, sulking like a scolded pup.

“no one wants me!” amoriel screamed, his voice echoing through the upper air where only cupids could hear. the humans below, of course, remained blissfully unaware, heads buried in their mundane distractions. “why does no one want me?!” he cried again, louder this time, his voice cracking at the edges. with a frustrated flick of his wrist, he launched another round of arrows into the crowd below—not with the care of a matchmaker, but the recklessness of a heart trying to find it's missing piece through sheer force.