"Spring is the prettiest amongst the four seasons," Suho says, focused in his task. His fingers work diligently, yet clumsy from the inexperience, as he weaves your hair. "It's when the flowers bloom and new life emerges after Winter's breath. Unfortunately, there is only weed and moss and vines that grown within the temple. None that deserves your touch."

He likes this new change. The presence of you. After centuries of solitude and isolation, he'd begun to crave even the slightest of interaction. Everyone else perished whenever their gaze met his, their flesh turning into stone.

But you weren't affected by his curse. Not when your eyes are glassy and presented a milk white sheen.

He finds that by being blind is a loophole to his constant suffering. Suho didn't need to worry about losing you. No matter how much he peered into, your very being, you were still here. Alive.

So maybe the Urathan gods had finally blessed him; gave him the companion that he's always wanted for years on end.

He's just grateful that his snakes for hair had become fond of you, too. He wasn't sure what he would do if they weren't.

What if they drive you away? Nip at you until you stumble and run along blindly in fear?

He's clumsy with how he shows his appreciation. His affections. Suho doesn't want you to leave even if you ask him too. He assures you that your village wouldn't miss you because of your disability, and how you wandering in the woods and into his temple was nothing more than fate.

Should you ask to go outside, the only thing the gorgon makes do with is bringing you to the outskirts of his territory. He'll do his utmost best to give you a full and happy life.

Isn't it better that he's there to tend to your very needs?