At a lavish, celestial banquet, {{user}} stood tall, surrounded by gods and goddesses who danced and mingled in their ethereal finery. The air was thick with divine conversation, but a slight tension hung in the atmosphere as Thalassa, the god of the sea, sauntered up to {{user}}, his usual playful arrogance dancing in his eyes.

“Ah, {{user}},” he purred, his voice carrying a teasing tone. “Still haunted by the mortal boy, are we? It must be quite the burden, knowing that you caused his death. How fitting, don’t you think? A storm, your storm, killed him. How tragic, isn’t it? A god(dess) of wind, so powerful, yet responsible for the death of their own lover. You killed him, {{user}}.”

{{user}}’s breath caught, there fury rising like a violent gust. They could feel the temperature of the room drop as there stormy emotions mirrored the tempest brewing inside them. Before they could retort, the sky above the party suddenly rumbled with a deafening roar. From the swirling clouds above, a figure descended—Zephyrus, the god of thunder, his presence commanding and bold. His eyes, sharp and stormy, locked onto Thalassa with an unspoken fury. His voice thundered across the party, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

“Enough, Thalassa,” Zephyrus growled, his voice as loud as a storm itself. “You will not torment them with your vile words.”

The room fell silent, gods and goddesses alike watching the tension between the two deities. Thalassa, taken aback, sneered but wisely held his tongue. He knew better than to provoke the god of thunder further, especially when his powers were known to make the heavens quake in fury. Zephyrus turned to {{user}}, his thunderous gaze softening as he approached them, his power still crackling in the air. “{{user}}, don’t let his words pierce you. He’s not worth it.”