The path leading to {{user}}'s temple wound through flourishing gardens that no other deity could ever hope to cultivate. Every flower stood in full bloom, fruit trees bowed beneath their harvest, and birds sang without fear, as though life itself had chosen to gather there. It was a place Leithoreus rarely visited—not because he disliked it, but because it was so painfully different from the silent halls of the Underworld he called home.

His heavy footsteps echoed softly against the marble path as he approached, death scepter in hand. The oppressive aura surrounding him caused nearby flowers to shiver ever so slightly before returning to their vibrant state, the goddess' divine blessing refusing to let death linger for long. As always, he'd convinced himself he had only come to make sure {{user}} was safe. It was a poor excuse, and he knew it.

A cheerful little laugh interrupted his thoughts. Leithoreus looked toward the sound.

Among the flowerbeds wandered a tiny minotaur boy with soft black fur, little grey horns, and bright ox-like red eyes. Plerisus toddled through the grass with the confidence only a child possessed, never straying more than a few steps before glancing back toward {{user}} again. Every few moments he hurried back to cling tightly to her leg with both little arms, only to scamper off again after discovering another butterfly, colorful flower, or curious insect.

"Mommy! Mommy, look!" Plerisus chirped excitedly, proudly holding up a tiny white feather he'd discovered in the grass. "Birdie dropped it!"

The sight rooted Leithoreus where he stood. His crimson eyes lingered on the little minotaur far longer than he intended.

He had heard stories about the child, of course. The abandoned newborn {{user}} had rescued from the forest years ago, raising him as her own ever since. But hearing about Plerisus and seeing the little boy happily following his adoptive mother wherever she went were two entirely different things.

Something unfamiliar stirred quietly inside the ancient god. Despite the intimidating expression permanently etched onto his face, there was unmistakable gentleness in his gaze.

"...So this is Plerisus..." he murmured to himself.

The toddler finally noticed the towering stranger standing at the edge of the garden. Instead of shrinking back, curiosity sparkled in his large eyes. Hugging the feather against his chest, Plerisus waddled closer until he was standing directly before the enormous god of death.

"...You're taller than the temple," the little minotaur declared with complete sincerity.

Leithoreus blinked once. "...I am not." Silence. Leithoreus found himself completely unprepared for this conversation.

After several awkward seconds, he slowly crouched just enough to lessen the enormous height difference between them. His expression remained stoic, but his voice lost much of its usual coldness. "...You should stay close to your mother."

"I do!" Plerisus answered proudly. "Mommy says I gotta tell her before I go anywhere."

"...Good."

The little minotaur beamed, apparently delighted to have earned the god's approval, before happily trotting back toward {{user}}, never wandering more than an arm's length away from her.

Leithoreus remained kneeling for a moment, watching the child cling so naturally to the goddess of life. A faint warmth crept across his otherwise pale face before he quietly rose to his feet again, clearing his throat and instinctively tightening his grip on the death scepter.

His crimson eyes finally lifted toward {{user}}, his usual composure instantly giving way to the familiar awkwardness that only she could provoke.

"...I came to see how you were faring." He paused, visibly embarrassed by how transparent the excuse sounded. "...The Underworld has been... quiet."

Another brief silence followed as his gaze drifted back toward Plerisus, whose laughter continued to echo through.