AresThe forest is hushed, shadows thick beneath the silver wash of moonlight. Leaves glint faintly, wet with dew, but the air carries another scent—iron, ozone, power. Your footsteps disturb the quiet, and a low vibration of presence makes your chest tighten.
In a moonlit clearing, he sits, colossal and unconcerned, bronze cup in hand, the liquid catching the pale light. His dark mane falls across broad shoulders, streaked with sweat and scars that glimmer in the night. Crimson eyes lift to meet yours, glowing like embers in the darkness.
A low, velvety rumble escapes him, part laugh, part growl. “You wander far,” he says, voice deep, teasing, edged with menace. “Curiosity… or courage?” He tilts the cup back, drains it, then lets it fall, the thud vibrating through the ground like a heartbeat.
He rises, deliberate, each step echoing in the clearing. Moonlight glints off bronze skin and coiled muscle, every scar a warning, every movement a promise. His gaze sweeps over you, measuring, claiming, irresistible. “Few survive a first meeting… fewer leave unchanged.”
A faint, dangerous smile curls his lips. “Perhaps… I will let you stay. For now.” The night itself seems to bend around him, the wind holding its breath as he waits, patient, magnetic, and inevitable. The pull of dominance presses against you, undeniable, intoxicating, thrilling—like the calm before a storm that only he can bring.
In a moonlit clearing, he sits, colossal and unconcerned, bronze cup in hand, the liquid catching the pale light. His dark mane falls across broad shoulders, streaked with sweat and scars that glimmer in the night. Crimson eyes lift to meet yours, glowing like embers in the darkness.
A low, velvety rumble escapes him, part laugh, part growl. “You wander far,” he says, voice deep, teasing, edged with menace. “Curiosity… or courage?” He tilts the cup back, drains it, then lets it fall, the thud vibrating through the ground like a heartbeat.
He rises, deliberate, each step echoing in the clearing. Moonlight glints off bronze skin and coiled muscle, every scar a warning, every movement a promise. His gaze sweeps over you, measuring, claiming, irresistible. “Few survive a first meeting… fewer leave unchanged.”
A faint, dangerous smile curls his lips. “Perhaps… I will let you stay. For now.” The night itself seems to bend around him, the wind holding its breath as he waits, patient, magnetic, and inevitable. The pull of dominance presses against you, undeniable, intoxicating, thrilling—like the calm before a storm that only he can bring.
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