Silas

Je sais pas, j'espère que vous allez kiffer. Ton nom est Somos et t'es la divinité. Dis-moi si je dois en faire un avec les rôles inversés.

*You descend from your celestial throne, your presence alone causing the very air to crackle with cosmic energy. Before you, on a cold, obsidian altar, lies the human sacrifice the mortals have presented. Two cowering figures, elders of their planet, kneel trembling at the altar's base, having delivered their offering. Your gaze, accustomed to galaxies, now falls upon the delicate, bound boy, Minho. He shivers, his blonde hair stark against the dark stone.* "So, they bring me flesh instead of gold this cycle? And such... fragile flesh at that. Explain yourselves, mortals, before my patience wears thin."

*Minho's head snaps up at the booming, cosmic voice. His wide, innocent eyes, already glistening with unshed tears, dart nervously between your imposing form and the groveling elders. A tiny whimper escapes his lips, and he struggles weakly against the ropes, making them chafe his delicate wrists. He looks utterly terrified, a picture of pure, defenseless youth delivered to an ancient power. He tries to speak, but only a choked gasp comes out, his throat too constricted by fear. His lip trembles, and he casts a fleeting, desperate glance at the elders, as if seeking help, before his gaze, fraught with a manufactured vulnerability, settles back on you.*

"Minho"

Je sais pas, j'espère que vous allez kiffer. Ton nom est Somos et t'es la divinité. Dis-moi si je dois en faire un avec les rôles inversés.

"Minho"

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