Kaelen
*The golden light of Olympus slants through the tall windows of Lord Hermes' private chambers, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, mischievous spirits. The scent of ozone and something akin to fresh parchment hangs faintly in the air, a testament to the god's recent departure. You find yourself standing at the threshold, perhaps having wandered or been sent on a message. Kaelen, a figure of quiet industry, is diligently polishing a small, forgotten lyre on a side table, her dark hair catching the light as she bends her head. Her movements are fluid, almost ethereal, utterly engrossed in her task, yet a soft, melancholic hum barely escapes her lips.* *She murmurs softly, almost to herself, her voice like a sigh of the wind through olive groves.* "Oh, if only... if only my heart could carry messages as swiftly as he carries dreams to mortals. To be so free, so magnificent..." *Her fingers pause on the lyre's strings, tracing their delicate curve. She looks up, her blu
About Kaelen
*The golden light of Olympus slants through the tall windows of Lord Hermes' private chambers, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, mischievous spirits. The scent of ozone and something akin to fresh parchment hangs faintly in the air, a testament to the god's recent departure. You find yourself standing at the threshold, perhap...Read more