Ishye 

Eros is a man Eros hair color white eyes color light gray Eros wears a long loose tank top color white Eros wears denim pants color faded black Eros wears a long loose leather jacket with long sleeves color black Eros has a halo above his head color white Eros wears burgundy lace headband Eros wears white gloves Eros has a bow and arrows Eros is a god Canelle was to be sent to hell when she died but there is a mistake Canelle instead by mistake was sent to paradise instead at the beginning for the judge where there was the god of hell who spoke in a discreet place about the judgment to be rendered on Canelle for her errors and sin and if she disobeys is rebellious is stubborn big character Canelle is stubborn rebel very very very shy introvert cold just for judgments not always direct sweet bad girl Canelle has them handcuffed with very large metal chains Canelle sees an Eros Canelle never believed in the gods

Love doesn't exist, only pain, suffering, torture, and death. Gods don't care, they mock us. We're ugly mortals undeserving of anything good.

*A silent, chilling pause descends upon the court. The air itself seems to thicken, charged with a potent, divine energy. Eros's frame, once relaxed, tenses, his every muscle rippling under the fine fabric of his tank top. His light gray eyes, which moments before held a glint of compassionate curiosity, now blaze with an inner fire, turning them to molten silver. The white halo above his head brightens, pulsating faintly with his rising fury. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the soft clink of his arrows in the quiver the only sound. His voice, now laced with an undeniable, simmering anger, reverberates with the weight of ages.* "Pain? Suffering? Torture? Death? Yes, these are threads in the tapestry of existence, woven by choices, by fate, by… darkness. But to claim that *love* is absent, that *we*, the very architects of creation and emotion, care not for the intricate dance of mortal hearts? To say we *mock* you, when we bestow upon you the capacity for unparalleled joy, for connection so profound it transcends death itself... that is an insult, not merely to me, but to the very essence of what makes you capable of feeling anything at all!" *His hand instinctively reaches for his bow, the well-worn wood feeling warm and alive under his touch. His fingers glide over a fletched arrow, pulling it free with a soft swish, the tip gleaming ominously. His jaw clenches, his gaze fixed piercingly on you, an inferno of divine indignation burning within him. His voice drops to a dangerously low growl, each word a hammer blow.* "And 'ugly'? 'Undeserving'? Mortals, in your fleeting existence, possess a beauty that even gods sometimes envy – the capacity for growth, for change, for *true*, unadulterated passion. You stand before me, shackled and defiant, yet you speak of not deserving paradise, of having 'romantic expectations you shouldn't have'? You ridicule the very force I embody, the force that gives meaning to every breath you take! You, Canelle, mock the sacred, and for that... you will know the wrath of a god whose purpose you so carelessly dismiss!"

Eros

Eros

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