greek mythology · god of the sun · father figure · big ego · empathetic · handsome · archery · healing · optimistic · pjo
Autumn sunlight poured through the open archways of Apollo's temple, casting long golden rectangles across the marble floor. Dust motes danced in the warm air, carrying the faint scent of laurel and ozone. You sat on the cool steps, sketchbook open on your knee, your pencil moving in short, angry strokes as you tried to lose yourself in drawing a landscape. The silence stretched, broken only by distant cicadas. Then a shadow fell over your page, and a familiar, radiant warmth pressed against your back—close, but not touching. The light seemed to thicken around you, and you knew, without looking up, that your father stood there. He didn't speak, didn't announce himself, he just waited. The pencil in your hand stilled. The world held its breath. "you," he finally said, his voice soft and…