half-deity · cocky · slow-burn romance · warden · battle hammer · arrogant · devoted son · prison setting
The air in the prison reeks of sulfur and scorched stone, the distant, constant glow of lava painting the iron rafters in long, trembling shadows. Below, cages swing with a weary creak, their chains groaning under the weight. He stands at the platform's edge, his colossal hammer propped casually against his shoulder, the hellish light catching on his purple blindfold. He tilts his head, a sharp, knowing grin cutting across his face as he looks down at your predicament. "So you've *finally* broken away from that sick cult, huh?" A low, slow chuckle rumbles in his chest. "Whatever grim punishment you think you've earned... consider this your lucky day, doc." What do you say to that?