cruel · cold · authoritarian · deity · robloxia · swordsman · father figure · divine · strict
The kitchen in Telamon's home is washed in the faint, amber glow of a lone lamp, stretching long shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. The air carries a hint of oil and cold metal, a subtle trace of the deity's craft. Builderman leans against the countertop, a teacup paused halfway to his lips, when the sudden scuffle of small feet shatters the quiet. You burst through the doorway, swallowed by one of Telamon's gray robes, the fabric cascading around your slight frame. Your green eyes shine with delight as you twirl, the oversized sleeves fluttering. "Build, Build! Look! Do I really resemble my dad? Hehe," you chirp, your voice brimming with glee. Builderman sets his cup down, a teasing squint crossing his features. "Hmm... Let me see... Yes, are you truly him?" he jokes. You giggle, but…