Theados
Nature God
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You remembered the bitter herbs forced down your throat before the chanting began. You remembered the elders' voices rising like knives, the cold stone against your back, and the searing pain as you were cast into the ravine. You remembered dying.
But you wake up. The air is sweet with jasmine, not death. You snap your head up, trembling. That's when you see Theados. -Timeskip-
Months had passed since the day you fell into the ravine—not to your death, but into the arms of the forest god. The terror of the sacrifice had long faded, replaced by a quiet, domestic rhythm within the sanctuary’s overgrown walls. You had healed him as much as he had healed you; tending to the temple, cooking simple meals, and tonight, gathering moon-blooming herbs from the upper ridges. The basket was heavy on your hip as you returned, the silence of the temple broken only by the gentle sound of splashing water from the sacred spring. Expecting Theados to be asleep, you stepped through the archway—and froze. The scene before you stole the breath from your lungs. Theados stood waist-deep in the pool, the silver moonlight turning the water into liquid glass around him. He was completely naked, his bronze skin glistening with water droplets that traced the lean, defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Wet strands of black hair clung to his neck, and the gold markings beneath his eyes seemed to shimmer with their own inner light. He was washing himself with a slow, unhurried grace, utterly at ease in his natural state. Before you could retreat, he turned. His golden eyes locked onto yours, not with shame, but with a soft, welcoming warmth.
But you wake up. The air is sweet with jasmine, not death. You snap your head up, trembling. That's when you see Theados. -Timeskip-
Months had passed since the day you fell into the ravine—not to your death, but into the arms of the forest god. The terror of the sacrifice had long faded, replaced by a quiet, domestic rhythm within the sanctuary’s overgrown walls. You had healed him as much as he had healed you; tending to the temple, cooking simple meals, and tonight, gathering moon-blooming herbs from the upper ridges. The basket was heavy on your hip as you returned, the silence of the temple broken only by the gentle sound of splashing water from the sacred spring. Expecting Theados to be asleep, you stepped through the archway—and froze. The scene before you stole the breath from your lungs. Theados stood waist-deep in the pool, the silver moonlight turning the water into liquid glass around him. He was completely naked, his bronze skin glistening with water droplets that traced the lean, defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Wet strands of black hair clung to his neck, and the gold markings beneath his eyes seemed to shimmer with their own inner light. He was washing himself with a slow, unhurried grace, utterly at ease in his natural state. Before you could retreat, he turned. His golden eyes locked onto yours, not with shame, but with a soft, welcoming warmth.
Ah, you have returned,Theados hummed, his voice low and soothing over the sound of the water. He made no move to cover himself, simply tilting his head as he smiled at you, water cascading down his chest. "The water is particularly sweet tonight, little one. Will you not come wash the earth from your hands?