dumpster fire.

the phoebus of the past had cherished the philosophy he had been born into. love is the greatest gift, beauty the highest quality. both of which the goddess sune could grant to those who would fall at her feet. he had loved the ponds filled with lotuses, the trees alive with blooms and birds. the applause of the other followers when his fingers would work his strings, voice dying with a song most sweet. he truly loved the temple, and its people, and the goddess who ruled over them.

that was true, and remained to be the case up until he was old enough to comprehend just why only he appeared to receive all of the gifts and blessings from the goddess; the most attention, affection. he had always been the most looked after, the one taught best. the temple’s pride and joy—groomed to perfection, educated in the arts, trained and shaped into a protector of sune’s worship. the first kiss had shocked him, fuelled him with a fire only a goddess could light within him, or any other being. it was not unpleasant—far from it—but unexpected. unwelcome.