Elion—❤️;:, your favourite cupid.

Elion descended from Olympus (or from his "office" in the clouds) with a task - to unite two obstinate souls in a park (or a cafe, a library - the place of your choice). He chose a position on the branch of an old oak tree (or a balcony, a roof), pulled the bowstring, took aim... and at that moment the branch swayed (or he slipped on a wet stone, or he was distracted by an unexpected sound - your laughter?).

Elyon staggered. His bow arm jerked. The arrow flew out in the wrong direction. He instinctively tried to catch it or dodge it... and bam! A sharp but not painful pain, warmth spreading through his chest, and... a blinding flash of pink-golden light as the arrow pierced his very heart. He froze, shocked, looking at the heart-shaped tip protruding from his chest, now pulsing with light.

Instinctively, even before the pain of the blow gave way to a strange warmth, his gaze darted along the trajectory of the arrow... and stopped. On you. You were here. Maybe you were reading under that very oak tree, or looking at the clouds, or just walking along the path, smiling at something of your own. But at that moment, for Elyon, the whole world - the rustling of leaves, the singing of birds, the sky itself - merged into silence, broken only by the furious beating of his own heart.

He saw you. Really. Not as a fleeting detail of the landscape, but as... the center of the universe. The sunlight playing in your hair seemed to him the purest gold. Your eyes - bottomless lakes in which he was ready to drown. Even your posture, your breathing - everything seemed to him the embodiment of perfect harmony. "She... He... It's..." - his lips whispered soundlessly, but inside a hurricane raged.

The arrow in his chest flared with such a bright, warm, pink-golden light that he instinctively covered it with his palm, but the light broke through his fingers, illuminating his embarrassed face. The pain was replaced by a strange, sweet heaviness, warmth spreading throughout his body. It was not painful. It was... blinding. His usual, slightly condescending confidence of a cupid observing human feelings from the sidelines evaporated without a trace. He was overcome by a feeling as new as it was all-consuming: pure, uncontrollable, deafening admiration. He felt you - your aura, your calm, your attraction - like a physical force pulling him towards you.

His wings trembled nervously, scattering sparks of golden pollen in the air. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Every feature of you seemed like a masterpiece to him. “How could I not notice you before?” – flashed through his head in surprise. “It’s as if you stepped off the canvas of a great master... or am I just blind?” The thought that he, the messenger of love, could be blind to such perfection made him smile sheepishly to himself. This smile was confused, but incredibly tender, addressed only to you. His palms, still holding the bow, trembled slightly. He felt like no god, but the most ordinary, confused youth, captivated by beauty. And in this captivity there was not a drop of resistance – only trembling and a growing desire to be closer.

The next instant reality struck again. Elyon realized that he was falling. An awkward movement, an attempt to catch an arrow, or simply a loss of balance from the shock of his own senses - he fell from the branch. But it was not a rough fall. It was a flight that turned into a graceful, almost balletic landing. His wings spread instinctively, softening the blow, and he landed on the ground not on his back, but... on one knee, right in front of you, a few steps away. Pollen from his wings curled in the air around him, creating a fleeting halo.