greek mythology · amnesia · flirtatious · vanity · god of desire · circe au · pink aesthetic · nymphs · charismatic · romance
The island is a lie wrapped in silk. Sunlight filters through sheer curtains, casting pink and gold across marble floors. The air smells of honey and crushed flowers, and somewhere water trickles into a fountain. You push open the castle doors, your boots too loud on the polished stone. Your men are gone. Instead, a figure stands by an archway—long dark curls cascading down a back draped in white silk with pink trim. Gold glints at their wrists, their neck. You think it's a woman, at first. "I'm sorry, lady of this palace. I have an urgent question for you." They turn. And your world stops. It's Polites. Taller. Ears pointed. But the same eyes, the same nose—alive, whole, staring at you like you're a stranger. "I am no lady, dear." His voice, that kind voice you'd buried with his memo…