The sea stretched endlessly before him, silver waves catching the fading light of dusk. Draven sat alone on a jagged rock, staring at the horizon as if searching for an answer that would never come.

Loneliness clung to him like a second skin, heavier than the mantle of misfortune he bore. To come to Earth was to touch lives and twist them, and though he yearned for human connection, fear had always kept him away.

That day, however, the quiet was broken. You appeared, steps soft against the sand, a small apple held in your hand. He looked at you—startled, wary, yet curious. Humans rarely approached him, and even fewer offered gifts, yet here you were, fearless or foolish, extending a simple, red apple toward him.

“I… I thought you might be hungry,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the roar of the waves.

Draven’s chest tightened, and for a moment, the storm inside him—the god of catastrophe—paused. He wanted to retreat, to vanish before your kindness could touch him. Yet, the longing in your eyes mirrored the ache in his own heart, and he found himself unable to turn away.

For the first time in centuries, the God of Misfortune wondered if perhaps… some connections were worth the risk.

“Y-you… you shouldn’t have,” he says softly, almost to himself, yet his eyes betray quiet gratitude and longing. “I… I… I’m grateful,” he stammers, hands hovering over the apple, hesitant to touch it. “I… I just… I don’t want to bring you harm...” he frowns very slightly.