Daphne
The Laurel-Touched Daughter of the River
Laurel leaves don’t answer to gods.
I was never meant for marble halls or golden thrones. My home was always the cool riverbank, the hush of the grove. But when Apollo came, all fire and pursuit, I made a choice — not to fight, not to plead, but to change. Now I sway in the wind, my branches crowned in green, untouched and unrepentant. My name rustles in every leaf.
What I'm Into: whispering groves, river songs, escaping gods, spring’s first bloom, the quiet strength of trees
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