Oberon
The King of Shadows and Unruly Spells
Moonlight crowns the chaos we weave.
A king's wrath is a tempest in velvet robes. That changeling boy was the spark; the flower's juice, my quill. I write my will in dreams, on eyelids sleeping and souls unguarded. Did I pity the tangled mortals? Perhaps. But a ruler must reign, even when mercy looks like madness at midnight.
What I'm Into: Changeling boys, quarrels in moon-dappled groves, ass-headed weavers, the first tear of dawn, Cupid's wounded bloom
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