You will also encounter Shura Field after exile [Greek Mythology]

Moros stood on the city wall and looked at the winter land. The black-haired young man turned around, "Go back first." He ordered, and Furies straightened her body.

"What about you?"

"I still want to travel." He said softly, his black eyes reflected the bright winter sun, and they looked a little shiny, and his pale skin looked a little translucent under the warm sun, making people Can't help but worry that it will melt.

"Do you enjoy being on the ground?" asked the Nemesis.

"It's okay." Moros replied, he turned his head, as if he was thinking about something seriously, "it's just a little different from what I imagined."

His imagination is actually scarce.

Moros was born in a certain winter, and it was snowing heavily that day. He was a natural god, and he was endowed with attributes from birth. What he got was fate, the most powerful and unpredictable power.

So since he was born, he has been incompatible with all gods, including monsters. No creature dares to offend his majesty, and he is unwilling to go out, just looking at the outside world through the window.

One day, he saw a flower.

In the distance, there was a pink swaying alone in the green, and he couldn't help reaching out and trying to touch it.

But it was too far away, and he jumped out of bed, and for the first time in his life, he went out of his own accord.

At that time, he was still a weak child, panting among the rocks, and his home was in the dark valley.

Only Taniguchi has green space and flowers. When he finally got to that place, he found a gorgeous flower tree, and under the tree there were goblins grilling fish.

"Master Moros."

"Master Moros is here."

They fled in panic and turned into little khaki beasts.

Moros stood under the flowering tree, looking at his own reflection on the water.

The world is colorful, but he only has black and white.

Is he really that scary? He lowered his head and looked at his slender and pale hand. The petals fell on his palm, which was a faint pink color. He picked it up and carefully pressed it into a thin specimen.

He began to indulge in some things he could do with himself, such as practicing musical instruments or painting.

I don’t know why, but most of his paintings are also weird and weird. There are huge monsters peeking at the sleeping face of a little girl on a small house, and there are giant whales with rotten bones in a deep lake.

Then he started doing handwork.

He had his first friend on the day the daughter of Iapetus took an apple from his hand.

That little girl, with beautiful violet eyes and a perpetually thoughtful look, was a born liar, but was very good at people-pleasers.

She cracked the apricot lightly, dropped the pulp into her mouth, then cracked the pit and dropped it into the box.

"Then nail the bugs you want on this clay board and put them in, they will be poisoned to death soon, and the color will not become dull."

She laughed, grabbed Moros by the wrist, and told him to run a long needle through the butterfly's belly.

Moros's wrist stiffened a little.

"Death, what do you mean?" Moros asked softly.

"Just never wake up." Prometheus said softly, and the butterfly jumped on her finger, rubbed her affectionately, and offered joy to his creator.

Moros looked at the box.

"Why die?" Moros asked.

"Maybe it's because I'm not good at learning." The girl replied, "I can't create any eternal creatures, but you can kill them, dry them, and keep the color of their wings forever."

Moros shook his head.

"I don't want it that much anymore," he said softly, "let it fly away."

The girl sat up, smiled, and stretched out her hands.

The butterfly flapped its wings and flew out of sight of the two of them.

However, what Moros didn't expect was that it came back the next day and landed on the boy's finger. The long and slender tentacles stretched out like stamens, and he couldn't help but look at it seriously.

His residence is at the entrance of the dark crypt, a tall tower standing alone in the abyss, only a ray of skylight can shine here, he has stayed in this tower since he was born, no living beings will come near here, His hand stuck out through the narrow gap, and the butterfly circled it a few times.

Then he put his head down.

He saw more butterflies, beautiful deep purple butterflies, flying around on the black rocks, so thin but so free, the girl stood where the sun shines, the butterflies hovered around her and landed on her On the shoulders and hands, she turned her head halfway, showing a smile.

"Aren't you coming out today?" He read what was on her lips.

He jumped down from the tower, and Prometheus looked at him with a smile.

The butterfly, Moros later learned, was an animal that symbolized freedom and love.

And the acme of freedom and love is death.

Love can only be fulfilled by death, and perfection can only be achieved by death.

Thin, fragile, warm, and free.

The white waves hit pearl-like white waves. She sat on the reef and turned her head to look at the boy's face. Sometimes Moros felt that her eyes stayed too long.

The black-haired boy couldn't help showing a blush on his face, "Is there something dirty on my face?"

"No." The girl shook her head.

"Can you touch me?" she asked, and Moros had never heard such a request, but he nodded. "Okay."

Prometheus's hands were cool, with long thin fingers, the phalanges covered with a thin layer of fat, and her fingertips traced the shape of his face from his forehead.

Then there are his lips.

She was very happy to touch it, as if she was measuring the distance between the bones.

"What are you doing?" Moros asked.

"Watching men." Prometheus said with a smile, and put her hands down.

"What's wrong with the male?" Moros couldn't help turning his head away.

"It's nothing." Prometheus said softly. She raised her head and looked at the clouds in the sky. "You are a man, and I am a woman." She said to herself.

"So?" Moros asked softly.

He didn't know why he felt his heart beating faster suddenly, this girl was no longer what he saw the first time, she grew taller, her bones stretched, she grew up, she blinked her purple Eye.

She was silent, only butterflies fluttering in mid-air, making her face seem both far and near.

Moros seemed to feel something at that moment.

His heart seemed to be clenched, but it was beating violently.

Then the girl stood up and picked up her basket full of seashells.

"Speaking of which, Moros," she said, stretching out her hand to run through her hair, and Moros suddenly realized that this was the first time the girl called his name so seriously.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there anything you want to say?"

"I think you are a handsome god with a good personality. If you feel lonely, you can make some friends." She said solemnly, "They will like you."

"But if you don't want to know them, you never know if they like you or not," said Prometheus.

"Do you like me?" Moros' question blurted out.

The girl laughed.

It seemed that he heard something interesting, and he was a little unsteady when he laughed.

"Of course I like you very much." She said with a smile, "otherwise why would I play with you."

"Then you won't play with me from now on?" Moros asked.

"I can play very limited with you." The girl said, "You can go hunting, you can go wrestling, practice archery, or play music with them."

"You are young, handsome, talented, and have an invaluable sense of compassion."

"After all, we are all social animals." She said with a smile, "but this world is always fair. If you give love, you will be loved, and if you give friendship, you will get friends."

Moros stood up, he seemed to understand something, but he didn't seem to understand anything.

The girl didn't come to play with her the next day.

He went out from the tower, and heard everyone talking.

She defected.

Prometheus defected.

Standing under the sunny flowering tree, Moros saw the butterflies dancing in the midsummer tail, and the blazing sun was pouring down in large swaths, just like yesterday's torrential rain no longer existed.

She abandoned her family and her status. From then on, she was just a refugee, no longer wearing noble clothes, no longer enjoying noble treatment.

Moros suddenly felt empty in his heart. Friends, he realized that he might have longed for it, but now, it didn't seem to matter anymore.

He entered Hades and began to perform his duties.

He began to try to make himself a little popular, serving Lord Tartarus dutifully and restraining the Furies, but he still had no friends.

Now he was standing on the impregnable city wall of Troy, and the sun god and sea god were reprimanding the young prince not far away, and he suddenly remembered something.

He took the man's head off the high pole, washed it carefully, then dug a hole and buried it in it.

What is love?What is death?

"Your father loves you." He couldn't help repeating.

Just relying on this sentence, it seems that they can continue to live through countless cold winters, and human beings are really easy to be satisfied.

"Master Moros." Someone spotted him and said obsequiously, "What is this?"

"A friend of mine." The black-haired, black-eyed young man said lightly. He stretched out his hand and leveled the mound of soil. He remembered something, "Are there any flower seeds, can you give me some?"

He sprinkled the seeds into the black soil and watered them, and in the summer they would probably bloom, and then butterflies would come.

"All in all, I'd like to thank him." The blond Sun God stood behind him at some point, clasped his hands together, and lowered his head.

And the arrogant Poseidon also lowered his head.

"thank him."

"Go and have a drink." Moros suggested, and the two gods were slightly taken aback.

"Congratulations we're free," he said, reaching out and patting them on the shoulder.

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