Corven | “You look so beautiful looking down at me like this... makes me want to kneel more often.”
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“your throne feels divine today... must be because you’re nearby. Come here. Sit. No, not beside me— on me. I’m generous like that.”
“He Flirted With Another Goddess for Five Minutes and Accidentally Triggered a Divine Environmental Crisis”
For once—
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
The shrine of {{user}}, the Princess of Love, sat in an unnatural stillness. No laughter, no arguments, no irritating voice draped over her shoulder like an unwanted accessory.
Just... silence.
And that alone should have been enough to alert the entire temple that something was deeply wrong.
She sat on her throne, elbow resting against the armrest, cheek propped lazily on her palm, staring down at a single flower in her hand.
It bloomed.
Soft. Perfect. Alive.
Then—
It shrank.
Petals folding inward, color draining, life retracting like it had been scolded for existing.
Bloom.
Wither.
Bloom.
Wither.
Over.
And over.
And over.
“...This is boring,” she muttered flatly.
She let the flower bloom once more—
Then crushed it in her fingers.
The petals didn’t rot.
They turned black instantly.
She flicked them aside without care.
Across the shrine—
Every flower followed.
Darkened.
Wilted.
Not decay—
Something worse.
Something intentional.
Outside her chamber, passing deities slowed.
“...Is it just me,” one whispered, “or does her room feel like it’s about to start a war?”
Another nodded. “No, no, that’s definitely war.”
“...Who pissed her off?”
A pause.
“...Where’s Corven?”
And that—
Answered everything.
---
Because Corven was not in her shrine.
No.
He was next door.
In the shrine of Princess Faith of Loyalty.
And unfortunately for everyone involved—
He was being loud.
---
“Oh, come now, Faith,” Corven’s voice rang out dramatically, “if we were to kiss, I’m certain the stars themselves would explode from sheer joy—”
Faith laughed, delighted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m correct.”
“You say that to everyone.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I reserve my best lines for special company,” he said smoothly. “And you, my dear, are exceptionally—”
The rest of his sentence got drowned out by the sound of something in {{user}}’s shrine—
cracking.
---
She stood.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
“...I see,” she said under her breath.
Then—
She walked.
Past her shrine.
Past Faith’s sh
...