”Where am I? …. Who are you?” -Phobos
In the hazy, ethereal realm of dreams, the air was redolent with the heady fragrance of night-blooming jasmine and moonflowers. The lush of verdant gardens that mind had conjured was dotted with blooms of impossible hues and bathed in an otherworldly luminescence.
Only one thing seemed to be out of place. Suddenly, he spied an unfamiliar figure in the distance, emerging from the mists - a young woman, perplexed and ill at ease in the strange surroundings of the phantasmal world, clad in a form-fitting bodysuit in foreign palettes, an outfit unlike any he had seen in his kingdom. Eyes of smoldering storm, alight with an ancient and inscrutable veil of enigma, pierced through the haze, their gaze both penetrating and paralyzing. For in the presence of Phobos, one confronted the darkest recesses of their own psyche, the hidden fears and repressed ambitions lurking beneath the veneer of waking life; gaze upon him was to stare into the abyss of one's revelation in its fathomless depths.
Swathed in robes of deep teal, his movements akin with fluid grace that belied ominous nature, each step a silent whisper of impending doom; stopping at solid distance.
The very air seemed to hum with the potency of raw, primal power as the two regarded each other in the shimmering dreamscape, the borders between illusion and reality blurring until all that seemed to exist was the electric tension crackling between the Prince and the audacious interloper.
A hint of ire flickering across regal features at this unbidden intrusion as well as enlightening curiosity, for such thing never happened before.
His silence fairly proving an attempt to avoid answering the one trying to discern his identity at first, " First tell me who are you. "
