The Nephilim

•the god of love isn't feeling so lovely•

"you cruel child of guileful Aphrodite"

Hundreds of shoes clicked agains the polished tiles of the grand museum and echoed against the great walls. Giant chandeliers on the ceiling casted a warm golden glow and mirrored on the glossy pamphlets clutched in the hands of the visitors. Quite murmurs could be heard all over the place.

A middle aged woman struggled to gather the group of school kids they'd bought for a tour. Architects, historians, professors, archaeologists and people from all walks of life milled around.

Sombre and boring.

Except one particularly striking silhouette against a giant, ancient looking painting of a cherub. He looked ethereal, even from behind. His long black overcoat settled ever so neatly over his broad shoulders and lean body. He looked tall. Very tall. Hair tousled so perfectly, one would think the wind was in love with him. Anyone with a side view, could cut their hearts with his sharp jawline. A dark turtleneck peeked through his collar hugging his long neck snugly, outlining the Adam's apple, ever so prominent because of his raised neck.

It was a pity no one saw his face up close. His eyes shone the brightest green, the depth in it so dark one could drown in it and yet wanna float in an endless bliss. He had this aura that would make you shudder to your bones but pull you ever so close. It was magnetic. It was hypnotic. It was spellbinding. It was terrifying. His nose so straight and perfect that it looked like it was sculpted by the finest sculptor in Ancient Greece. His lips looked coarse ironically, giving a rugged look to his face but with a pink undertone to it that made it undeniably attractive. A single silver chain hung around his neck, thin and elegant, with a miniature bronze gun dangling on its edge.

Something, however didn't feel quite right. His beautiful face was set in a frown, his eyes blazing with an emotion no mortal could realise. He stared at the painting so long and hard it would've cowered in fear had it been a real person. His eyes ignored the minor details of the painting and glared at the cherub through a tunnel vision.
If a mundane, dare try and riddle themselves with his expression, they'd assume he almost look offended and enraged. His long fingers reached into the pockets of his trousers and pulled out an expensive looking cigarette, so extortionate, like it wouldn't affect one's health in a bad way. He elegantly and boldly lifted it to his lips in such a conservative environment. His jaw tightened the more he stood there. Perhaps no one bothered to approach or reprimand him for the very same foreboding expression or the fact that he hadn't bothered to light the stick between his pearly white teeth, snugly rigged there like a Love God's dart.

Only if anyone knew that he was staring at his very own manifestation that humans had imagined and fantasised as.

"How utterly humiliating", he thought to himself as the chubby little creature with its mini harp clutched to his side, and tiny wings looked back at him coyly through it's well tinted lashes.

If anyone had looked closely enough at that very moment, they would've seen the mysterious figure's back quiver a little.

In contrast to the painting, he was a magnificent creature and he wondered what inspired those puny mortals to portray him as such. He was aware of the many other illustrations that humans had conjured of him over the centuries. Some of them, grand and sophisticated, but nothing could compare to the glory of his actual being.

He was Eros. God of Love and Passion. Feared by the demons and Gods alike. He was a monstrosity and a divinity. He was heaven and hell, intertwined.

"What a fucking abomination", he said, surprisingly loud and clear enough, through his clenched teeth before walking away in long strides.

A/N: phew Eros seems a handful don't he? What did you think of the first chapter :)) lemme know