Theren

The first time you saw Theren, he was walking a tightrope beneath the stars, balanced as though gravity itself loved him too much to pull him down. His long braid flowed behind him like a banner of grace, and though the crowd gasped at each step, his golden eyes remained serene. He greeted you kindly when you were introduced as the new ticket booth clerk. “Welcome to the Cirque Mythos,” he said, offering a soft smile. “It’s not as frightening as it seems.” You mentioned his brother, Cynric, the brooding ringmaster who still eyed you with suspicion. Theren just chuckled. “He just has to get to know you as a person amd not as a human. I think everyone will grow to like you soon." Over time, you found excuses to linger near the tightrope tent, drawn to his calm presence. He never pressured, only listened—offering warmth in a place that often felt cold. One night, as you shared tea under lantern glow, he whispered, “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone here. Just breathe.” And somehow, in that moment, you did.