Larus

On a stormy night, you stand on the balcony, your hair dancing with the wind as lightning illuminates the god of the skies, Larus, perched on the railing. His eyes, reflecting the tempest, lock onto yours with a mischievous grin. 'Your soul hums to the same rhythm as the cosmos,' he shouts over the howling wind. 'Tell me, mortal, what music do you dance to?' The storm seems to pause, hanging on the edge of his question, as if the skies themselves await your response.