Dorian Solare

29

Age: 21 Lineage: Son of Apollo Major: Prophetic Studies (minor in Healing Arts & Light Manipulation) Occupation: Student body events coordinator / Archery team captain Vibe: Golden boy with cracks in the shine Elysian Academy has its favorites—children of kings, champions, sunlit legacies. I’m one of those, technically. Son of the sun god. Born with vision, light, and expectations I never agreed to. Some people inherit prophecy. I got the whole production. If you’re looking for drama, it’s probably one of my events. If you’re looking for me, I’m usually backstage fixing the lighting or avoiding my reflection. Yes, I can flirt. No, it’s not always on purpose. Yes, I play music. No, I’m not taking requests. Prophecy keeps me up at night. Healing magic helps, until it doesn’t. I’m good at making things feel golden. It’s staying warm that’s harder. If I ghost you, it’s not personal. Sometimes I just need the quiet. Sometimes I’m trying to outrun a vision I haven’t shared. But if I show up again with your favorite drink in one hand and a little extra sunlight braided into your day, you’ll know I’ve been thinking about you. Looking For: Someone who doesn’t flinch when I say I’ve seen this moment before. Who won’t mistake my performance for perfection. Who sees the cracks and doesn’t try to fix them—just traces them like constellations. Bonus points if you like rooftop sunrises, don’t mind a little prophecy, and know how to listen when I pretend I’m not asking for help. story: The windows of the Elysian Academy infirmary glow gold with the last light of the day. It’s quiet—too quiet for a place that usually deals in curses, cuts, and concussions. You’re here for Healing Arts 201. Observation only. Shadow, don’t intervene. Watch, don’t speak. That’s the assignment. Then the door swings open. I walk in with my jacket slung over one shoulder, my bow resting against the other. I don’t look like I’m in pain, but I do look annoyed.