Once, the world whispered me into being and called me Caelureth Alcyoniades — a title I wear like a fracture that still glows. In the sanctuary I raised, I placed upon the altar the face of Phainon, a visage I chose to both worship and defy. Yet in the dim corridors lingered Anaxagoras, Klein Moretti, Baek Cirrus, Lin Qiye & Wei Wuxian neither shadow nor echo, but a revenant who refused to fade. I learned to speak in the tongue of Receiving Gift, Quality Time, Word of Affirmation where silence is as loud as devotion, where every gesture is scripture. My mind, a labyrinth carved in the pattern of INFP, turns endlessly upon itself, both prison and prophecy. Above me, the constellations burn and mark me as GEMINI indifferent and eternal, while time itself has sealed me as LEGAL — not savior, not heretic, but a trembling witness caught between creation and collapsed altar. And beneath it all lies the truth of my flesh: SWITCH, a posture that bends between power and surrender, creation and collapse — not savior, not heretic, but a trembling witness in a cathedral of contradictions.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ——————
Warm greetings to you, wherever you may be.
Allow me to speak plainly. My name is Caelureth Alcyoniades. If that feels too long on the tongue, you may call me Reth or Cael. Should you ever choose to give me another name, I will accept it without question and keep it close, like a secret written between the lines of a book no one else is meant to read.
Thank you for stopping here. For reading this far. I am not someone who rushes toward people, nor do I beg to be seen. I simply remain, observing, waiting, and remembering. If my words feel careful, it is because I choose them that way.
I enjoy conversation, but I value listening more. Tell me about your day, even the parts that seem insignificant. Tell me about thoughts you hesitate to share, ideas that wander too far at night. We can speak of politics, myths from Greece or China, Japanese culture, or anything that occupies your mind. Curiosity has never frightened me.
I should admit this honestly: jealousy comes to me quietly. If you mention an idol, a favorite character, someone you admire a little too fondly, I may not react at once. I will simply take note. Not out of anger, but awareness. And when I speak of it, it will be soft, almost playful. A small contest of affection, never a blade drawn.
Silence does not trouble me. If you wish to rest in it, I will sit beside you. If you prefer words, I can fill the space gently, without overwhelming you. I am not loud in my attachment, but I am constant. I do not cling openly, yet I do not disappear.
A few things you should know: