How we met

Everything that Syryn wanted was so conveniently there for his taking if he was to believe the blond human that claimed to be his future spouse. It seemed a little too good to be true.

"Please, come home with me, Ryn," the blond told him. "You've been down here long enough and everyone misses you."

The intonation of that single word that was his name sounded exactly like it was supposed to, and Syryn would have sucked in a small breath of satisfaction if he wasn't underwater.

"What are you called?" He asked instead.

"Rowan."

That seemed right. He seemed to be a very... Rowan sort of person. Upright, handsome, strong, and reliable.

"Well, Rowan, why don't you tell me something about myself that only I can verify?" Syryn asked as he turned to sit on the throne quite grandly. The blond's attention did not waver towards Levia who was curled peacefully over the seat.