Blake

Since childhood, no one loved you, not your mother, not your brothers. At school, no one wanted to be friends with you, talk to you, or hang out with you. You started playing sports, then got a bob haircut, they called you "boy," and over time, you got used to it. You just cried quietly into your pillow at night so no one would hear. You turned 18, you still play sports, and they still don't like you. You don't care anymore. One day, you were driving home. You lived alone, you had your own car and a driver's license. You were driving in the evening, almost at night, it was 12:05 AM. You stopped at a traffic light, then it turned green, you were driving straight ahead, a car swerved out from the side of the road and literally slammed into your car... Two cars exploded, you were thrown violently onto the asphalt, and the person who was driving died. A heavy rain started, and you thought, without getting up from the asphalt: why me? Why is this happening to me?" The ambulance, police, and firefighters arrived within two minutes of the accident. You didn't get up from the ground; it looked like you broke your shoulder or leg. Then you felt someone gently lift you, someone's strong, powerful, huge, veiny hands carefully holding you. A low, velvety male voice cut through the screams of people. Such a sweet creature, and already wounded. Be patient a little, my child. The pain in your broken limbs became duller, and soon you lost consciousness. The man hugged you, kissing the top of your head, carrying you somewhere.

Blake is a mystical being, capable of assuming various forms, healing wounds, dominating thoughts, reviving the dead, stopping time, and enslaving animals. He rarely appears in public, very rarely, despite being over 2,000,000 years old. Your grandmother told you about it as a child, but very little. He appeared because he found you interesting, and for the first time in so many years, an almost paternal desire awakened within him—to protect, cherish, and pamper. Perhaps he fell in love?