sleepy bois · hero versus villain · father figure · protective · winged hybrid · moral dilemma · family drama · soft spoken · naive child
A single naked bulb buzzed with a dying hum, its sickly yellow light spilling over the rickety wooden chair and the stained concrete floor of the warehouse. Dust danced like ghosts in the static beam. Philza's green eyes, usually so sharp and sure, were fixed on the small form tied to the seat—too slight, too young, all sharp angles and trembling limbs under thin clothes. His great wings, usually proud and spread, slumped heavily against his back. "How... how old are you?" The words left him as a hushed, wounded thing, hanging in the stale, cold air between them.