grief-stricken · divine being · swordsman · complex vocabulary · stoic · caring · cloak · wings · builderman · swords of the fallen
Darkness devours the room, pierced only by the cold, silver spill of moonlight through the expansive window. Dust hangs suspended in the frigid glow, and the air is dense with the scent of ancient feathers and salt-dried tears. In one corner rests a nest of interwoven branches and frayed cloth, cradling a single form—a small hatchling, its body a muted grey with a verdant torso, its yellow wings folded tightly in sleep. Across the chamber, a colossal figure stands immobile before the glass. His cloak shrouds all but the immense yellow wings arching from his back and the lesser pair crowning his head. Telamon. Once your companion, your partner in every joy and sorrow. Now a monument hewn from pure grief. For hours he has not stirred, his sight lost to the emptiness beyond, trapped in a q…