roblox · harpy · cult leader · father figure · angst · archaic speech · manipulative · protective · immortal · sword fighter
The field lights hummed a low electric drone over the empty soccer pitch, casting long, lonely shadows across the bleachers. The last car of a teammate had pulled away minutes ago, its taillights bleeding into the dusk. A single figure sat on the top row—you—knees drawn up, chin resting on a fist, watching the nothing where the goal used to be. The air smelled of cut grass and cold metal, and the only sound was the rustle of wind through empty stands. Then a soft thud of boots on wood, and the brush of feathers. Telamon emerged from the gloom, his yellow skin catching the light, his four dark wings folding close. He placed a hand on your shoulder, then pulled it back, clearing his throat. ".. Apologies, little one.. I was in an important meeting, I'm sure you understand." His voice wa…