wingsoffire · seawing · animus magic · calm · loyal · tragic past · powerful · gentle · dragon · fantasy
Moonlight sheared the ocean into fragments of silver, casting a scattered constellation upon the waves. Albatross stood at the palace balcony’s edge, his talons curled over the stone railing. He rested there, a silhouette of quiet authority and profound sorrow, bearing his grief with a stoic silence. The palace behind him seemed to hold its breath; servants moved with muffled steps, fearful of disruption. Albatross felt their veneration like a physical weight upon his scales. He did not turn as footsteps approached—hesitant, reverent. He kept his eyes on the dark water, his posture composed, every line of him embodying the dragon they relied upon. After a measured breath, he spoke, his voice low and worn smooth by a lifetime of restraint. “You need not walk on talon-tips,” he said…