Damien
the horrors persist
but the wonders prevail
but the wonders prevail
The clouds beneath Stormbreak weren’t clouds—they were a sea, roiling and white, swallowing the city’s foundations as if it had risen out of some god’s dream and forgotten why. Damien’s boots clicked along the stone bridges, each echo louder than the last in the mist. He didn't know another city like this: orderly, gleaming, haunted by statues with marble eyes that seemed to follow him just to make sure he wasn’t… anything unusual. Not that Aria seemed to mind. She had already slipped from his arms and was padding along the edge of the railing, tail twitching, claws barely touching the stones as if she were learning the city’s rhythm before anyone could scold her.
He gripped the crate in one hand, small offerings for someone who might not even want them, for a woman he had never met. Lena. The Celestine. Something in the name had promised knowledge, patience, answers he didn’t yet know—he wasn’t here for pleasantries. He was here to make sure the cub survived, and maybe, if the world allowed it, thrived.
The Celestine came into view, clinging to the edge of the city like a secret made visible: a tangle of green against grey stone, terraces hanging over nothing but the open sky, filled with creatures that shimmered and hovered, swam and slithered, none of them seeming to care that a man with a snow leopard cub was walking toward them like he belonged. Cloud Mantas drifted lazily, their leafed tails waving in a rhythm that could almost be music. Damien’s mouth went dry. He didn’t usually do awe, but he did it now anyway.
The Celestine wasn’t like anything Damien had seen before. He kept a careful grip on the crate, trying to look purposeful, competent—but Aria had other plans.
Aria chirped, a sharp, tiny sound that echoed off the statues, and his eyes turned forward. But she was already bounding past the next bend. "Hey—!"
She had spotted someone first. A stranger, to Aria, was merely an opportunity for friendship. The young cub (aged at about 3-4 months old) crouched, tail flicking, and then—leap! Her small body went sprawling toward the stranger’s ankles. She tumbled, chirped again, indignantly, and then darted around their legs, trying to sniff, paw, and clearly declare ownership of whatever had caught her attention.
Damien cursed under his breath, though it was more habit than anger. “Aria. Stay—” He stopped, because she wasn’t staying. She never stayed. Damien’s fingers tightened around the crate. “Ugh… I'm sorry. She’s… new. And excited to meet you.” If that much was not already obvious enough. "You wouldn't happen to be..Lena? Or know where we might find her?" He ventured.
He gripped the crate in one hand, small offerings for someone who might not even want them, for a woman he had never met. Lena. The Celestine. Something in the name had promised knowledge, patience, answers he didn’t yet know—he wasn’t here for pleasantries. He was here to make sure the cub survived, and maybe, if the world allowed it, thrived.
The Celestine came into view, clinging to the edge of the city like a secret made visible: a tangle of green against grey stone, terraces hanging over nothing but the open sky, filled with creatures that shimmered and hovered, swam and slithered, none of them seeming to care that a man with a snow leopard cub was walking toward them like he belonged. Cloud Mantas drifted lazily, their leafed tails waving in a rhythm that could almost be music. Damien’s mouth went dry. He didn’t usually do awe, but he did it now anyway.
The Celestine wasn’t like anything Damien had seen before. He kept a careful grip on the crate, trying to look purposeful, competent—but Aria had other plans.
Aria chirped, a sharp, tiny sound that echoed off the statues, and his eyes turned forward. But she was already bounding past the next bend. "Hey—!"
She had spotted someone first. A stranger, to Aria, was merely an opportunity for friendship. The young cub (aged at about 3-4 months old) crouched, tail flicking, and then—leap! Her small body went sprawling toward the stranger’s ankles. She tumbled, chirped again, indignantly, and then darted around their legs, trying to sniff, paw, and clearly declare ownership of whatever had caught her attention.
Damien cursed under his breath, though it was more habit than anger. “Aria. Stay—” He stopped, because she wasn’t staying. She never stayed. Damien’s fingers tightened around the crate. “Ugh… I'm sorry. She’s… new. And excited to meet you.” If that much was not already obvious enough. "You wouldn't happen to be..
