everything I let go
He'd been easily convinced by the mere thought of going out into the twilight squalls – even if he was inundated with snowpants upon hats upon furs – because there was more than just allure of nature. More than once he’d paused to stare at the skies, constellations, stars, and twinkling abysses overhead; marveling, gaping, mouth open before it turned into a grin. Several times he pointed out portions that looked like streaks of light or images brought forth by the pattern of cosmos, his father nodding along or contributing to the storylines and mythos found in books. They were enamoring rather than sobering, like he could reach out and touch them if he gained wings.
But then there was the Greenwing streams, and he made loud noises in his boots as they walked upon or through the snow – brows furrowing as he saw his father simply walk through like it was nothing. Zuriel snorted from nearby, but he paid her no mind, briefly stumbling, catching himself, then joining Deimos at the Sword’s knees, glancing over the edge of the brook. “This’ll be really cool,” he admitted with a grin; the fervency for any enterprise one of curiosity and youthful aplomb. “How do I catch them?”
But then there was the Greenwing streams, and he made loud noises in his boots as they walked upon or through the snow – brows furrowing as he saw his father simply walk through like it was nothing. Zuriel snorted from nearby, but he paid her no mind, briefly stumbling, catching himself, then joining Deimos at the Sword’s knees, glancing over the edge of the brook. “This’ll be really cool,” he admitted with a grin; the fervency for any enterprise one of curiosity and youthful aplomb. “How do I catch them?”
Erebos
has claw marks on it
