dont know where your mind is

Azrael

What would they call a dragon? They contemplate it as they continue to climb the rest of the way up the Spire. “Hm. Maybe…” They pause, their nose wrinkling as they think up a good suitable name, digging into the names from books they’d read they liked. “F…Fausto!” Azrael can’t help the spark of a grin that spreads along their face, their head swinging back to look toward their father, the curls bouncing around their face with the movement.

It's just in time to block the sadness in their father’s face at the mention of taking the portraits and speaking to them that way. Honestly, Azrael hopes it never gets to that point. So instead, their shoulder is clasped by their father and they still, offering a bright smile up at their father, before nodding and realizing they’d need some reinforcement for the debris piles. “Sure, Papa.” They say softly, moving to follow their father there and take him up on the offer.

Once Bastien was in a suitable position, they do their best to climb up onto his shoulders, taking the rod to place it up on the flattest point of the debris. “I think… We should reinforce it because of the wind, don’t you?” They ask, peering down at Bastien for his approval.

Oh, brother, run fast, brother, run fast
They're coming your way, coming your way