It was an odd shame. For a long time now, it had been hidden under millennia of grief and drone-like watching of a world that he once belonged in. Even now with the freedom of a new life licking at his heels, he still felt ashamed of himself.
It was in that drone-like state that Varaelian had found himself once more, staring out his office window, the glow of the Eversong mid-day sun fresh on his skin. He watched as birds danced between the trees and flew above the holes in the canopy, singing their sweet song and enjoying the breeze between their feathers.
It was so natural to them. A bird does not fear falling, they trust their wings to carry them, so then why couldn’t he?
Had a thousand-thousand years clipped his? Walking the sands was easier than trying to spread out within a cramped cave. It chewed at him, remembering only what Abragos had told him, “It is a part of you.”
It only seemed to anger him further, forcing him to swipe a hand across his desk and knock a bottle of wine to the floor, smashing it in the process, his eyes flaring blue and slit in rage. He had more courage trusting Arenthiel’s powerful wings than his own, taking her into battle seemed as second nature. Seeing the sky upon her back and feeling the wind upon his face was joy indescribable.
Van couldn’t even look at the mess he had made on the floor, ignoring it and instead moving toward his couch, falling face first into it with a long groan and child-like whine.
