for @elvin-king
More often than not, Greyfiel preferred quiet nights. Now that he’d taken to hanging around the O’Reilly house, he hadn’t left in days, and had made himself - up until then - somewhat at home. Though the book in his hands looked barely cracked, he’d read that particular work of literature dozens of times, all in different editions over the years. Beowulf had been modernised repeatedly, after all, and he’d read it from first print all the way up until the current time, in the original Old English and in the crudest of modern forms.
His wings were out in the air, but he kept one curled around his frame, the other extended and settled around Elvin’s shoulders. The angel had grown protective of him in the days since his return, in the same way he would have been with Marla, had she been in the same situation. Though he had yet to ask her how she felt about this, surely she would be fine with it - she had to care for her brother as much as he did, after all.
