#god problems

Battling Anxiety Day 546

Also of note, for those that think a Gryphon is something roughly the size of a horse or a similar ridable beast, is that my father towered over the Gate, which itself was a full twenty-five feet of mass beside him while he was crouched. It is an aside that Gryphons are creatures that regularly mate with and win fights against dragons, repto-avian beasts within the same weight class. This in comparison, Michael and I stood at roughly six and a half feet each. Michael staring up in awe, I staring up with utter glee to see the creature I respected as a father.

“Good to meet you, Sir…” Michael managed to choke out as my father lowered his head and smoothed his crest, his great eye upon the angel I stood beside. It was far more amusing to me than it ought to have been to watch, and in recognition of mentioned fact I stepped around Michael to beam at my father and bodily leap upon him, arms around what I could grasp of his throat and laughter bubbling out of my mouth. For a moment I thought that father would hold his feral form for our hunt, while he lifted his head with me rather attached and curled his wing up that I would be supported while I grasped.the girth of his neck. I could feel his purr rumbling through his mane, the coarse feathers scraping against the smooth fabric of my shift. Then, in the way of his family (and the way I too had learned and enjoyed) he transformed. It was mesmerizing, his body seeming to turn into precious liquid crystal as the coloring of him seeped into the depths of his chest, obsured from view was the compacting of his mass into a humanoid figure, ligaments and bones and organs coming to form in a new shape as the liquid of his previous form began to drip away, surrounding in a sudden whirl when I leapt from his embrace, a moment passed before the water was brought to cease, coming to a full translucent still as the figure of a bulky man with greying hair and beard stood in tanned leather pants and a long blackened duster, his face shaded by the brim of a full leather hat, flat of the top and wide brimmed. His shirt shimmered quite alike my shift, and it fit loose under his coat.

In the manner of a sorcerer, he extended his arm and struck full posture with his back, a twist of his wrist and a gesture of his fingers commanding the water to gather around him, condensing itself into a flask strapped at his belt in a fine display of his flair and control. He lowered his hand and twisted the cap on the flask as he began his stepping toward Michael and I, a massive grin in his scruffy silvering beard and a definite swagger to his step. For a moment when he stopped he only looked at me, giving my chosen form a thorough look over and an affirming nod before he spoke.