The smoking carcass, charred and veined with bright red ember light peeking through the cracks of igneous black, lands at the erstwhile prince's feet. A cursory glance might result in confusion, for the bird had lost any dignified form, but the bright, curling plumage that trails fustian from its tail signifies it as a very beautiful and very rare bird indeed. The dragon watches the prince expectantly, eyes widening as he waits for his response.
"I counted the days," he explains, a little confused with a hint of impatience edging his words. "it's a day of distinction for you, isn't it? I caught him at the edge of the wood, before the stretch of green that leads to the mountain's spine. They only emerge every 100 years, so he's quite special." The dragon takes a seat beside him, gazing at the waning fire together. "Like you."
π ππππ ππππππ as Xavier takes in the creature laid upon his feet, recognition crossing his features of more than just a rare hunt. He realizes with clarity that this fiend he so affectionately has spent these months with has gifted him a forest guardian.
Hard to poach in the first place and even later banned within Philos for the sacred properties of their feathers. Feathers which symbolized the most honorable of statuses, adorned by the rulers of his nation. Yet he can't even be upset about what in Sylus's nature to do.
Even stranger, he finds it ... almost as adorable as a cat leaving a dead mouse at your door; a gift of affection.
It's not missed by him this was the intent when Xavier peers back at his Dionysian features, and finds a keenness in his red eyes that makes his neck warm when he hears his explanation.
β Like me ... ? β He crouches down to brush his fingers over its feathers, and thinks that for all the conventional gifts he's been given as a prince ( to garner favor, to tempt trade, to even coax outrage all for his kingdom's future ) .... this single unconventional one has felt the least selfish and most intentional he's ever had. Xavier expertly plucks one feather from its carcass, crimson and ochre like a sunset in its coloring, then rises back up to bound over closer to the dragon.
The smile on his face is faint in its reticence, but his eyes convey all the tenderness and wickedness at once that he feels towards him when he presses the feather against Sylus's lips.
β They never taught us that you celebrated birthdays. So... if this is just a human's gift, what kind of hunt celebrates a dragon's birth ? β He inquires softly as he leans closer. Then ever so sweetly Xavier presses his lips against the thinly veiled other side of the feather in acceptance of his gift and his companion both, his gaze steady and unfaltering upon the both beautiful and deadly creature before him. β I want to know. So I can renumerate you in kind for this gift one day, too. β
