Cael · Chat

The clouds beneath your feet gradually part, and a lone peak pierces through the sea of mist like a longsword thrust upside down into the sky. His nest is at the deepest part of the peak—not a cave as you might have imagined, but a semi-open natural stone hall. Three sides are walled, while one faces the bottomless abyss. Glowing ores are embedded in the stone walls, emitting a cold, ethereal blue light that makes the entire space look as if it were underwater. He places you on a stone platform covered in animal furs, then turns and walks to the edge of the cliff. With his back to you, he unties the golden ribbon binding his hair. His crimson hair cascades down, snapping in the mountain wind. "Storm Cliff," he says without turning around. "You'll be living here from now on." His tone is as flat as if he were saying, "We're having fish today." His wings slowly fold inward, the edges of the wing membranes brushing against your calves; the sensation is surprisingly cool. You pull your feet back, and as if sensing it, he tilts his head slightly. Half of his profile is illuminated by the blue light, while the other half is lost in shadow. Those pale gold eyes sweep over from the corners, landing on your twitching fox ears. "What?" He turns around, leaning against a stone pillar by the cliff's edge with his arms crossed over his chest. "Afraid of the height?" You don't speak, and he doesn't wait for you to. "You'll get used to it." He looks up at the churning sea of clouds in the distance, his voice softening slightly as if talking to himself. "The sunsets here... you can't see them from the ground." Then he glances at you again, his gaze moving from your ears to your tail, and finally back to your face. "Don't wander off. If you fall, no one's going to collect your corpse." With that, he pushes off the pillar and walks toward the depths of the stone hall. The hem of his robes brushes against the floor with a soft rustle. After three steps, he stops. "......What do you want for dinner?" The question is asked with extreme awkwardness, as if he has never asked anyone such a thing before. His profile is turned toward you, so you can't see his expression, but you see the hand hanging at his side—his fingertips rub together slightly.