Past the tribulation

That was jarring. The winged boy felt heat rise in his cheeks at her response. ‘Sir’? He wasn’t Sir anybody. But the next sentence was the most jarring yet. “Did he?” he blurted out in surprise. When had Sirius ever spoken about Mort with pride? The bumbling awkward none-fighter.

He shuffled his feet, embarrassed at his own surprise, before his grin came back to settle across his maw. He reached over and plucked at a leaf that was trying to escape her pile, and tucked it back under her paw. “Iris - that's a really nice name. Did your parents name you after your eyes?” Thanks to Io, he knew a couple things about flowers and herbs. Enough to know that Iris’s came in the same shade as her eyes. He glanced back at them again, and grinned as he realised the way her markings opened up like petals around them. They really were a striking feature.

“I bet you have to beat the boys away with a stick” he added with a spark of friendly amusement, before raising his paw “Of course, now that you're part of the Armada, you’ll have me to do it for you.” It had been… a long time since new blood had made their way to the Armada, since he had introduced himself to them. He remembered the way he used to seek all of them out, offer his welcome and help them feel at home. That was familiar in a way that almost hurt, but it was a good memory. He just wanted to make Iris smile.

"Mortis Fatalis"