Built to Burn

Artorias had never really put a lot of thought into himself as the parental type, yet here he was, caring for this fledgling barely beyond being a chick, amused smile on his features from how dang adorable and innocent the bird was. From the way he'd enjoyed his ride on his back, equating it to flying, to his juvenile wonder and questions whenever the Aegis gave him an answer, it was like watching the child discover the world for the first time—which he was! Artorias had to remind himself that up until now, the only life Zephyrus had known was the inside of that chimney. Zephyr asked what winter was and how he would survive it without fur. Art chuckled and responded, "Winter is a season. There are four of them: spring, summer, fall, and winter. As time goes by, our world goes through changes, just like we do as we grow. Winter is the coldest and wettest season." He carefully ran the damp cloth through Zephyr's downy feathers, just enough to clean them off without soaking the fledgling. "You don't need fur to survive winter, Zephyr. You have feathers, and as you grow up, they'll become denser, hardier, more resilient to the cold and weather. Plus you have this big castle to keep you dry and warm." Artorias didn't know what he would ultimately do with Zephyrus yet, but he knew he would keep him in the Hallows until he came of age to make his own decisions. A ward to the Aegis.

The shock and awe on Zephyr's face following his call for his fiancée was enough to draw a lighthearted laugh from the dire wolf, who finished cleaning the fledgling off, and then began to pat him dry with a dry cloth. Now that he was clean, Art could see the scrape on the raptor's head wasn't anything serious. Likely nothing more than a scab and a bad memory with a bit of time. He'd luckily avoided the eagle's talons and escaped mostly unscathed. He didn't get long to inspect the bird before he heard Briar come into the kitchen, her words trailing off the closer she came. Artorias knew she was looking at Zephyrus without even needing to look her way. "This is Zephyrus, but he likes Zeph or Zephyr," explained Artorias, setting the cloth down once he'd finished drying the fledgling, using his large paws to help keep the baby raptor stable while he wobbled unevenly on juvenile talons. "I found him up in the tower. He was fending off an eagle all on his own." Artorias then turned darkened amber eyes to Briar, the morbid look in them begging her not to ask further questions and to understand the implication he said those words with. Zephyr's parents were dead, his adoptive parent was dead, and now he was an orphan. Orphaned—but not alone.

The look of curiosity and confusion on Zephyrus' face while he studied Briar was given a voice when he asked a clarifying question to Art in a single word. Artorias looked back to Briar, following the raptor's oceanic eyes to the horns atop his love's crown. "That's right. Wolf," he answered the child, snickering a little while he added, "A little bit funny looking, but still all wolf. Briar, come introduce yourself. Zephyr's going to be staying with us." He would discuss this with her further at a later time and in private, but there was no way he wasn't raising this child to adulthood or condemning him to death. Zephyrus would grow up as a Hallowed bird, afforded all the same opportunities, protections, and lifestyle any of his wolves were given.

"Artorias Carpathius"