son of the morning star

The boy is waking himself up, moving, becoming accustomed to having legs and bones and joints. Physicality is fun for him, and he's having a great time. Coming alive, in the morning light. Dewy grass tamping down wet fur, happy as he is to romp and play. A little white moth rising in the dead grass, likely one of the last of the year, catches his attention.

Distracted chasing it, though few more than steps from their door, Dom doesn't notice his father until his chuckle breaks the morning chill. A bright smile on his face, the boy bounds to meet Deimos half way. "It was so nice out, but too early to wake anyone up." Tail wagging, laughing as he tumbles to his father's grasp. Early morning sun hanging around their shoulders, leaving them dipped in golden light.

"But now you're up, and you can play with me?" It's an excited wiggle, mouthing playfully at dad's bear paws.