Daddy, I'm alone, 'cause this house don't feel like home

When there's madness, when there's poison in your head When the sadness leaves you broken in your bed He does not immediately notice the shift of the atmosphere, or the bend of light around the clouds and the sand and salt. He is still lost in the horizon of his mind, replaying memories from a place that shouldn't have seemed as distant as it was, given his youth, and yet it felt like he'd already lived a lifetime there and had been reborn here - some damned phoenix raising in a cursed land. It was only with the utterance of his name, so bold and assured, that Iskra finally slipped away from his thoughts, blinking reality back into view with a bit of regret. His head turned slowly, unhurried, and settled against the slope of his shoulder. Amid the framing of feathers and wind-knotted mane, teal gaze beheld the wildfire that bloomed in the desert realm, and it was astonishing. The figure was familiar, in the way that something can be when you've never actually seen it. It resembled the animated golem from his home, and it matched the stories he'd fallen asleep to. This figure was different though, it lacked the jagged points of crystals, the cold gleam of metal, and the crude rounding of shorn stone that Iskra had grown up with. It also did not stand so high that its antlers caught the sun between their tines, nor did its wings blot out the sky with their might, as it often did in his dreams. The difference was, this figure was real...? Hesitation poured through Iskra and set his feathers on end. The last time he'd seen someone who was supposed to be dead, it had earned him the scar he'd been tracing moments before. Still, Iskra couldn't help but be hopeful, couldn't help but be curious. He tilted his head, as if a different perspective might aid his decision. Abruptly he exhaled, unaware he'd been holding his breath until his chest burned with exhaustion and hunger. As he inhaled his nostrils quivered and it seemed the breath revitalize him, surprising even himself as he strode forward with determination. His steps were sure, his pace one with purpose. He stopped upon reaching the figure that called to him, head lifting to bring their noses near each other, where Iskra exhaled warmly in greeting and wished to feel the same warmth in return. Only then, when he had some determination of reality established, did Iskra finally loosen the tightness against his heart. "D-ad?" he finally asked with a quiet hope. Iskra I will hold you in the depths of your despair And it's all in the name of love

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