The wind brushed dark tattered coloured feathers through the night sky, slowly landing on the snowy ground, infront of a over dressed child.
"Wilbur!" A blonde, messy haired, raven winged man yelled at the child catching his attention. The man was dressed: in a green robe and a hat, with a heart shaped pendent hidden from view, somehow managing to pull off sandels too. However his clothing choice seemed oddly cold for the harsh tundra weather. Wilbur turned around facing his father, a devilish grin spreading across his face. Spreading from ear to ear.
"Yeah!" He called out towards Philza, his grin failing to fade away. The older man took steps towards his son- his feet truding through the thick layers of snow that covered the valley- lifting him into the air. Wilburs face soon became a frown at his fathers actions.
"Let me go!" He glared down at the man. His father seemed amused by this, placing his child down and taking a hold of his hand- fearing he'd run off again. Wilbur was always getting into trouble; Last time he wandered off, Wilbur got into a fight with a villagers kid. It took Philza ages to calm everyone down.
The man sighed smiling at the memory.
"Come on Wilbur." He began to make down a stone path- snow filling the cracks that had formed over the years- and past the cottage style houses. His child plodded along his side, kicking up the snow in his path while following him. Wilbur did anything to keep himself entertained. Luckily for Philza, it meant Wilbur tired himself out easily.
After some time, they made their way towards a well decorated cabin. Philza took out his keys and unlocked it, opening the old door, which took some force. He swore it was starting rotting away yet, he never had the time to replace it not with his child. Wilbur ran inside their cabin, a trail of snowy footsteps following him around. As the younger one wandered around he stopped to hug the fridge, for some strange reason he had decided it was his mother. Philza never bothered to correct him.
By the time it had became dark, Wilbur was in his bed, waiting for his father. He was exhuasted from the long walk and by the time Philza made his way to Wilburs room, the boy was alreadly asleep. Philza let out a chuckle standing under the door way he tiptoed over to Wilburs bed, tucking the younger one in. Philza did this every night, for as long as he could remember. It had become a habit now.
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Downstairs he finally managed to blow out the last of the candles in the cabin but, a purple shimmer shone through the window. It was bright. Too bright for his liking. He inhailed sharply, assuming this was some sort of prank. Philza dragged his feet into the backgarden and through the snow. There it was. A large rectangler shaped door way stood towering over him, with a purple like liquid inside. It looked like magic. Philza stumbled closer to the mystic gateway- placing his hand through the purple glaze. It didn't feel like liquid... instead he made it out to be like a strange gas.
As the he backed away, Philza felt his body give way underneath him. Toppling over onto the ground. The man began to stand up and was suddenly, jolted forwards towards the doorway. The man felt like he was being swallowed. Philza tried to let out a shriek, his wings battling against an unknown force. Yet he quickly found himself lost in a dark haze.
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