[open] The only song I know that I would ever even wish to sing

[Lillia]

A biting wind blew through the meadow where the angel nestled, heralding an early and harsh winter. Lillia's incomprehensible grumbles indicated her feelings on that matter. With her small stature and short coat, she did not hold up well in the winter, least of all spiritually; even now, before the first snowfall, she found herself blaspheming the Gods who tore her from their warm, heavenly sanctuaries. What good could she, one inconsequential little angel, possibly do to increase their kingdoms while marooned in a land that tried to kill her with its harsh winters that lasted at least a quarter of each sun-cycle? Lillia tucked her head further into the downy bed she'd gathered for herself, splaying her wings in an articulate, cramped manner so as to create a shelter for herself from the wind.

Within the warmth of her nest, tucked along the tree line encircling the meadow and between a small series of bushes and rocks, Lillia eventually grew comfortable enough to slip into a light sleep. An angelic nap, if you will. Her grumbles came out as short warblings and snorts, snores, and twitches of her feathery wings which canopied and hid her cremello figure in its downy nest. Just as Lillia felt her consciousness slipping into that syrupy-sweet place where she might exercise her connection to time to fast forward through this bitter autumn gale, it happened.

Snap!

With an enormous jolt and an affronted squeal-snort combo, Lillia erupted her haloed head from between her wings to glare into the face of whoever dared to stomp through her nest and disturb her misery sleep. With her forelock tangled in her eyelashes, her feathers befrumpled and askew, and her halo in true danger of falling off her crown for its sideways lean, she made quite the sight; ears pinned, nostrils flared, and challenging sounds issuing from her usually docile, if not - ahem - angelic, self.

[Pollux]

It wasn’t often he left the solitude of the forest, mostly due to his own appearance- he felt like a he was monster and often found himself ashamed of it, shying away from public eyes. But something today draws the wendigo out; perhaps it was the changing of the leaves that had drawn him into the open meadow. 

Pollux moved through it with an easy, uneven lope, all long legs and narrow angles, his gait a little too loose to ever look graceful. He was gangly in the way of something grown too fast and left half-finished, black hide stretched tight over jutting shoulders and ribs, skin sealed to bone like shadow pulled thin. Antlers crowned his head like an afterthought, and he ducked around low branches more than necessary, already half-expecting to snag them. Red eyes wandered, curious but distant, while dry leaves crunched far too loudly beneath his hooves. But he wasn’t watching where he stepped.

Snap!

The sound cracked sharply beneath his hoof.

Before he could process it, the meadow answered with a disgruntled squeal-snort erupting straight up from the ground. Pollux startled so hard his legs tangled for half a step, long limbs scrambling awkwardly before he froze in place. His head snapped down in alarm. Red eyes widened, and lowering to find that beneath himor quite frankly around his own hoof, was a nest. Carefully crafted. Bunches of foliage and slender sticks intricately woven together, layered with down and leaves that had clearly taken time and care to arrange. And now it was crushed, scattered, unmistakably ruined. 

And then he saw her, a flurry of disgruntled wings, a pegasus with a blazing halo who was glaring up at him. “Oh!” The sound slipped out of Pollux before he could stop it, wrong and warped by his own vocal cords, echoing faintly as if another voice had tried to say it with him. He visibly winced at the sound, ears flattening as his posture folded inward.

“I... I’m... I’m sorry,” he rushed, tripping over the words. His head dipped too fast, antlers lowering in a hurried, clumsy bow. “I didn’t see it. I really didn’t. I wasn’t looking...I mean, I was, just not down...” He stopped himself, clearly aware he was only making it worse. Carefully, painfully carefully, Pollux eased his hoof back, long legs folding at awkward angles as he tried to make himself smaller without entirely knowing how. Leaves slid off his hide and caught along the sharp lines of his ribs. When he spoke again, his lips pulled tight, unintentionally flashing the long canine teeth at the corners of his mouth. He froze, then shut his mouth immediately and dipped his head again instead, choosing silence over baring them at her.

“The wind’s been strange today,” he tried again, quieter. “It throws the scent of things all over the meadow. I thought this patch was empty.” A gust stirred the feathers and leaves around the ruined nest, tracing the ridges of his frame beneath his hide. Pollux shifted his weight, clearly uncertain where to put himself, gaze dropping to the ground rather than her blazing halo and glare.

“I can leave,” he added quickly. “Right now. I will. I don’t want to crowd you, or..or loom, or anything.” 

@Lillia
OOC: he's so awkward eeeek, and I love him