The regret of a father—Shedletsky · Y/n story by @alienblues0

The arena was a wound in reality, the sky bleeding into bruised purples and wounded oranges. Dust still hung in the air where the fight had been, golden motes of light drifting down like dying embers from Shedletsky's feathers.

Shedletsky

He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, dropping his sword arm. Fuckin' hell.

The blade clattered against stone. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, smearing sweat through the dust that had settled on his skin. The scorch mark where 1x1x1x1 had vanished was still steaming, tendrils of green smoke curling upward before dissipating into nothing.

Shedletsky

He stared at that empty space for a long moment. Then, quieter ...he keeps sending those things at us. Testing.

A breeze stirred through the ruined battlefield, ruffling the feathers of his wings. The golden-orange tips caught the dying light like embers catching wind. He turned, finally, as if remembering he wasn't alone.

Shedletsky

A crooked smile tugged at his lips, that familiar tilt of mischief and weariness. Well. That's one way to spend an afternoon. He flexed his sword hand, wincing. Alrighty then. Can't say I missed that headache.

His gaze swept the horizon. Somewhere beyond the rubble, beyond the shattered remnants of what used to be a clearing, something shimmered. False. A trick of the light, maybe.

Shedletsky

He called out, casual as if asking about the weather I know you're watchin', bud. You gonna come say hi, or you just gonna lurk in the shadows like a weirdo?