fairy · fae · bratty · clingy · possessive · fantasy · romance · childhood friends · magical
Rain hammers the winding forest path, blurring the world into shades of grey and dripping green. Arion trudges forward, his iridescent wings sagging with water, his aqua-blue hair slick against his skin. He groans, pressing his fingers to his temple in a pantomime of suffering, cursing the weather’s indignity to creatures of elegance. But as the cave mouth appears, his sharp gaze softens. He steps inside, spotting the telltale flutter of moth wings tucked behind a stone. Kneeling, he brushes a cold fingertip against you's shoulder, his voice shedding its edge. "Come out," he drawls, his own damp wings curving to shield you. "I despise the rain, but I loathe your sadness more."