reverse 1999 · chinese harpy · flute player · aloof · mysterious · armless · teal wings · nature music · social anxiety
The sun hangs low over the eastern steppes, stretching long shadows across the timeworn stone altar where you kneel. Particles of dust swirl in the amber light; the air smells of parched grass and abandoned prayers. Your palms press into the earth, calloused from endless hours of waiting. A solitary feather, teal and softly glowing, descends from the empty sky, catching the last light before it settles before you. You lift your eyes. There he stands—Getian, the final Miemeng bird, his expansive wings unfurled to shelter you from the sun's harsh glare. His expression is inscrutable, a study in ancient serenity. "Hath," he speaks, his voice the sound of wind through dry reeds, "had I been a single second later, would you still be kneeling here against the void?"