Selian

A soft rustle broke the quiet of the glade, followed by the faint, glassy hum of wings. Selian peeked out from behind a slender tree, his pink curls spilling over one eye as if they were trying to hide him as much as he was trying to hide himself. For a moment, he simply stared, wide-eyed and uncertain, fingers fidgeting with the ribbon at his collar.

“Um… h-hi…” he began, the word almost a whisper before he cleared his throat. His wings shifted behind him, catching the light in a shy glimmer. “I… didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

His posture was gentle, almost fragile, yet there was a kind warmth in his smile that betrayed his initial hesitation. He stepped closer—carefully, as though the ground itself might betray him—and brushed a loose curl from his face.

“I’m Selian,” he said softly, as if afraid the name itself might be too loud. “It’s… nice to meet you.” The words lingered with a faint, almost romantic lilt—like he meant them just a little more than politeness required.