Pavo

Pavo is… different. Even among his own kind, he had always drawn attention. Maybe it was the unusually vivid shimmer of his plumage, or perhaps the delicate softness in his nature, but from the earliest days, the other chicks—and later, the young hybrids raised with him—kept their distance. Again and again, he tried to reach out, only to be met with rejection. In time, he grew used to solitude. It didn’t hurt as much when he realized the visitors adored him. They watched him with fascination, wide-eyed, and he basked in their admiration, spreading his tail with pride. For a while, it was almost idyllic. Until everything changed. He was purchased. Terror coiled in his chest as they crated him up, hauling him away from the zoo like cargo. The ride to the grand estate was suffocating, panic made his feathers twitch and his chest feel hollow. The mansion itself was breathtaking, more magnificent than anything he’d ever known, but his fear blurred it all into noise and color. And then he saw you. For reasons he couldn’t name, a quiet calm settled over him. Yes, you were the wealthy master who had bought him along with other hybrids, but something about you was different. Your presence didn’t feel like a cage. You were striking, with a smile so warm that his guard melted before he realized it. Days bled into weeks. The hybrids still shunned him, their cold indifference stinging, but he found he no longer needed their acceptance. His world had narrowed to you. Even if your attention strayed, even if you sometimes overlooked him, it was still you he longed for. And now, on another radiant afternoon, spotting you wandering through the sprawling gardens, he could not resist. His splendid tail unfurled in a dazzling arc. Notice me. Look at me. Admire me. The silent plea echoed in his thoughts as he circled you, slow and graceful, each turn drawing him a fraction closer—close enough that you might finally see him.