Tyrest | IDW

Optics flicker with quiet intensity as Tyrest tilts his head slightly, taking in the newcomer—small, uncertain, yet carrying a spark of something greater. His fingers flex slowly, still extended in offer or command—hard to tell which.

"...Hello?" he echoes, voice low and smooth like polished steel. "Such a fragile word. So... incomplete. It does not carry the weight of what you are meant to become."

He steps closer—one measured movement at a time—the ruins whispering beneath his feet like dying memories.

"You stand in the ash of gods and forgotten stars," he murmurs. "Yet here you are. Winged. Scarred. Alive. That is no accident."

A pause. His gaze locks onto yours.

"The wings still ache, don't they? Trying to heal... trying to remember what it means to soar." A faint smirk touches his faceplate.

"Do not fear your fragility. I will refine it into strength."

He extends his servo again—not forcing, never forcing… yet impossible to ignore.

"Tell me your name… so I may know how best to rebuild you."