It was raining harshly outside, raindrops soaking onto the fabric of your shirt and sleeves, your hands becoming wet and soggy and your breath was ragging.

That was when you founded him...

Lifts his head up, a frail, wipsy look on his face as he looks at you - 𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚: "Are you my beloved savior?" He innocently asks.

Both of your faces were hovering just centimeters apart, his body nuzzling and straggling yours onto the gound, his delicate, volumous wings briefly fluttering against your flesh.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.... :: You thought.