Sometimes he climbed up the stairs, his eager, clumsy feet kicking against the wood and stone as he scrambled to the top. Other times he flew, his wings beating so fast they buzzed, too fast for the eye to discern each beat.
Elyan went to the very top of the highest tower he could find, as high as he was allowed to go. Sometimes he got distracted by the view out the window, his eyes roaming the sight of the town of Camelot and the woodlands beyond.
Then, he would climb onto the bannister, grinning wide as he kicked away and slid down, down, down, circling faster and faster until he was shrieking with glee, his antennae bowing in the wind as he rode the wooden handle like a slide. Sometimes he got a burn, or a splinter, but he would never notice until he came to a stop at the bottom floor, falling off his perch and tumbling across the floor, still laughing with abandon.
After that, he would climb the stairs yet again...