At first, she doesn’t recognize the small, ruffled bird that steps into the palace. It’s no normal bird, Simon is sure of that at least! There are no birds in hell that can come this far without bursting like a maroon, so she flicks her head at it curiously, first.
The caw is… familiar. It pricks at her ear and she flickers it upwards to listen better, but there’s just silence. She realizes it a few seconds after, then bolts out of the throne in an hurry to welcome her dad back.
But he’s still and unmoving. When the demoness picks up the small, fragile form of her parental figure blood seeps through her fingers and she spots the dryed up clumps of plied feathers that she moves gently, hoping to provide him some relief. He’s probably taking a nap, considering his state. He will heal soon, so she takes upon herself to gather the small form in her lap and curl back on the throne, a soft smile on his face.
“Oh, dad… you’re so silly. I was just thinking about you last day. You’re a dork, leaving me all this time. You old geezer…”
She runs a gentle finger over his birdy head, purring gently and looking happy and fulfilled. War is home! She can stop worrying, now. Or being angry. Both.
It takes her a while to feel the soaking in her lap, or the way War’s little bird form has been standing still for a solid 15 minutes without breathing, or moving at all. At this point, she has her wits together enough to wrap him in her long dress, trying to dry the blood.
“Dad…?! What did you do? Who did you fought? What happened?”
She expects him to crack a familiar eyes open and make a joke about beating around a dead horse. Ha. Stupid old man cannot even pop a new joke.
He doesn’t wake up.
“Dad?”
He’s getting colder.
“Dad…?”
It takes her brain a painful whirring to puncture the situation together.
A scream erupts from her throat, and it never stops.
