"Old Bastian, I need to talk to you," Aerin bowed respectfully at the entrance of a Dream Pavilion. He didn't need to be so polite, but Old Bastian was still his elder. That said, the fact he called him Old Bastian at all went to show how close their relationship was.
"Come in, come in," an aged but cheery voice came from the inside.
Aerin smiled a hint bitterly and then entered.
"How many times do I have to tell you there's no need for such formalities, little prince? You've already done more for the Dwarven Race than I've done in my entire lifetime. If anything, I should be bowing to you."
An aged Sparrow with a head of white hair and a face full of wrinkles beckoned Aerin forward, urging him to sit on the prayer may by his side.
The older Sparrows grew, the larger their wings became. In fact, some of them even showed mutations that allowed them to grow multiple.
