Rowan blinked the haze from his eyes as the Creature adjusted its form yet again. A pair of tall, black boots appeared on its legs, complete with an intricate crisscross of laces and buckles up to the knee. Wren's boots.
Sure. That made sense.
The thing wasn't able to figure out how many teeth could fit in a mouth before it just looked absurd, but it captured Wren's footwear with expert precision. Rowan supposed at least no one could accuse it of lacking priorities.
As he wondered just how much more ridiculous his father's creation could get, Wren's soul-seed funneled another burst of energy into him as if pleading with him to hold on just a little bit longer. Never able to deny giving Wren exactly what he wanted and frankly quite pissed about the boots, Rowan shoved his exhaustion aside one more time, refusing to concede defeat until his body left him no choice.
