Skan woke to a pale grey darkness. Pre-dawn was coming in through the open shutters, along with a breeze that smelled of early bread, phlox, and the cold high winds that flew just beyond the borders of Heaven's Bow. He woke, but he didn't move, didn't stretch his wings or legs, didn't rise and rouse his feathers. In the crook of one wing, nestled up warm against his side, like the memory of nestlings, Viktor was sleeping.

His head bobbed with every breath, and Skan could feel his mind turning lazily over itself, the night's dreams wending their ways through him like affectionate cats. It would be a shame to disturb him, whatever the hour, and now...

...Well, it was no crime to sleep in, once in a while. And true, it was pleasant to lie this way, warm along one side, with the cool freshness of the morning against his nares, and to watch the world outside slowly wake to the day. Lights flickered on far below, and the sky grew brighter by increments, and airships began their first forays, trundling with their beetle-like sway out into the air, or back again. He could hear, with his ears pricked up, the sound of a cheerful exchange, somewhere out on the streets above, the words indistinct, but the laughter evident.

It was going to be good day. And best of all, he was beginning it with a friend.