Adelric watches the night phoenix as he tries to wrap his lips around his name, a name too macabre for the child who has eyes yet full of life. Erebos. But the half-child is less concerned with the child's name, and rather more interested in the fact that he has been answered and there has been no hint of malice or disgust. He has been gifted with a word seemingly so simple, so little, that to the passerby it may not seem very important; however, to the half-child it is an endowment that almost makes him feel adequate. A smile graces his face and he can't help but wonder if this is what it is like to feel whole. It does not even occur to him that Erebos may not be the shining herald of wholeness, that his stutter over his name may indicate that the night phoenix has his own downfalls and struggles. No, the half-child is more interested in studying his new companion- his new friend, even?- to see how he can grow and mold himself into something more than just the child with no father.

But can young Adelric live his life trying to make himself more whole than what he is? Can he live a fulfilling life if he is so worried about what parts of him make him unfulfilled? The child does not think these things, does not ponder them, his mind too young to dance through the intricate philosophical dilemma offered by the idea. But with his father mysteriously disappeared, one of his mothers busy with his twin and his other mother secluded to take care of her own newborn, the boy has not told anyone how he feels and, as a child, would not have the words anyways. So he struggles through life already. But is this... is this what friends are for? He looks again to the night phoenix and wonders to what extent he can be trusted, to what extent he will be a confidant instead of just an acquaintance.

But now his attention is diverted, pulled in a new direction, and the child can't help but look to the sky. Horses with wings? Heterochromic eyes search the blue sky, daring to believe this mysterious tale of which he has heard nothing before. Indeed, if it is a tale, the half-child has been entirely duped and instantly his mind has conjured wondrous images of himself twisting through the air, doing acrobatics high above the ground, feeling free from the constraints of gravity. “My mothers didn't tell me about horses with wings,” he responds, eyes still trained on the sky. Eventually, he returns his gaze to the night phoenix but he does not know how to answer. He has reached a cross roads where one road points to yes and one leads to no and, if these roads remain diverged past the horizon, he is not sure which answer is the right one in order to keep Erebos in his life. So, he hedges. “Would you?” And though he knows he lies, though he knows instantly that he would have wings if given the choice, he lets the night phoenix decide for him.