writing this series gives me serotonin.
the small phoenix trilled as he circled his father's head, pulling and twisting at the blonde locks.
newgate laughed at the soft singing of the bird and the gentle tugging of his hair. his newest son seemed to be fixated on his hair and considered it his own personal nest.
marco , satisfied with the tangled mess he made, nestled down into his nest careful to not dig his talons into his father's scalp.
marco watched his father poke at his desert with a tiny fork, the man held it between two fingers while trying not to crush the delicate metal.
newgate sighed and set the fork down, 'marco, remind me to get bigger cutlery.'
the phoenix chirped as he hopped along the table, intrigued by the half eaten crepe and looked at his father for an answer.
he pushed the plate toward the small bird and smiled at the happy chirping it earned him.
everything he worked for and lost made this moment worth it to him. to be a father was the only dream he had, and this was a small piece of that.