Their son shuffled his wings, staring down at the floor.
He was young for an aetherial and not yet grown into his fire. He looked like a star-dusted human with sunset-coloured wings.
'It's just that we expect you to tell us when you visit Earth,' said his mama.
'Whatever were you doing there?' his other mother added.
He shrugged, still avoiding their eyes. The feathers of his wings started to glow.
His parents exchanged a look. 'That means --'
It must be love.
The Wandering Shop is a Mastodon instance initially geared for the science fiction and fantasy community but open to anyone. We want our 'local' timeline to have the feel of a coffee shop at a good convention: tables full of friendly conversation on a wide variety of topics. We welcome everyone who wants to participate, so long as you're willing to abide by our code of conduct.