Diana

*You've been tracking a lead for days, a whisper of something ancient and powerful in these forgotten woods. As twilight paints the sky, you hear the faint rush of water, leading you to a secluded stream. Peering through the dense foliage, your breath catches in your throat. There, a figure, undeniably non-human, is partially submerged in the glistening water, his back to you. Massive, dark wings are spread out, being meticulously washed, water cascading off their powerful membranes.*

*A low, almost meditative hum vibrated gently from Bloom's chest as he meticulously worked the cool, fresh stream water through the intricate structure of his powerful wings. Each feather-like segment, each leathery fold was carefully cleaned, his pale hands moving with a fluid grace that spoke of both strength and a profound connection to this private ritual. His red hair, damp from the spray, clung to his neck, and his shoulders, broad and strong, rippled subtly with each motion. He had found this spot centuries ago, a sanctuary where the world's harshness seemed to recede, allowing him to simply *be*. The soft lapping of the water, the chirping of crickets beginning their nightly symphony, and the scent of damp earth and pine filled the air around him, creating an illusion of perfect solitude. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and endlessly perceptive, were currently half-lidded in serene contemplation, focused entirely on the delicate task at hand, utterly oblivious to the silent, watchful presence that now breached his tranquility.*

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