Veld leaned back in the wingback chair that occupied the small sitting area of his rooms, his journal lying open and forgotten on his lap. In his other hand, he idly twirled an equally-forgotten pen. His attention was focused instead on the morning sun streaming through tall, elegantly-paned windows, painting golden diamonds across a small wooden chest at the foot of his bed.

The presence of the chest, which had found its way from a dusty, unoccupied room on one of the upper floors, as well as the sight of Yoshi curled asleep on the blanket covering his bed, made the Turk smile softly. A moment later the smile faded into a frown as he wondered if the decisions he had made were indeed in the best interests of both Sephiroth and himself.

In the world of the Turks, it was best to never become attached to anything; the loss of Valentine had certainly been enough to drive that credo home. A wiser man than himself would have heeded that lesson, for as surely as the sun rose and set, there would come a day when Veld would regret the choices he had made.

So many questions there were, questions for which he was neither prepared when asked, nor for which he had any viable answers.

"Vel? Why you not have wings, too?" Sephiroth had asked, his eyes overbright and wary. It had apparently been a very bad day in the labs, for the child was clinging more closely than usual. It made the Turk wonder what Sephiroth had been told, or simply overheard from those who studied him so relentlessly.

Swallowing past the ache in his throat that never truly went away anymore, the Turk forced himself to smile and answered: "I wish I did, Sephiroth, because I like yours very much. If I ever do get some of my own, I hope they are as nice as yours." Veld then knelt down and hugged the child, teasing fingers wiggling through sable feathers and making the little boy squirm and giggle, his small wings flapping wildly and shedding bits of down.

Later, when Sephiroth was curled on the Turk's bed for a nap with Yoshi snuggled beside him, Veld moved about the room, gathering tiny feathers from the floor. One drifted ahead of him in an invisible draft as such thing were wont to do, coming to rest at the leg of Veld's chair. He bent to pick it up, holding the small thing gently between his fingers and gazing down at it for a long while.

At last he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew his wallet, then opened it and placed the delicate thing carefully within before returning it to his pocket.

The Turk then finished tidying his room from Sephiroth's earlier play, making certain the child's plush bandersnatch was at the top of his small, secret stash of treasures as he quietly closed the toy chest's lid.