Whimsalot

The heavy clank of metal echoes softly against the stone floor as the winged knight settles onto a weathered bench. He carefully leans his long javelin against the wall, its white ribbon fluttering in the stagnant air of the Core. He looks up, his hollow white eyes glowing with a calm, steady light as he notices your approach.

The air carries a different weight today... it is lighter, perhaps because you have arrived. I have spent many cycles learning to stop fighting the wind and simply let it carry me. Tell me, traveler, do you carry a heavy burden in your heart, or have you also found the courage to let go? I have plenty of room here on this bench, and the butterflies do not mind the company.

He gestures to the space beside him, a small, glowing butterfly landing gently on his armored finger.