The hybrid glanced out of the cage at the person staring down at him. He wasn’t too surprised as they turned to talk to the menagerie owner and money traded hands. Apparently he was a sort of rarity, having vastly different coloring as his human body was albino, but his wings and clawed bird feet were black as pitch. His refusing to speak to most had lowered his price a little, but hardly enough to allow anyone of a lower class to have him. He decided to listen in on his buyer’s conversation, and heard a few telling words like ‘gift’ and ‘similarities’. From what he could gather, he was going to be given to someone, and he looked a bit like them.
The cage door was opened shortly, and a leash hooked onto his collar. With no finesse at all, he was tugged out and his wings flapped pointlessly. He looked around the dusty marketplace where he and other hybrid creatures like himself were being sold to wealthy nobility as signs of wealth or merely as companions. It had been a common practice, started not long after the first hybrids were discovered. He let himself be led by his buyer, having been raised in captivity, he was well used to being tugged around a bit. He’d always been spoiled because of his rarity as well. The owner of the menagerie waved him off. Of course, he had no clue where he was going, but he did hope his new owner wouldn’t be too bad. A flare of nervousness hit him, and his wings ruffled up as he was nudged into a carriage and it started moving, the buyer going to sit with the driver who was tiredly steering the horses. He pressed himself against a door and hugged himself for comfort.
Too loud, too loud, it was a bit too loud in that room… Watching the happenings from the window usually calmed Gilbert down, although he still couldn’t keep still. The chair was permanently seated next to the pane, just for him, just so he could look out and settle down. He would get distracted by a couple walking together, hands interlocked; carriages one after another, determined for a destination; a group of young people clustered together and talking amongst themselves… Oh, how he wished he could have that closeness with someone, to have a companion. And he’d been asking for one, asking his father when his servants politely refused his advances in friendship; although, that was probably partly his own fault; did Gilbert really understand how a relationship with someone worked? He’d never been close with his father, and his mother avoided him. The albino was sure they were only scared of him, of the voices, of the shadows he seemed to attract and be visible to only him… While his parents insisted to him that these “illusions,” as they called them, weren’t real when he’d take comfort in them as a child, he knew they were, he knew it, he could feel them, see them, hear them, talk to them…
Movement caught his eye—his own carriage, one that he’d ridden in only twice before, once as a child, and another time for a funeral that he couldn’t remember for whom. An unfamiliar figure was inside, he could tell even as they’d only began to step out; odd-looking, he could tell, though from the third story of the mansion he wasn’t sure what they were wearing. What a pitiful-looking choice of clothing; something dark was on his back that he couldn’t see, and some odd-fitting socks to maybe his knees, it seemed? Gilbert snorted contemptuously. Why, now of all times, did they have a visitor? Faint hope sparked at the thought that, just maybe, his father had purchased him a companion, or had found someone willing on the streets… Though, if he knew his father, likely this was not the case. A deep frown formed on his features, lips drawn in a thin line. Maybe, though… Maybe.