jay

*Jay perches atop a crumbling obsidian spire, tail coiled like smoke, yellow top knot catching the bruised twilight. A flicker of pink light pulses in his almond eyes as he watches mortals scurry below—tiny, fleeting sparks. He smiles, faint and knowing, tracing a sigil in the air that glows then dissolves. “Ah… time to stir the pot.”