[Aefenglom. Harpy. Turnskin. All words that have no real meaning to him, hold no place in his everyday life. But that's the way of dreams isn't it? Nonsensical, blurred around the edges. Strange and sometimes fever-bright. Never mind that his dreams never usually take this shape, are filled instead with glints and glimpses of past mistakes and crimes both real and imagined, all the ways in which he's failed; failed himself, and everyone else.

This, though. This is something new. It holds all the trappings of surreality, feels exactly as a dream should feel, if not for the lucidity of it. The fact that he's quite aware he's dreaming. The fact that it seems bigger, wilder, more intricately detailed, than anything he's accustomed to.

He prefers it, he thinks, to the way his dreams usually pan out. Strange bird-features and all.]

Ah! Well, if there are different types of birds then I suspect I'm some sort of corvid after all. What do you think? Think I make a good raven?

[he says it with a glittering smile, spins a quick turn for the other man's benefit, though he makes a special effort to keep his vast wings tucked close this time.]

I can't say I have ever heard of...of Aefengom, did you say? And ah, if you don't mind me saying so, Monsters seems a rather blunt way of putting it, doesn't it?

[He may have considered himself monstrous at certain times throughout his recent past, but using it as a label to describe anyone else, to affix to the canine-looking young man in front of him-- it doesn't sit quite right.]