Watching Heirs Unnaparent

Skyfall (سقوط السماء)

His actions made the eight-o-clock news.

"I hate that" Marinette told herself

They called them "heroic endeavors" for they knew nothing of the way the fight came about, simply the outcome and the apparent rescue of two tellers at a local bank that had been hit by a gang of high-grade thieves who were then thwarted by some mysterious figure who swooped "out of the night" and fended off the criminals. He hadn't given a name but, all across social media, he was already being dubbed a variety of names, anywhere from the Golden Feather to Oriole (neither of which sounded right to him. He was more than just a bird. He was a hippogriff, a creature of mythology and lore. He needed a cooler name than Golden Feather to strike fear into the heart of his enemies).

Tossing his phone onto his bed beside him, he fell facefirst into his pillow with a groan. Sensing they were alone once more, Lorr flew up to hover in front of the boy's face.

"What's wrong?" Ali asked him

"Just Keep Watching" Nicholas smiled at him

What troubles you, Master? he inquired. You appear most distressed.

"I need a name," Nicholas mumbled into the face of his pillow.

Lorr clicked his beak. I was not aware you were lacking one, as I was under the impression that your parents provided you with a very valid one upon your birth.

"No, not that kind of name!" Nicholas exclaimed. "The kind that makes me a superhero! I need a cool alter-ego! Like Tony Stark!"

"I Love Him"

Who's Tony Stark? I don't recognize that name. Is he someone famous in your time?

"No, he's Spider-man, but that's not what's important." Nicholas briefly lifted his gaze as the kwami landed on the top of his bed and settled to peer down at him with blazing hazel eyes. "If I am going to continue being this city's form of savior, then I am going to need to give them something to remember me by. And I just don't think Oriole is going to cut it."

"Tony Stark is Iron Man!, Peter Parker is Spider-Man" Nino whined to Nicholas whom only chuckled

Perhaps you should select a more appropriate name for your specific skillset? Lorr suggested, shaking his head and fluffing his feathers tiredly. The residue of syrup still clung to his talons and he absentmindedly shook it away. Something that speaks to you and makes you different from the rest of the world. What makes you special? Embrace that.

"I wanna see this"

"You're right, Lorr!" Nicholas sat up straighter and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. "I do need to find something that makes me stand out. Hang on a sec." With that, he reached for his backpack, previously thrown carelessly against the wall, and drew out his sketchbook, sliding back to the hippogriff and flipping to a blank page. Lorr leaned over to study his hasty scribbles, occasionally clicking his tongue or ruffling a feather in agreement.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious of his artwork, Nicholas attempted to use his body to shield his sketches of the bird, done throughout the course of the previous days, along with a bunch of sticky notes penned in Arabic (though why he would bother when the bird could just as easily read it in in either language, he didn't know. A nervous habit, he supposed) describing the kwami's various abilities and what little history he knew of the bird's arrival plus where he'd been before (which, by the sound of it, was mainly in South America).