There were so many things to see.

The little bird hadn't figured out flight yet. Maybe for some birds it came quickly and more natural, but not for little Vigdis. They hopped their way along beneath the glowing flora of Polaris; it took hours to find his way, not that he really understood where he was going, or why. The only thing he knew was to follow the light that emanated from the larger shrooms, or the trails of glittering dust that danced like constellations in his path.

Eventually the lights faded and he was left in the dark. He didn't like that. It hadn't occurred to the creature yet that the world worked better with others; he hadn't met any others. So far as he could tell, he was alone and that was fine -- because there was no other way to be.

That is, until he found himself in a short corridor with walls that looked considerably different from the stone-hewn terrain he'd spent the past few days exploring. Enough ambient light from Polaris caught against a shard of the wall and sent it reflecting, refracting, throughout.

Everything was a shade of blue or purple -- and as he hopped up to observe the substance, even peck at it, he saw the distorted red gleam of his own legs reflected back. A patch of bright teal on top of his head. Blackness where his wings were tucked. The bird fluffed up his feathers and pirouetted while he appraised himself.

Every day was still a battle. Charles wondered if things would ever feel as bright and wonderful as they had when he was a child, spending each day carelessly in a little cramped space, only wishing to see the world outside. It was easier, at least, coping with everything now that time had passed. He'd allowed himself to fall into a bit of a monotonous lifestyle that was easy to maintain, if only to let time keep churning, day after day until things didn't feel so unbearable. Having the family around helped, certainly; at least, what was left of it. Charles visited from time to time but sometimes he felt unwelcome there, leading him to wander, astray, and alone, as if he were some broken toy of the Merchant, left to rot, forgotten by all.

The stress of late was showing. His feathers had grown dull and there was an occasional bald spot where he'd stress-plucked. Some were growing back, leaving his coat patchy and uneven, and the growing dirt and grime coating his him look like he'd been pulled from a trash heap. He was looking worse for wear but he sometimes couldn't find it in himself to really do anything about it. Like now, resting atop one of the many crystals in this mirror-hall. He wasn't doing anything to hide - in fact, he actively avoided the shadows and few dark corners of the room, preferring to sleep under the view of the light. He only stirred to the sound of tiny footsteps, blinking and raising his head to look, with only the faintest spark of curiosity, to see who it was coming through.

He watched the young bird for a moment, as it looked at the crystals, pecked at it curiously. Yes, definitely young. Observing himself in the mirror and fluffing proudly. A bat-like ear twitched and a smile curled the corner of his eye. He would have done it, once, looked at himself and liked what he saw. Been amused for a while by the wonders of a mirror. He watched the younger bird for a little while, unaware how brightly his scarf and eyes gleamed, especially against the mirrors that reflected them.

@Vigdis