Melchior choked—actually choked—and his chair screeched as he nearly toppled off it.
"He has a—? How—? Is that possible?!"
His wide eyes darted to the little birdy in question, the one clearly, unmistakably male… yet apparently harboring a womb. His jaw tightened. Is Rosencraft that insane? As a naturalist, Melchior couldn't wrap his head around it.
Sylene flinched at his reaction. His shoulders curled in, his fingers nervously gripping the edge of his clothes—covering his lower belly like he could hide that part, afraid he'd disappointed the vampire general with yet another oddity in his body.
Catching that, Melchior inhaled sharply, forcing his expression to settle. His posture straightened, deliberately gentling his gaze so he wouldn't startle the poor little bird any further.
