Galen Hall Character Analysis

Patiently waiting on a perch, a hunter amongst the endless plain of prey, he awaits the arrival of his mother, eagerly looking forward to the battle to come. In moments such as this, his father's warrior spirit shines above the caution and wiseness taken from the mother. Even without being born to the two, fate always seeks a way to ensure that this section of the cycle comes to pass.

For countless lives, he has reached this age whilst they had reached the exact same. Amusingly, they have always encountered the same level of doubt towards each other. He has witnessed the conflict for thousands of years, each taking place in a slightly different setting.

From another standpoint, Galen Hall is a muscular male for his adolescent age, being moulded
into the toned form of his father, although slimmer. Inheriting the eyes of his mother, but the personality of the father, he truly is a mix and match of genes. Imagine the surprise on his 'biological' parents faces when he was born appearing nothing like them.

Wearing Nth metal armour all around him, it's metallic black covering the entirety of his body excluding the head, it shapes around his muscles, forcing them to stand out on his body. His wings are coated in the metal, giving it a shiny black layer. However, appearance is nothing to him. Intimidation is the technique of persuasion that he prefers.

"Don't get too excited. Underestimate nobody."

The gentle voice comes from his mother, who glides down onto the perch to his right, adopting a similar, predatory position to him. "Before you ask, your father looks the same way before fighting: eyes ahead, full of expectation."

"You're forgetting that this is a good thing. Or so father says, in any case." he monotonously replies, without humour.

"Being confident is a great way to win a battle; being too confident is a sure way of losing a battle... badly." his mother chastises him, usual lecturing tone on display. "Come on, our gangsters are taking off without us." with that, she leaps off the building, wings asunder and catching the night wind.

Normally, his training sessions are a combination of sparring and teachings, both with his father and mother.
So, he rarely uses his skills to deal with actual threats. This is less than ideal for an experienced combatant such as himself, and he cannot understand why someone with thousands of years of experience has to approach the world slowly, instead of diving in headfirst.

Does this mean that they do not trust him, or are they concerned for his wellbeing and want to ensure his survival? Either way, it doesn't matter to him. If he dies, the cycle starts anew, so is there a point to worrying? This is a question he has struggled with for a long time.

Following his mentor and mother, he extends his wings and falls of the perch, dive-bombing towards the ground. Before slamming into the ground, he pushes his body up, utilising the updraft to soar higher and reach the same altitude as his mother did.

"You still have much to learn. You didn't need to do that." she sternly lectures.

"Does it matter? I have caught up to you, as I originally intended." he shoots back, no malice intended towards
her.

"Tell that to the ground you nearly slammed into." she mutters to herself, but his acute hearing catches it. He chooses to ignore the comment and to carry on with the flight without another sound, desperate to make amends with his mother for an earlier incident.

Accidently, he may have stated that he enjoys the company of his father more, which also may have unsettled Shayera due to her ongoing 'troubles' with her eternal soul mate. According to his father, the main cause of the breakdown in relations is a man named John Stewart. Pity, really.

Apart from that, the usual disagreements between the two on the subject of the young man himself forms a divide between them, separating the destined couple for the incalculable time. He wishes that fate would be kinder and stopped throwing such curiosities and obstacles in their path. However, the powers that be do what they want, when they want; screwing with all of their lives again and again.

"It appears that our prey are talking, for some reason." he points out, looking down at the conspicuous meeting forming below with his bird-like eyes.
Curiously, the criminals they first followed have stopped down a large alley- filled with smaller back alleys attached to the sides- apparently meeting up with fellow gangsters for some amount of villainy. From this altitude, even his enhanced hearing cannot pick up the majority of the conversation, only when people raise their voices can it be heard in snippets.

"Relax, Galen. Our advantage is growing shorter with every man added to the equation." his mother sharply commands, somehow detecting the anxiety that he is experiencing. His warrior instincts are screaming to forsake all tactics and swoop down there, vying with his intelligent side for control over his body. This is a phenomena that he has felt several times already in this particular life. Of all the perks that being re-incarnated brings, this is definitely not one of the beneficial side effects, especially when on the verge of a
fight.