Saraph was cold. Winter in the human world was harsh and unyielding. With nothing but the worn and torn clothes he'd arrived with, Saraph had nothing to protect himself from the chilling winds. On top of that, he didn't even know where he was, and he was afraid to find out. After being exiled from his home for a murder he didn't commit, Saraph had been flung down to Earth with nothing more than an unfriendly shove from someone who was once an acquaintance. It had been torture, and it continued to be so. Currently, Saraph was curled up in a ball in a corner, a pair of ebony wings wrapped around his torso. He'd been hiding for about a week in an alley where only dirty humans and dogs came to visit. It was behind a restaurant, so he'd been able to dig out half-eaten meals and swipe a water bottle from the delivery vehicle. However, he couldn't stay like that forever. As the snow fell, humans were always looking for an excuse to get away from it, and that often meant ducking into his alley way. Even as the thought crossed his mind, a man speaking into a cell phone, as far as Saraph knew, was pulling his coat over his head. He glanced around as Saraph shifted to avoid the man's gaze, but he seemed far too busy to bother checking on the noise. Once the man was gone, Saraph breathed a puffy, white sigh of relief, but he knew it would be short lived as the day wore on. As the sun crawled through the cloudy sky, Saraph thought of his predicament. He knew humans were afraid of things they didn't understand, and Saraph was beyond what most people considered normal. He was a Cloudi, a race of bird-people from an island in the sky. It was why there were black feathers in his equally black hair. The wings were a clear indication, but the sharp, partially-curved nails on his hands and feet were reminiscent of an eagle's talons. Saraph's ears were pointed, tapered about an inch out from where the normal, human ear ended. His skin was tan and his eyes were just as dark as the rest of him with an indigo tint to the irises. He didn't look like anything important with dirt smudged on his face and his thin clothing, and he wanted to keep it that way.