|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 1:49 pm
 Pale green eyes fixed on something no other Sentinel could see, Verdigris traced intricate s-curves through the trees, banking and sweeping with little flourishes of wings and tail that some amorous young males would have killed to learn. So engrossed was he in his nightly practice, he wasn't even bothering to look where he was going at all. Mind fixed on only the intricate coordination of his flight muscles and the patterns he was flying, it would never occur to him in this state to call out or announce his presence.
Then again, there were few Sentinels in the Deep Woods who didn't recognize the slim, foxy Wildtype. Famous in his own right, Gris tended to take advantage of that when he ended up in minor scuffles for intruding. Those had grown rarer and rarer as his neighbors began to finally realize he meant no true incursion, and generally, he stayed out of trouble.
Then again, his typical haunts were much more concentrated in the center and to the southeast of the Deep Woods. It was rare that he found himself this far west, but he had wanted a change of scenery tonight, something to challenge himself. He was looking specifically for a downed tree or an old abandoned platform, anything he could appropriate for the evening.
Catching an updraft, he rode it to the underbelly of the Canopy before gently spiraling down, taking inventory of the forest here. Mostly oak, it seemed. Gris liked the old oaks; their presence tended to choke out the more irritating undergrowth and gave him both vertical and horizontal room to perform. And somehow, it never occurred to him that the area could be occupied. The only wildlife he had noted thus far were some mice. Couldn't have been mus, that was certain. Not dyed, too small. Obviously not owned.
On occasion, subconscious logic blocks out rational thought, and that always tends to end badly.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 6:13 pm
“Soldiers! Form a rank!”
As the white-winged creatures obediently landed in a line on the branch, the Wildtype folded his wings and paced along in front of them. He fixed each one with an appraising glare, always squinting through his left eye. He was a rugged bird, molded into the toughened General he was by years of hardship and battle.
Far below, the common beasts milled about, content in their mindlessness. The General had plans for them. Great plans. Terrible plans. He gave orders to his troops, who, at his command, left their perches and wheeled toward the Ground.
With their sharp teeth, beating wings, and piercing cries, the white soldiers frightened the mass of rodents into a stampede. With skill that only the General could have taught them, they swooped and dove in perfect synchronization, channeling the four-legged beasts into a groove between the great roots of the old oak. At the end of this wooden canyon was a cage made of tied sapling bars. With squeaks of terror, the rodents ran through its opening and found themselves trapped. As one of the white-wings slapped the trigger that made the door close, the General himself flew down and took the cage in his talons, carrying it back to the main branch.
He was, first and foremost, a seasoned fighter, but at times diplomacy was the best course of action. He knew this offering would appease the neighboring family of warriors, and keep them from attacking his home.
If only life could be so glorious. But it couldn't be. Not for a keeper, anyway. With a wistful sigh, Cliffside called his chirop herders back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 2:55 pm
A flash of white in the not-far distance caught Verdigris quite by surprise, and the bard pulled up short, catching a branch with uncharacteristic gracelessness and quickly smoothing ruffled feathers, looking around as if he had meant to make such a sudden landing. Preening his wings, he followed the motion again. Little white flashes all around, dodging, flitting, diving...
Chirops. Several of them. Which meant that he was in someone's territory. Ah...this was, well...a bit ungood. Laying his eartufts back, he followed their intricate dance until someone called them back. The voice came from...ah...there. Swiveling his head before the rest of his body, Gris watched eagerly for a bit before moving closer to it. The chirops were interesting, and very well-trained...and he wanted to know what it was that they were doing. And so he went to investigate.
After a moment, he realized he still hadn't announced his presence, and gave a short, booming hoot.
"Sorry for invading, but I've noticed your chirops!" he called out cheerily, arcing lazily around a tree and coming into view of the oak.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 05, 2008 3:49 pm
Allowing himself a bit more time for fantasizing, Cliffside puffed up his chest and strutted along the main branch of his home tree. General Cliffside: the brave, the true, and the dutiful. Loved by his own, and feared by his enemies. He’d had this imaginary persona since he was a bitty little fledgling, and it still hadn’t lost it’s ch—HOLY NOCTUS AND HIS BIG, FEATHERED BUTT.
The keeper literally fell off the branch as a loud, unexpected call sounded somewhere behind him. It had been more a guilty reaction than one of fear; he didn’t exactly want anyone to know that he secretly acted out fantasies of being an Elite. He coasted to the nearest branch and sat there, hurriedly preening his fluffed feathers back into place. He still looked partially disheveled when the visitor came into his sights, but he made a heroic effort to be nonchalant about it. He sort of had to, when the visitor turned out to be a pretty Wildtype female. She was probably the prettiest one he’d ever seen, with bright green eyes, rich, honey-colored feathers, and beautiful imping on her tufts and tail. She was so graceful in flight that his beak sort of hung open. Just a little. He was very good at flying, but this lady made him look like a complete lunk.
He opened his beak wider to greet her, but nothing came out. That was embarrassing. He tried again and managed a manly, “Uh… Hi there.”
That ought to impress her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 10:16 am
The other Sentinel's surprise amused Gris, who kept from laughing but couldn't wipe the smile off his beak. Landing a respectful distance away and putting his eartufts back in slight apology, he tilted his head and inspected the apparent owner of the chirops. A rather handsome Wildtype male, a bit younger than him, undyed...Gris smiled. He liked meeting Sentinels who looked lovely without dye. It was pleasant. Inclining his head at the other Sentinel's somewhat surprised look, he smiled warmly (and no longer in amusement).
"Good evening and good hunting," he said lightly, looking around at the tree. He was beginning to suspect that he had seen this Sentinel before, and a glance at the cages helped him place the face. Keeper of some nature, mus definitely. Always well-supplied with culls for the platform. So he was of reasonably good standing. Gris liked that. Hardworking Sentinels made him feel better about his decision to entertain and not feed or educate the Clan.
"I couldn't help but notice your chirops. They're good," he said, preening a wing. "Well-trained. Did you teach them yourself?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2008 8:54 pm
Cliff’s chest feathers fluffed faintly with pride at the compliment. “Mostly,” he admitted, finding that coherent words were yet to come easily. It wasn’t every day he met a female so pretty as this one. He was immensely curious about her, too. Not many had such lovely decorations.
And so, in a very short time, he forgot that she had even asked the question about his chirops and began racking his brain for a way to compliment her.
“So, uh…” Yeah. Those pesky words were still far and few between. The keeper cleared his throat to stall while he pieced together a simple sentence. “You’re a bard, right?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 8:57 am
"You've done well with them," Gris answered pleasantly, leaning his head down to nibble one of his talons while he waited for the Keeper to formulate a reply. Perhaps he was flustered because Gris had invaded his territory and was now being his usually bubbly self. It tended to disconcert other Sentinels, who prepared for invaders only to find a rather absentminded, extremely friendly Skydancer in their place.
And now the question finally made its way out. Gris had been watching one of the nearest chirops when Cliff spoke, and his eartufts flicked first, before he turned his head and regarded Cliff with laughing green eyes. "Bard, yes. Bit of a specialist, really." Dipping his head and then the rest of his body in a flourishing bow, He glanced back up at Cliffside. "Verdigris, Skydancer, at your service." Straightening up, he rustled his feathers back into place and settled down again.
"I can see you're a Keeper," he went on in his most genial tone, "but I'm afraid I don't know any more than that. Mus, or chirops, or both?" Both would have been unusual. Gris then realized he was lacking one of the most important bits of information, and fluffed in slight embarrassment. "And your name, of course. Silly me, forgetting to ask the most important part."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 10:59 am
A Skydancer. The news made the keeper feel a little short of breath. Her name was unusual, but who cared about names?
As the conversation was turned back to himself, Cliff suffered another momentary speech failure. "I... uh... both? Er, that is to say..." He shut himself up to think again, feathers sleeking with the effort. "Mus. I breed them. There's a lot."
Then, as if that last reply wasn't hard enough, the Skydancer went on to ask for a name. His name. The keeper was mortified when he realized that he couldn't even remember it! He sleeked again and then puffed up suddenly, blurting out the name the moment it came to mind. "Cliffsod. I'm Cliffsod and I eat your events." No, wait. That was wrong. He tried again. "Feed your events." Better, but not quite right. Once more. "I bring dead things to your events."
It wasn't his usual self-promotion, but it was pretty darn close.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 8:35 pm
When Cliff tried and failed numerous times, charmingly, to introduce himself and explain the nature of his particular profession, Gris smiled hugely and realized exactly what he was dealing with. He thought perhaps he had simply flustered the Keeper by intruding, but now he realized that he had flustered him with...himself. Oh, that was just darling! And he was so handsome, too!
Gris liked knowing he was still winning enough for those a few years younger than he. Fluffing his feathers comfortably, he gave Cliff a winning grin and a quick wink. The game had presented itself, and by Noctus, Gris was certainly going to play if he was given an opportunity! Quickly preening down his fluffed feathers, he quickly formulated a response to Cliff's...ah...babbling.
"Sounds a brilliant niche for a Keeper," he chirped. "Always someone having a bit of a party, and to serve nice, fat mus..." Nodding to himself, he fanned his tailfeathers and inspected the ground (and mus) below him. "I'm sure you're in high demand, aye?" And, because Cliff had given the opening, Gris couldn't resist altering his cadence somewhat on the words 'high demand,' giving them just enough of a playful lilt to perhaps contribute to innuendo, if the mind was going in the right direction.
And from what he could tell, Cliff's was.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 19, 2008 3:26 pm
"H-high demand?" His voice squeaked a bit in the middle of the stammered words. The wink had nearly knocked him flat, but the innuendo, of course, had gone way over his head. If he'd been in his right mind, yeah, he'd have understood the hint. But not now. At the moment, he could only feel somewhat disappointed that the pretty lady seemed to be interested in his business more than himself. But... that was kind of what people visited him for. Duh.
He gave a slightly morose look to those of his stock that were going about their rodenty lives on the forest floor. "I get a lot of callers, I guess."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 20, 2008 7:58 am
Aw, he was so cute. Gris couldn't help but smile fondly. It was so adorable how flustered the young males got when they were dealing with a pair of flashy wings, and Gris was always glad to be that pair of wings. When Cliff gave a glance to the floor, he tilted his head and considered his expression. He seemed a bit disappointed. Was it because of something Gris had said? Now he was confused.
"Well, that's wonderful," he said in reply to Cliff's answer. After a pause, he tipped his head to one side and then gave Cliff an extremely playful, and rather more mischievous than was appropriate for a Sentinel his age, smile. "This is a lovely territory," he said idly, "you must be quite the impressive lad to secure one of this nature." Ah, shameless flattery in the face of a young male who probably had no idea what he was getting into.
Gris deserved to get eaten by the Sky Fiend.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
