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Post by carter1284 on Jun 4, 2024 15:09:25 GMT -5
An average day, with average weather. The townsmen were minding their business as usual, when they saw a hooded figure walk down the street. Barely anyone paid attention to the 4-foot 8 creature.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 4, 2024 16:32:37 GMT -5
Rena trills softly, her shining silver eyes flicking across town from her place perched atop a roof, massive wings mantled about her slender frame as she watches the small hooded figure. Her head tilts, eyes briefly burning to a caustic white as her blood runs frozen for a moment, a long, horrible moment of cold and hunger and malice. And then it’s gone, with not a hint of it on her face as her eyes fade back to silver. There’s something strange about this newcomer, something that makes the hungry thing coiled around her bones writhe and squirm in anticipation…yes, this definitely bears investigating…so it is that the cursed crow shimmers into invisibility even as she moves to stalk after the figure in unnatural silence…
…Bell trills a quiet tune to himself as the specter of smoke mans his little stall, peddling the weapons and tools he’s crafted, selling each for far less than the quality would indicate, but the specter is happy to simply have his works appreciated. Daggers, swords, bows and battle hammers and axes; hoes and scythes and shovels, trowels and hatchets and hammers of all kinds, all sold for half the price most would ask for weapons and tools of such quality as the spectral smith’s works. And then he notices the small, hooded stranger, and those eyes of amber light briefly twist into orbs of roiling orange flame, the embers speckling his form flaring to life for a brief moment before calming in the same moment…
Loci is sat upon a stump nearby, the little skeleton’s emerald eye lights tracing the words on the page he’s currently on, drinking in every detail of the story laid bare upon the sheaf of parchment held within his hands. It’s the latest installment of his favorite series, the one with the necromancer and the prince. Here, the pair is betrayed, leaving the prince dying, and the necromancer is forced to choose between using her power to save his life at the risk of breaking his mind or relying on her limited knowledge of medicine to prevent the loss of his mind at the risk of the her prince losing his life…the little skeleton glances up from his book as he notices movement on his periphery, and those emerald eye lights flare an acidic green as they lock onto the form of the stranger. Strangely enough, he feels a similar reaction pulse down the link between himself and his mother…seems she’s noticed the same thing…
Whistle is sat up in the tree near her twin’s current reading spot, idly playing with one of her frost coated bayonets as her ruby eyes slowly scan the ground below. The mark on the back of her hand pulses, and the link it serves as the anchor for resonates with a moment of cold/hunger/hate that sends her sitting up ramrod straight, eyes of infernal red scanning for the unfortunate object of her mother’s interest. It’s been a long time since Rena reacted in that manner to anything, so long that her children have nearly forgotten, but Whistle remembers well enough to know that the focus of such interest can only be unfortunate…
Wind cracks her neck, then her knuckles, then pulls out a little knife and lifts up a sizable block of wood to begin carving into it, rose gold eye lights sharpening into focus as she carves away one sliver of wood at a time, slowly working the intended shape into it…this is going to be another figurine, this time of the figure she’d seen while wandering in the forest a few days ago. Slowly, slender wings of membranous leather form from the wood. They’re lacking the muscle to fly, but hold the promise that one day, with enough work and effort, the one whose back they’re attached to might be able to lift off the ground…rose gold eye lights burn to pale white as she glances up, seeing the strange, short figure passing through town. There’s something familiar about the figure, something about the way the cloak shifts, as though concealing something beneath…
Wind trills softly to himself, idly nestling against his skeletal twin’s side as he pulls out a cloth and a small waterskin of oil, carefully wetting the cloth before beginning to wipe down his crossbow, meticulously going over every little detail of the enormous weapon. Slowly, slowly, the golden eyed fledgling cleans his weapon, going over the winding mechanism with a careful touch and gently testing the strength and durability of the arms and string of the crossbow. Golden eyes abruptly flare with electric light as he feels the pulse of emotion travel down the link established by the mark on the back of his hand. The crow smirks, resuming his work. He doesn’t know what’s coming, but whatever it is, it promises to be fun...
Mael trills happily, munching on some pollen from the Scarlet Pimpernels their adoptive mother had taken to cultivating, their big eyes of whirling gray closing as they savor the taste before washing it down with some nectar from the same flower. The flowers in question had been commonplace in the area of the Realms of Wonder where they’d grown up, and the nectar and pollen had, over time, become such a staple in their old people’s diet that they’d come to depend on the stuff…the little crow-pixie shakes their head to clear away the somber thoughts of the family they’d lost, choosing to focus on the family they’d gained, the adoptive mother who’d gone out of her way to find and cultivate the flowers the little pixie needs in order to simply live...
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Post by carter1284 on Jun 4, 2024 22:16:54 GMT -5
Tarkin, weary and discouraged, starts scanning the nearby stalls for anything of use. Most didn't, however, and he'd much rather rely on his spells for defense than some flimsy sword. Still, one caught his attention, a stall selling for half off. Most didn't attract his attention, rather, it was the tools he had. All manner of curiosities he'd never seen, and to top it off, a weird creature, who looked like he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He found a spot on the opposite end of the street, tucked into a corner, and began window shopping. He also noticed a skin and bones kid resting on a stump nearby, but unlike the weird creature, who seemed to be minding his business, this one had his book down, and was scanning the nearby area. But it wasn't just him, but the kid nearby, holding a crossbow bigger than what seemed to be possible for the skin and bones child. He decided not to pay the creatures any heed, and continued his window shopping, see if he could find anything of value.
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Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 5, 2024 2:18:07 GMT -5
Travelling across the marshes, Marion found himself in Moonglade. The habitat here is once again different, and he is dying to go into the fabled Lantern Light Woods, reputed for it's surreal bioluminescent glow, or witness the giant creatures that lives in Shadewood, or visit Moonveil and be able to talk with the druids of the forest- Marion shook his head and patted both cheeks with his palm in attempt to quell the excitement. It's no good to get ahead of oneself and dive right in- it is, still, very dangerous to go into the wilderness alone, and you must remember to fear it, mother said to him- and Marion does mean to take those words seriously. That is why he had made it to Stargazer village first, having tagged along a trader's group to cross the marshes. Now that they have parted ways, the elf was left to his own leisure, cradling his not-so-finished staff in the crook of his arm and pattering though the village, taking in the new sights of marketplaces and food-stalls and housing- and marveling how people are different and still so much the same. He almost ran past the stall, but backtracked- even if he may not have enough money, Marion thought that he should take a look at these great bargains to set a goal in mind to work towards. During his journey with the merchants, Marion quickly came to realize the oversight he had in not actually having a weapon to his name. Maybe he should get a stand-in weapon before Idun had been fully woven...
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 5, 2024 2:57:14 GMT -5
The specter manning the stall with the low-priced weapons and tools lets out a curious trill as his shining amber eyes trace over the staff in the elf’s hands, “...well, that’s an interesting piece…haven’t seen anything made from living wood in a while…not since the Valley…” Bell shakes his head as though trying to clear it, an avian smile forming in the ruffling of the feathers around his beak as he as he tilts his head, “...and that’s a new face, though I really shouldn’t be surprised, what with the rarity you’ve got there…looking for anything in particular?” the spectral crow tilts his head curiously as he speaks.
Still invisible and moving with unnatural silence, Rena observes carefully, her head tilting as she follows from the rooftops, occasionally taking to the air so she can glide to the next, silver eyes ever watching, taking in every detail that she can manage before she moves to drop to the ground between two buildings. Now that she’s out of sight, the crow lets her invisibility drop before stepping around the corner and letting out a chirp to greet her husband and children. She pauses, then, seeming to consider for a moment before moving past herr husband’s stall to check over the children.
Loci trills softly, sparse spectral feathers ruffling in happiness and emerald eye lights briefly flicking to upward crescents as he gently presses into his mother’s nuzzle.
Whistle lets out a happy chirp, outright tackling Rena with a flurry of chirps and trills as the two embrace, Rena letting out an amused, affectionate trill as she gently squeezes her eldest daughter.
Wind and Wind both chirp softly, Wind’s rose gold eye lights flicking to upward crescents as she smiles, while Wind merely sports an avian grin, both of them returning Rena’s gentle nuzzles as she checks them over.
Mael chirps happily when Rena stops by, still munching on pollen and sipping on nectar. The little pixie has a lot of nutrients to build back up, so they’ve been eating the scarlet pimpernel pollen almost every waking moment. They’ve been careful to let their adoptive mother make sure the flowers are pollinated, of course. It wouldn’t do to run out of the seeds…who knows if they’d be able to get more…
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Post by carter1284 on Jun 5, 2024 3:19:37 GMT -5
Tarkin is immediately wary of the new visitors. Two of them were already looking around suspiciously, and now there is five of them. Still, he decided, it was best to ignore these new people, and focus on the shop in front of him. While the shop keep was distracted, he'd slipped in and glanced at one of the shovels on the stands. It looked pretty nice and could definitely help out in further hiding his home from passing folk. He'd much rather not resort to violence, if possible. He noticed the elf but paid him no heed. Still, he was pretty close to the family, and was keeping an eye out for them, and even began thinking of ways to escape this situation, should it turn hairy.
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Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 5, 2024 3:27:15 GMT -5
Marion dipped his head as well in a sense of a greeting, and seemed glad how the other acknowledged Idun- his smile rosy as he un-tangled a bit of the crown of fresh flora that was woven into his gold hair, offering it as a gift- it was a small cluster of daffodils, a freshwater-dependent plant he probably found on the edge of the marshes.
"I do come from the King's valley, good sir, and am blessed enough to be able to be here. I still have work to do with weaving Idun's branches together, but meanwhile, I don't think it would be safe to travel without a ready weapon, just in case- what would you recommend?"
His gaze, however, was quickly drawn away- it was evident how even if it was a necessity, Marion was not as interested in metalwork as he would like to admit to be polite- to the crow-skeleton-family, more curious than anything else, and lit up at spotting the peculiar flower that looked absolutely striking.
"- If it wouldn't be too rude to ask, sir, are they your family? What are your race called- oh, and what are those flowers? Can I take a closer look at them- oh, if it's alright?"
Again patting both sides of his cheeks with his palms to try and pull it back together, Marion still seemed enthusiastic as he spoke again.
"I am abit too excitable- I apologize! It's still making me giddy now how new the world looks, you know, it is my first time leaving home."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 5, 2024 4:06:48 GMT -5
Bell trills softly, eyes softening and avian smile broadening as he accepts the flower, then plucks a loose feather from his spectral plumage to offer in return, the feather seeming to grow more firmly tangible as he offers it, utterly unperturbed by the glossing over of his wares, “...we call ourselves Crows. And yes, those others over there are my family,” with his free hand, the specter points, “the one with the wings and silver eyes, that’s my wife, Rena. Our chicks are Loci, Whistle, Wind, Wind-” those last two seem to be pronounced very differently; wind like a breeze, and wind like a clock, “-and the little pixie munching on the flowers is Mael,” he tilts his head, trilling softly as he considers, “...if you want a look at one of Mael’s flowers, you’d have to take it up with them, I’m afraid. ‘S something of a dietary requirement that we’ve only just recently managed to fill, so they’re rather possessive…” then the specter smirks, and pulls out a tiny bag that rattles a little when shook, “...got some spare seeds here, though. They’re called Scarlet Pimpernel, and as far as we can tell they migrated between Charon and the fae realms sometime in the past, long enough ago that it doesn’t matter which way they went, ‘cause Mael’s species had good enough access to them for long enough to become dependent on something in the nectar and pollen…”
…while Bell is talking with Marion, Wind stands and dusts off her legs, having finished her most recent carving. The little skeleton stretches a bit and cracks her neck a couple times before chirping to her mother and siblings and heading straight for Tarkin. There’s no malice in her steps, no aggression or threat…and there’s the strangely familiar figurine in her hands, though Tarkin’s never seen it before…it’s only when the skeleton with eye lights of rose gold is close enough to set the figurine on the windowsill next to the cloaked and hooded stranger that it becomes clear - the figurine is of Tarkin without his cloak, his draconic features carved in wood and on full display…but there’s no judgment in the skeleton’s eye lights, no disdain or disgust, only the innocent fascination of a child…
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Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 5, 2024 4:35:37 GMT -5
Quite surprised and delighted by the offered trade of little mementos, Marion carefully felt the feather- it grew from spectral to solid before his eyes- and put it into his hair's braids alongside the flowers and leaves. A novel addition, but special indeed. He listened attentively to the introduction of the crow family- he did know were-crows tribe from King's Valley, but these crows seem much different- even if of similar avian morph. Are the two someway related via mimicry, or not at all? Marion considered these thoughts fascinating.
"Oh, scarlet pimpernel- the shepherd's weatherglass, is it? They are said to open their petals only to the sunny sky- Solaria's ward, as some may say. They are more plentiful in light soils, but due to being dangerous to consume by livestock, it had been regarded as a weed, thus being the probable cause of their diminishing numbers-"
Marion seemed to have a habit to let his mouth run when it came to topics like these, as he went on a tangent about how these plants perform in different soil and light conditions, musing about the possibility of a habitat with fields upon fields of them in faewild, and the cultural connection between them and the the weather, if not a somewhat Sun-elf typical habit of putting more focus of thought on Solaria rather than the storm.
"If you need any help with growing these flowers in an imminent sense of speaking, I might be of some help- I will keep an eye out for more wild specimens if needed as well! Genetic variation is still essential to plants, even if the lack of is not as immediately detrimental to them as to, say, mammals."
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Post by carter1284 on Jun 5, 2024 10:06:38 GMT -5
Tarkin takes advantage of the open window to get the shovel. It's his first time practicing human customs outside his books, but he thinks he's prepped. He goes to the shop keep and asks a question. "How much for the shovel?", he asks in broken Common. "20 coins", said the shop keep. He reaches into a pocket on his jacket to pull out a small pouch of coins, and after a small count, retrieves 20 from his pouch. There went most of his reserve supply, but it should be worth it. He takes the shovel and goes with it to his prior corner, before slipping it into his hood. It should be safe here, he thinks to himself, and one last time, observes the family from his corner.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 5, 2024 16:33:32 GMT -5
Bell trills softly, a small smile in the ruffling around his beak as he tilts his head the other way, “...that…would be rather helpful, actually…Rena ‘n I have been doing our best to cultivate them, an’ we haven’t been doin’ a half bad job of it, but…our talents lie elsewhere, y’know?” he lets out a soft chirp, amber eyes shining gently as he takes a moment to tie the flower he’d been gifted into his feathers, the little thing becoming spectral and hazy as he does so. The specter speaks once again, “...if’n ye ever need t’ find us, ask around Moonglade and the Crescent Isles for the Blackfeathers. We’ll hear word soon enough,” and with that, Tolling Bell begins packing away his wares an puts up a sign saying that he’d be back soon. Once that’s done, the amber eyed specter of smoke and embers glances at Marion one last time before he moves to join the rest of his family, the crows chirping and trilling to each other as they all settle into a rough pile at the base of the tree in the center of the square. None of them seem bothered by the inherent boniness of the two skeletons various joints, all content to nestle against eachother, with Rena reaching into the satchel on her hip and pulling out…several food items that could not have possibly fit, distributing said items to her living children before beginning to nibble at one of her own even as she mantles her massive wings around her gathered family…
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Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 5, 2024 17:49:44 GMT -5
The elf nodded, taking note of that- and waved the other a temporary farewell as the stall closed for what seemed like a lunch break. It does serve as a reminder that he'd best get some food for himself (it would be rude to supposed to be served an extra portion, even more so if the dietary needs are different enough between races) and Marion headed off with that in mind, after watching the family from afar for abit. Despite the strange forms of this murder, they seemed like decent enough people- they looked to be-happy, for the lack of a better word. A quaint little life surrounded by people you love and loves you so. - Marion did like the idea of children, and a large family- the thought makes him all warm and fuzzy inside. Shaking the runaway thoughts out of his head, Marion wandered some more, searching for restaurants- he have some sol in his pockets, and it would be a shame not to experience the local cuisine anyway. He ended up not being able to pick one, and thus had bought bites from various food stalls instead. Glistening skewers of glazed meat, vegetable stew served in paper bowls, pastries wrapped in bags to be eaten on the go- he was especially looking forward to try the so called "slimy crunchy skewers" as advertised by the stall owner, which sounded incredibly interesting to eat. Marion thus ran a circle and returned to where he had left from, the bags and all hugged on one arm as he ran over, waving enthusiastically as he jogged over to join the crows.
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Post by carter1284 on Jun 5, 2024 22:53:55 GMT -5
Tarkin notices the bird family leave, and he felt it high time to do so, himself. It was already well longer than he planned to stay, and he craved the comfort of his cave. He glanced to see if anyone was watching him, and when it was safe, he emerged from his corner and blended effortlessly into the crowd. It felt good to finally be away from the city square and enter the outskirts. He breathed a sigh of relief, the hard part was over, and he interacted with as few people as he could. Perhaps, another day, he could come back. Just not today, he thought to himself.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 5, 2024 23:57:19 GMT -5
When Marion approaches the crows trill a welcome and shift to free up some space so he can sit with them, Bell bobbing his head and smiling as he introduces his family to the sun elf.
Loci tilts his head, the little skeleton glancing from Marion to Idun, emerald eye lights shining with curiosity as he murmurs, “...y-your staff…i-it’s a-alive…” it’s not the first time he’s seen a star in a plant - they’re a bit dimmer and more spread out, less stars and more auras - but this is the first time he’s seen a plant stay alive after being uprooted…
Whistle trills softly, happily tearing off and gulping down strips of seasoned spider jerky as she nestles against her undead brother’s side, ruby eyes occasionally glancing at Marion before flicking away to focus on something else…
Wind is a little saddened that the stranger had left before she could give him the figurine she’d carved in his likeness, but the little skeleton is mostly unbothered, resolving to get the little wooden statue to him at some point in the future and tucking the carving into her bag for the time being before nestling back against her golden eyed twin.
Wind is nibbling at his own strip of spider jerky, savoring the flavors of the seasonings and the meat itself as he happily presses back against his twin, golden eyes slowly drifting shut as he lets out a contented trill…
…Mael yawns softly, the tiny little pixie setting the flower they’d been munching from down and fluttering over to crawl into Rena’s satchel so they can curl up in the little nest they’d been set up with in there…
...throughout all of this, Rena's silver eyes take in every little detail of Marion that they can, those orbs shining softly as she tilts her head slightly and takes occasional bites of the jerky in her hand. There's no animosity there, only simple curiosity as she examines the stranger her husband had befriended.
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Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 6, 2024 1:22:13 GMT -5
Setting down his purchases and taking a seat admist the circle, Marion pushed the loose hair behind his ears as he laid out his own food- if anyone is interested, all are free to take a bite. The "slimy crunchy skewers" turned out to be frog thighs grilled with a sweet-sour sauce, and have a very special bounciness to it- the sun elf had never been a picky eater, having learnt to be grateful for food on the table, as well as himself being somewhat of a gourmet as well, curious to sample and eager to experience food in different cultures and places. It have something to do with his roots, Marion would think absent-mindedly, how in the end the bounty of harvest is indeed to fill the bellies of people and creatures alike- and it is this fullness and the bliss of simply eating, that give this gold their meaning.
"To be able to eat- this is the privilege of living!" This was heartfelt, as he sighed out in contentment, licking his lips clean of the stew he had sipped- the taste is soft and gentle on the tounge, the fragrance of hearty broth homely like a hearth.
Marion was brought out of his musings, when one of the little crows... chicks? perhaps? Commented on Idun, which he had propped against the trunk of the great tree that they were all sat underneath.
"You can see her?" Genuinely quite surprised by the little one's ability, Marion put down his bowl, and reached over to pick Idun up for the other to have a better look at it. "She is half-asleep, but yes, alive-and she'd be able to grow too, when I wake her up." Grinning, perhaps alittle mischievously, Marion's ears perked up as he put a finger in front of his lips.
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