Logs:Of a Feather

Of a Feather
Dramatis Personae Bryce, Horus
In Absentia DJ	2024-11-21 How does that feel do you want to eat mice now.
Location <XAV> Forest - Xs Grounds
Quiet and shady, the trees rise all around here high and thick. In stillness, woodland creatures make appearances, though sudden noises scare them back into the cover. Dappled sunlight filters down between the thick foliage, and the ground underfoot is heavily overgrown, though here and there paths have been worn, by deer or years of students wandering familiar trails. The forest here is crisp and still. It's far afield from the school, the sounds of the mansion entirely gone at this distance. There are quiet footsteps carefully crunching the leaves, a quiet rustle of clothing. Bryce is out here, in jeans, hiking sneakers, a camo jacket that is doing absolutely nothing to keep him camouflaged, given the vivid bright red feathers crowning his also vividly blue-green scaled face. He's crouching down low, now, peering at a cluster of mushrooms growing at the roots of a tree. He's got his phone out, taking a picture of them first and then carefully poring over an identification app to try to identify them. It's about to get less quiet. There's a heavy rustle of wings overhead. A flutter through the branches. A hawklike screech that precedes a swoop of wind ruffling at Bryce's bright red feathers. Mr. Horus -- tablet strapped in its harness to his chest and a sparkling white Panama hat on his head, crimson and gold hatband around it and one singular large black and brown speckled feather stuck in the band -- is alighting on a branch over Bryce's head. His own head turns one direction, then the other, as he peers downward toward Bryce and the mushrooms, letting out a low questioning warble. Bryce tips his head back, a quick smile on his face. "Oh! Hi Mr. Horus! Are you," he considers this carefully, "having a good flight?" His scaley forehead scrunches slowly inward at the warble, and he looks down at the mushrooms. "Oh I've been trying to learn how to identify mushrooms better, some of them are really tricky. Not these guys though," he's pointing to the large mushrooms growing under the tree, "I don't think there's any poisonous mushrooms that look like this. They're hard to find though!" Horus warbles again, less questioning this time. He's fluttering down before Bryce has even finished speaking -- almost immediately after the Boy Scout is saying there's no poisonous lookalikes he's whooshing down, landing beside the boy. His huge beak stabs downward; he's munching down one of the mushrooms promptly, head tipping back as he swallows it. His beak clacks once, and he squawks sharply, head shaking several times. "Oh -- oh!" Bryce tips backwards, startled, his hand dropping to the ground for balance as Horus poaches one of the mushrooms. "Oh no I wanted..." He doesn't finish this dismayed exclamation, though he is watching Horus a little cautiously now. The wariness fades to quick amusement. "I think they taste much better if you cook them, sir, I was going to bring these to my brother I think he'd be psyched. These get eaten real quick and rot real quick so finding good ones is exciting." He's peering over at Horus, curious. "Do you like mushrooms? I thought birds of prey ate, like. Animals." Horus draws his head back to an almost absurd degree of affront, squawking once more at Bryce's comment. he leans forward, tweaking very lightly at one of the brilliant red feathers on the boy's head. Then poking his beak in the general direction of the mushrooms. "Huh?" Bryce pats at his head as if his feathers need re-smoothing after the tweak. He's tipping his eyes upward, considering his fringe of feathers first and then the mushrooms. Then patting again at his head. "I don't..." he begins, a little confused. "I'm not a bird of prey!" Horus's feathers ae slowly puffing themselves out, but press back down as he flips his tablet down. He's tapping furiously at the screen -- it takes a moment before his AAC begins delivering his words rich and sonorous. Parrot parrot you stole stole stole blatantly parrot where are your nuts where are your seeds do your feathers dictate your life. "What? No, I don't steal, I just --" Bryce's face scrunches. He shakes his head quickly, reroutes from this detour: "Sorry, sorry, I guess I shouldn't, um." Now he sounds a little more uncertain, but he's gamely taking a stab at The Moral here anyway: "... stereo... type? I mean you do look pretty falcony, you know. Your feathers are super cool." He's tilting his head thoughtfully, and at the fringes of the red, a few speckled cream and brown feathers strikingly similar to Horus's are replacing the vivid eclectus feathering. Yes yes yes no stereotyping very very bad very very rude some birds very very adventurous eaters. Horus's head dips, preening lightly at his feathers. His hat is sliding slightly to the side, then, with the sharp angle at which he is staring at Bryce as the feathers shift. The rapid clackclackclack of his beak that follows is loud, and he plucks his stylus back up to immediately defy his own injunction against stereotyping: Oh ho oh ho very stylish very very stylish. How does that feel do you want to eat mice now. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Horus, I didn't mean to be rude." Bryce's chagrin does not last very long in the face of this praise, though. His new feathers stand a little prouder, and several more are following suit, red shifting in favor of the brown and white speckles. "Whaaat no why would I --" he's starting to say, but changes his mind halfway through with a quick crinkle-nosed smile. "... maaaybe I do, why, could you teach me to hunt?" Horus is scooting sideways, trying between the awkward lift of one large wing and a small tip of his head against the treetrunk to re-right his hat and situtate it properly atop his head. This takes a fair bit of finagling, but finally he has it where he wants it, carefully tapping the crown of the hat against the tree to press it securely back into place before he taps out an answer. I do not not not have the right hat for hunting today not right hat at all. Another day I will get hunting hat but but but if you want to hunt you will need wings. Feathers are a start a start but not not not enough. Bryce tucks his phone into his pocket. He's peering very intently at Horus, and chewing slowly on the inside of his cheek. "If -- if you don't mind," he ventures, "I could try to get wings. But you'd, um, still have to teach me how to fly." Horus stretches his wings out wide, hitching them up once, twice, then letting them tuck back to his sides. Try try try try, his tablet sedately encourages. I hope hope hope you aren't scared of falling.