bow-and-talon

[bow-and-talon]

[[ @perdicinae-observer ]] A gleaming pheasant suddenly halted in its sprint under Saint-Cyr's tree.

Peep-peep! ("Gouvion! Are you up there?")

The owl looks down at the pheasant, not recognizing who that is.

“What do you want?”

[bow-and-talon]

*tries to turn you back into a human*

*poof*

….

Damn. That didn’t work.

[bow-and-talon]

Are you still an owl? If yes... *hands out seeds on the palm of hand*

Saint-Cyr is still most definitely an owl. His chateau has burned down, and he’s living in an owl box in a tree with two other owls. He has an electric violin he can’t use, because he’s an owl.

He eyes the seeds the Anon is holding out. It seems quite beneath his dignity to eat out of someone else’s hand, regardless if he’s an owl or not. And there’s another issue.

“Thank you, but I cannot accept. Bird seed doesn’t agree with me.”

[bow-and-talon]

Your artistic rendition is most appreciated. 🦉 Thank you.

This 🦉 has been on my mind for weeks🫶😧

[bow-and-talon]

Saint-Cyr is away from the eagle for now, although still in Davout’s grasp. And he’s still trying to process the idea that this is Napoleon. “I assume the same sort of thing that has befallen me has done the same to him?”

And why is he eyeing Davout like that? he thinks.

@alexanderfanboy @perdicinae-observer @frencheaglet @le-fils

Feathery Insanity

— @alexanderfanboy , @le-fils , @bow-and-talon , @frencheaglet —

[[ 1 , ... ]]

——————————•

Davout wasn't exactly sure if his perpetual lack of body warmth could help keep the small eagle comfortable, or how much human characteristics Napoleon's feathered form actually retained; the emperor did appear to be more...animalistic compared to other transformations he had observed. However, his latter inquiry was swiftly answered with the sight of the Marquis in between the emperor's large talons, screeching with all the might his little body could muster.

...Sire, that— AH—!

Alarmed, Davout attempted to calmly sway the Napoleon eagle to let go of the delicate Saint-Cyr in his grasp— an attempt quickly quelled by said subject of concern being practically squashed into his face just seconds later, knocking his glasses off clean during the struggle.

Sire—! ouff! The chick requires— consistent warm, I was— ack—! Let me explai—! Oh, to hell with this! Fine, fine!

After a brief wrestle with a GODDAMNED EAGLE and common sense had finally kicked in, Davout managed to return the eaglet and its makeshift nest in exchange for his disconcerted owlish comrade— thankfully without committing accidental means cannibalism. (Save for the feathers that landed in his mouth.)

Ugh, pleh... [*ptui!*] ...Eugh.

Whether it was from concern for his friend, annoyance at his sudden blindness, or both; the marshal blinked at the avian in his hand and squinted at him with a puzzled yet agitated look.

Gouvion? You...! How in the blazes are you still an owl? What are you doing out in the open? Are you harmed?

[bow-and-talon]

*Holds you in hands like a burger*

[ Turns his head all the way around glare at Anonyme]

Are you done yet?

[bow-and-talon]

Here, have a tree!

(The tree has a birdhouse on it.)

Saint-Cyr now has a big leafy tree with an owl box to sleep in. And, for some reason, bright and cozy warm string lights everywhere, because the previous anonymous citizen gave him an electricity source.

[bow-and-talon]

*gives you an electric violin, amplifier and electrical supply* for u when u turn back human

That’s … very useful, anonymous. Thank you.

[bow-and-talon]

I agree with that one anon. I also want to eat you. You look eatable. Especially because youre an owl. Also i hope your house is okay

“Why is everyone so intent on eating me?”

Saint-Cyr’s house is not okay. It’s burned down to the ground, with a few timbers and bricks still standing. Everything — including his prized violin and sheet music collection.

[bow-and-talon]

Hooo-oot?

[bow-and-talon]

So the two baby owls is always following him everywhere............ HIS HOUSE IS ON FIRE! IT STARTED FROM THE KITCHEN!!

“MY HOUSE!”

There’s not a whole lot Saint-Cyr can do about this. He’s still an owl, although were he human he’s not sure he could have stopped it, either. The fire explodes out of the kitchen and quickly consumes the rest of his house, taking everything in it with it.

[bow-and-talon]

Why are you so petit i want to consume you

Do NOT eat.

[bow-and-talon]

Owlets could be called: Viola and Cello!

Viola, Cello, how can a string quartet properly function without a bass?

[bow-and-talon]

*a baby tawny owl look at Saint Cyr, it looks like a nice baby owl. The baby owl think that Saint Cyr are it's parent.*

Another one?

[bow-and-talon]

A smol tiny owl landed in front of you and keep staring at you. The smol owl wouldn't go away until you give them some food. Heck, maybe the tiny owl thinks that you're their father

Fine. You may have half of my shrew.

[bow-and-talon]

🥠

I beg your pardon?

[bow-and-talon]

The little owl struggles, being held like a bread loaf in Davout's hand. He hisses and hoots at the eaglet, with his taloned feet splayed out and kicking on either side of Davout's palm. It's all very undignified, but he's too riled up at the moment. Maybe the baby eagle wants to be friends but, clearly, the owl isn't convinced!

"Back! I am not food!" He finally notices where he is. "Davout! Thank god, you're here! I think that eagle wanted to eat me ... wait, did you just call it 'Sire'?"

@perdicinae-observer @le-fils @frencheaglet @alexanderfanboy

Feathery Insanity

— @alexanderfanboy , @le-fils , @bow-and-talon , @frencheaglet —

[[ 1 , ... ]]

——————————•

Davout wasn't exactly sure if his perpetual lack of body warmth could help keep the small eagle comfortable, or how much human characteristics Napoleon's feathered form actually retained; the emperor did appear to be more...animalistic compared to other transformations he had observed. However, his latter inquiry was swiftly answered with the sight of the Marquis in between the emperor's large talons, screeching with all the might his little body could muster.

...Sire, that— AH—!

Alarmed, Davout attempted to calmly sway the Napoleon eagle to let go of the delicate Saint-Cyr in his grasp— an attempt quickly quelled by said subject of concern being practically squashed into his face just seconds later, knocking his glasses off clean during the struggle.

Sire—! ouff! The chick requires— consistent warm, I was— ack—! Let me explai—! Oh, to hell with this! Fine, fine!

After a brief wrestle with a GODDAMNED EAGLE and common sense had finally kicked in, Davout managed to return the eaglet and its makeshift nest in exchange for his disconcerted owlish comrade— thankfully without committing accidental means cannibalism. (Save for the feathers that landed in his mouth.)

Ugh, pleh... [*ptui!*] ...Eugh.

Whether it was from concern for his friend, annoyance at his sudden blindness, or both; the marshal blinked at the avian in his hand and squinted at him with a puzzled yet agitated look.

Gouvion? You...! How in the blazes are you still an owl? What are you doing out in the open? Are you harmed?