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azvolrien · 3 years

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Gryphon Beach Party

I’m not even going to pretend that this has much of a plot; it’s more of a slice-of-life thing, winding up characters and letting them bounce off each other, with a fair helping of worldbuilding. It also ended up quite a bit longer than I’d intended when I started, but I was having fun.

In the spring of Asta’s second year living in Stormhaven, she decides to attend an important cultural festival and makes a new friend into the bargain. What Happens Next Will Shock You! (no it won’t)

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There had only been one to start with, but as the afternoon went on more and more had joined the parade until a whole flock of young gryphons hurtled around the College, all screaming something over and over at the top of their collective voice.

Asta attempted to tune it out. “So, remind me how many of the day students have decided to start boarding?”

Matron Inkfoot sat up on her haunches and double-checked her clipboard. “Seven first-year apprentices, four second-years, and one third-year.”

“A third-year? It doesn’t usually take them that long to decide.”

“It is out of the ordinary,” said Inkfoot, nodding, “but Ffion Howell’s family are moving out of the city in a month, so she’ll have to start boarding on a full-term basis. The others will be week boarders.”

“Right.” Asta scribbled the details in her notebook. “Will the dormitories require any reshuffling to make room for them?”

“No, there are enough free beds,” said Inkfoot. “The actual floor space is running somewhat low, but the new dorm annexe should be ready by the end of the summer before the next batch of first-years arrive.” She hung her clipboard from one of her harness straps and dropped back to all fours.

“Good, that ought to simplify things,” said Asta just as the bell rang to signal the end of the day’s last lessons. “I’ll amend the apprentice records in the admin office and see to it that the kitchen staff know how many breakfasts and dinners they’ll need to account for. And then…” The chorus of gryphons outside had fallen silent at the bell, but as soon as its echoes faded they took up their cry even louder than before. “…And then I give up. What are they chanting out there?”

Matron Inkfoot cocked her head, angling her ears to listen properly. The tip of her tail flicked to and fro in amusement. “Arakhasthan,” she said, making the kh and the sth into a resonant click in her throat and a sort of roughened hiss from the sides of her beak.

Asta rolled the word over in her mind a few times. “I don’t think I have any hope of pronouncing that properly,” she admitted. “What does it mean? I assume it’s Gryphic, but…”

“No, humans always have trouble with Gryphic,” said Inkfoot. “You just don’t have the right vocal structures. It’s why our names are usually in Imperial. Arakhasthan means something like ‘time of new feathers’.”

“Oh, the New Feather Festival?” said Asta. “Tigerhide mentioned something about it earlier but I didn’t know what she meant.”

Inkfoot nodded and half-spread her wings to display her glossy new flight feathers, each one a deep gold-brown tipped with black and almost five feet long. “It’s when we celebrate the end of the spring moult, when everyone loses their winter plumage and gets their summer coat instead.”

“I did notice the gryphons were all looking a bit, um…”

“Scruffy?” suggested Inkfoot, her tail-tuft twitching again.

“I was going to say ‘unkempt’,” said Asta, “but it didn’t seem polite to comment.”

Inkfoot made a soft clicking sound in her throat – the gryphon equivalent of a light chuckle – before she cocked her head in the other direction and her crest-feathers raised slightly in a curious ‘frown’. “Were you not here for last year’s festival? I know you came to Stormhaven that Hawk Moon. Sirakithi, in the Kiraani calendar.”

Asta stared into space for a few seconds, counting the months backwards on the joints of her fingers. “I was living in Stormhaven by then, yes, but I was on a trip up to Northold around this time of year.”

“That explains it, then. There aren’t as many gryphons up north – they don’t make such a big fuss about Feather Fest. Do you think you’ll come this year?”

Asta blinked and drew herself up a little. “I – well. Is it allowed? I’m not exactly…”

“A gryphon?” said Inkfoot with another flick of her tail-tuft. “Or from Stormhaven?”

“Well, both, I suppose, but I meant being human.”

“No, no, plenty of humans come to the festival,” Inkfoot assured her. “There are some parties in the city – you might’ve spotted bundles of shed feathers hanging from lampposts and so on – but the big get-together will be on Aberystrad Beach tomorrow. Quite a lot of the wizards like to attend; I’ll be shepherding a few apprentices myself.”

Asta gave it a few seconds’ thought. “I… need to get this up to the admin office,” she said, holding up her notebook. “But after that… I suppose it might be nice to get out of the city for a few hours.”

She was far from the only person to have made that decision. The next day was perfect weather for a festival – clear skies and a light breeze off the sea, with the warmth of late spring before the oppressive heat of high summer properly rolled in from the south – and there were so many people trying to leave Stormhaven that there was a queue for the north road. Asta drummed her fingers on Pardus’s saddle-pommel as she waited her turn to pass through the Soldier Gate. Stormhaven’s city walls were not as substantial as Kiraan’s old fortifications, now long overtaken by urban sprawl and only encircling a small area around the Emperor’s palace, but they were still more than twenty feet tall, five feet thick at the base, and a more than adequate barrier to everyday passage; while there were smaller gates for pedestrians around the walls, each of the main ones was only wide enough for two lanes of traffic. There were no checks, however, and the guards waved Asta through without delay. Outside the wall, she tapped Pardus in the ribs with her heels and spurred the construct into a brisk trot. Even past the gates, the road was busy with a steady stream of carts, carriages, pedestrians and beasts of burden both natural and constructed, but the pace soon picked up and as the city fell behind, the road widened until Pardus could overtake the slower traffic and accelerate to a flat-out gallop.

Aberystrad Beach was a few miles north of the city, but Pardus at full tilt ate up the distance in less than a quarter of an hour, easily keeping pace with the cloud of gryphons soaring above and outstripping many of them. The well-signposted turnoff soon came into sight up ahead, and Asta tugged on the reins to steer Pardus down the narrower, more winding side-road to the beach. Rolling dunes covered with wiry marram grass rose up to either side until the paving was completely engulfed; only the trail of footprints and wheel-marks through the soft, dry sand gave any sign it should be there. The sand slid under Pardus’s paws as the construct slowed to a walk and crested the last dune before the beach.

After five years in the Sea Lochs and more than one in Stormhaven, Asta sometimes felt she was used to the sight of the Western Ocean, but she seldom had a view with no buildings or hills in the way. Out here, beyond the city walls and on top of the dunes above the beach, there was nothing to obstruct the view, and for a long while she forgot to do anything but stare. There was a chain of islands out there somewhere, she knew, but they were far enough from the coast that even on such a clear day there was no sign of them. A single ship – three masts, so not Captain Steel’s Curlew – was under full sail a couple of miles offshore, bound for the north, but otherwise only a few white dots of seabirds and the shadow of the odd small cloud broke up that vast expanse of blue-grey-green stretching to three horizons.

Below the mottled green-yellow of the dunes and with the tide well out, the beach was a long, broad sweep of white sand split in two by the River Ystrad, its broad, looping channel shallow enough to easily wade through. Above the river, a natural outcrop of some rock hard enough to withstand the sea had been carved into a huge statue of a gryphon – more than twice the height of the city walls – sitting up and gazing out to the west. Years of wind and waves had worn its front claws smooth, leaving only vague shapes to show the sculptor’s intent, but its head with its alert stare, fierce hooked beak and pointed ears could have been carved yesterday and the detailing of the feathers on its half-folded wings was still clear even from a casual glance. A few of its flesh-and-blood cousins perched atop its head and on ledges at its shoulders and haunches, but far more had staked out little campsites along the sand below.

There was no shortage of humans as Inkfoot had said, but if the gryphons did not truly outnumber them, the numbers were as close to equal as Asta had ever seen; hundreds of gryphons had set up colourful blankets and sunshades all along the beach, lounging on the warm sand, while others queued at food stalls just below the dunes where scents of cooking meat billowed up from fire pits dug into the sand. Still more gryphons circled above, soaring effortlessly as they caught rising thermals beneath their wings. A small group was hard at work down the beach attempting to erect two thin poles almost as tall as the huge sculpture, perhaps markers for a game of some sort. Snatches of music and voices raised in song – enthusiastic if not always tuneful – drifted on the air. And yet, for all the bustle of the festival, the beach was big enough that it did not feel crowded, and when Asta rode down from the dune she easily found a free space for herself and Pardus beside one of the statue’s hind feet. She climbed down from the saddle, laid her travel rug out on the sand, and had Pardus lie down for a backrest before she unpacked her picnic from the saddlebags. There was no one she recognised in sight – or at least, no one she dared to approach unasked – so instead she sat back against Pardus’s flank to drink her tea and watch the goings-on.

A few of the airborne gryphons had stopped their lazy circling and, while the others drew back to fly in a vast ring around them, launched into some kind of aerial performance, twisting into loops and rolls and locking talons to fling one another across the sky. Some had clipped brightly-patterned streamers to their feathers while others trailed strings of polished metal discs from their legs and their tails, turning the whole display into a riot of colour and light to shrieks of approval from the audience. A band struck up on a stage below – two gryphons with a harp and a set of drums, and three humans with flute, guitar and fiddle – but it wasn’t clear if they were setting a beat for the flyers above or just playing along with them. A crowd quickly gathered around the stage to dance along.

Between the cheering, the music and the thunder of wings it was absolutely deafening, and the Asta of two years ago would have been terrified – not just of the general uproar but of the gryphons themselves, of their talons like grappling hooks and their beaks that could shear through bone – but now, after the journey south with Steel, Pirate and their crew and then months of living in Stormhaven and working with Inkfoot and the College messengers, it was no more threatening than any other festival. The gryphons may have been huge carnivores who showed more expression in their feathers than their faces, but they were people as much as any human or elf.

Asta had just finished her first cup of tea when one young man peeled off from the crowd around the stage and trotted over to her, almost tripping over a trio of small, fluffy gryphon chicks who were making a determined effort to bury an older male up to his neck in sand.

“Want to dance?” he asked, holding out one hand with a cheerful grin. Asta glanced up from her mug, and something in her throat and her stomach came to a juddering halt. Fair skin, dark hair, incredibly blue eyes – not Daro, of course not him, that wasn’t fair on this innocent stranger, but-

“That’s very kind of you,” Asta stammered once her voice would obey her. “But I- I think I’m fine where I am for now.”

“Are you sure? You could-”

A shadow fell over both of them. “The lady gave you her answer,” said a new voice, this one a deep, gravelly rasp. The young man swallowed, nodded, and retreated back to his friends on the makeshift dancefloor.

Asta shaded her eyes and squinted up at the gryphon who had just landed on the statue’s foot. “He meant no harm,” he said. “He’s a good lad; son of an old friend from the army. But I like to see a ‘no’ is respected. Mind if I sit?” Asta shook her head and he hopped down onto the sand at Pardus’s tail, clutching a leg of meat in his claws. His feathers were an unassuming dark tawny colour with off-white barring on his wings, and like many gryphons he wore a harness around his chest. However, where most of the harnesses Asta had seen were made of leather and often decorated with carvings and medallions, this one was sternly utilitarian – all tough, heavy canvas dyed a dull grey-green – and its only decoration was an old rank insignia pinned to one shoulder-strap. Even without it and his comment about the army she would have thought him an ex-military sort: he had clearly and literally been in the wars, for half of his tail, one ear and a toe on his left foreclaw were all missing, and various odd ridges and discoloured patches in his feathers suggested more scarring beneath them.

As she watched – surreptitiously, from the corner of her eye – he took a waxed cloth from one of the satchels on his harness, spread it on the sand, and carefully laid the haunch on top before he pinned it in place with his talons and began to tear away strips of meat with the tip of his beak. The outside had been seared brown over one of the fire pits, but the inside was so rare it was almost still bleeding.

“What is that?” asked Asta. “Beef?”

“Horse,” he said with his mouth full, and flicked his head back to tip the flesh down his throat. “Want some?”

“I… Wh… No, I brought my own food. But thank you for offering.”

He gave a little shrug with his wings as if to say your loss and returned his attention to his meal. “Kiraani, are you?” he asked once he had stripped it to the bone. Asta nodded, and he lowered his head to the sand to scrub away the juices crusting on his beak. “Thought so. Last time I was in arm’s reach of one of your lot was during the war.”

“Um.”

He clattered a laugh in the back of his throat. “I won’t hold it against you. Bravest soldier I ever met was an Imperial scout I ran into in the Darkwald. Fought like a tiger, he did – not many humans’ll square up to a full-grown gryphon with just a knife to hand, but he left quite the mark. Would’ve liked to know him better, if we’d met under different circumstances.”

“Is that what happened to, um…” Asta nodded towards his missing toe.

“Ayah. What happened to this, too.” He turned to look at her squarely, and she narrowly stifled her horrified recoil down to a twitch. The same wound that had taken his ear had carved a huge gnarled scar down that side of his face, leaving a deep notch in the bony ridge above the empty eye socket and twisting the corner of his beak into a permanent grimace. He laughed again, waving what remained of his tail from side to side, and lifted a talon to his intact brow ridge in an informal salute. “Flight Captain Redbolt, lately of the Second Assault Wing.”

Asta smiled despite herself. “Asta zeDamar, still working at the College of Sorcery’s admin office.”

“Ah, the College? You’d know Inkfoot, then.”

“Oh, yes, we often work together to sort out one thing or another.”

Redbolt gave a little sigh and looked up at a small, wispy white cloud high above. “Had quite a crush on her when we were both younger, but she was never interested. Wanted to focus on looking after the little wizards.”

“They do take a lot of looking after.”

“Talking of schools,” said Redbolt, “here’s something I’ve wondered for a while. I know how we remember the Darkwald War. How’s it taught in Kiraan?”

“Well, there’s a certain degree of embarrassment there,” admitted Asta. “As if a lot of the people writing textbooks aren’t really sure how the army of a nation as small as Stormhaven faced down the Legions and won.”

“I’m not sure ‘won’ is the right word. Felt more like everyone just got tired and stopped.”

Asta nodded acknowledgement of the point. “But otherwise it’s a lot more honest and even-handed than you might expect, both about how it started and ended and everything in between. The main focus from a tactical standpoint tends to be on the wizards and the gryphons – though you can tell in some of the older books that they hadn’t quite wrapped their heads around you being people rather than just well-trained animals.”

“In the end, are we not all just well-trained animals?” said Redbolt with such exaggerated soulfulness that Asta snorted with laughter. “You know, the books – ours and yours – always gloss over how boring it was most of the time. Lots of long stretches of just sitting around waiting for something to happen, with the odd quick burst of-” he paused for an instant, glanced at her, and obviously changed what he had been about to say, “-heart-stopping terror.”

“The Voynazhi priesthood don’t really like to focus on that part for some reason,” said Asta drily.

Redbolt chuckled. “Me, I always wonder how many priests of Voynazh have actually seen battle.”

“And how many would find another vocation if they did.” Asta looked down at her hands for a moment and asked, more quietly and with some hesitation, “Have you ever met a berserker?”

“One or two over the years. One or two.” Redbolt opened his beak in a gaping yawn and scratched under his jaw with a talon. “Deadly fighters, but they don’t make good soldiers. Don’t work well in a team; can’t hold a formation. What makes you ask?”

“I… used to be a slave,” said Asta. Redbolt cocked his head slightly but offered no comment. “Up in the Sea Lochs. I escaped, but before I made it down to Stormhaven I… I lived with this woman for a few weeks. Roan.” Absently, Asta brushed her fingers against her lips. “She lived alone, a long way out on the coast miles from anywhere. And she was a berserker. I suppose I wondered… I’m not sure. If berserkers were usually loners like that, or if that was just how she was.”

“Didn’t spend enough time with them to know,” said Redbolt. “Yours, well… Clearly not so much a loner that she wouldn’t let you stay with her.”

“No, I suppose not.” Asta fell silent and gazed out at the horizon. “I hope she’s all right by herself up there.”

Redbolt looked from Asta to the sea and back again, quietly scraping his talons through the sand, then got to his feet and stretched out his wings to their full extent, his feathers reaching thirty feet from end to end. Despite his buzzardish markings, his wing conformation was more eagle than hawk – long, broad, and almost rectangular – and he was the biggest gryphon Asta had met so far, taller than Inkfoot and more heavily built. “Tell you what,” he said. “They’ll be starting the ring toss in a few minutes. I can give you a lift up there if you want a better view.” He pointed up to the statue’s head high above them.

“Ring toss?”

He laughed. “Not the kind you’d see at a funfair.” Asta bit her lip, looking with some apprehension at the statue towering above. Redbolt cocked his head, lifting his crest a little, and went on more soberly. “By the sun’s egg and the sky’s breath,” he said, “you are safe with me.”

Asta had spent enough time with Inkfoot to know how serious an oath that was to a gryphon. Some did follow human religions – she had once seen one making an offering at a shrine to Kura – but most kept to their own nameless sky-gods. She nodded, stowed what was left of her picnic back in the saddlebags, and stood up.

“Ever flown before? Nah? I’ll give you the – ah – crash course now, then.” He took a belt made from the same canvas as his harness from one of his satchels and passed it over. “First, you can’t sit up like you can on a horse or a construct, or even a gryphon walking; the balance and the wind resistance’ll be all off. So…” He bent his forelegs and nodded for her to climb onto his back. “You’ll want to get your knees on the back of my wing joints first, just where they meet my shoulders – gods, do you have bird bones yourself? You hardly weigh a thing – and belt yourself to that back strap, then lie flat on your belly and put your arms forward over my wings. You see those loops on the harness collar? Put your wrists through them and hold on where they join the main strap, like you’d hold one of those handles that stop you falling over on a tram. There you go.”

“You’ve done this before?” asked Asta.

He nodded and walked away from the statue. “Every military gryph big enough to carry a human gets the training. Never know when you’ll need to pull one of your mates out of a sticky situation. Ready?”

“I think so.”

Redbolt rocked back onto his hind legs and leapt into the air with one massive downward stroke of his wings. Asta’s knuckles turned pure white, but the straps held; within seconds, they were soaring in a wide circle above the sea faster than Pardus could run. Asta looked down over Redbolt’s shoulder, watching his shadow skim over the waves. The sun-warmed water was a beautiful clear turquoise over the white sand beneath; more than a few festival-goers were taking a swim and throwing a ball around. As Asta watched, one of the gryphons flying above folded their wings and dropped in a breakneck stoop right into the water with an enormous splash, only to resurface to enthusiastic cheers with a silver fish clutched in their talons.

Another, lazier beat of Redbolt’s wings carried them higher, before his outstretched feathers found a thermal that bore them upwards until they were above the statue’s head. Asta lifted her own to catch the wind on her face.

“Make some room down there!” roared Redbolt. Half a dozen gryphons looked up from their perches around the statue’s ears and promptly scattered, leaving Redbolt free to glide in for a landing. He flared out his wings and the fan of feathers at the base of his tail to slow himself, lowered his hind claws to the carved stone, and dropped to all fours. “There we go,” he said as the other gryphons reclaimed their space. Asta unbuckled the safety belt, slid down from his back, and peered over the edge of the statue’s head. Pardus still lay on the sand where she had left it, some fifty feet below. “I’ll say this for you,” said Redbolt, hooking a precautionary talon into the half-belt at the back of her coat. “You’ve no fear of heights. Last rider I carried screamed his head off the whole time.”

“No, I’d say heights are one of the few things that don’t scare me,” said Asta, sitting down cross-legged at the edge.

“Evidently,” said one of the other gryphons, this one a younger female with grey-and-white plumage and long pointed wings. “When was the last time you gave a human a ride?”

Redbolt shrugged. “Four, five years ago? I’ve kept up with the weight training in the meantime, though. Oh – Asta, this is my niece Gull. Gull, Asta. Thought she’d get a better view of the ring toss from up here.”

“Ooh, yeah, you get the best view of the game from up here!” said Gull, her tail-tip drumming on the stone behind her. “Tunnel Fifteen’s put together a really strong team this year, but I was just talking to Stoat here and he thinks the Windstone Wing are the ones to watch.”

“They’ve got a very good defence this year,” said Stoat, whose feathers did indeed give him a resemblance to the animal: mostly a reddish-brown, but with a white bib down the front of his neck and a black tail-tuft. “But it’s true, Tunnel Fifteen has some very quick players. Slate is one of the best flyers out there; the Wing’ll have to account for her if they end up against the Fifteens in the tournament. Who do you think’s in with the best chance?” he asked Asta.

This was met with a blank stare.

“You don’t… actually know how it works, do you?” said Gull. “Oh, well, it’s pretty simple. Each team has five players; they have to try and get the ring onto their team’s goalpost, but they have to throw it; if anyone’s touching the ring when it goes over the post, the point doesn’t count. A game lasts either an hour or seven rings’ worth of play, whichever’s shorter. If there’s a draw after an hour, they have a tiebreaker round.”

“And no biting or clawing the other team,” added Stoat. “You draw blood, you’re out of the game.”

“It’s not as interesting since they added that rule,” said Redbolt, his tone so bland that Asta couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Gull cuffed him on the back of his head with one wingtip as the first two teams took flight above the game field, marked out from each other by different colours on their harnesses. Another gryphon with a blue-and-white harness – presumably a referee – flew overhead and dropped a foot-wide wooden ring from their talons, and both teams launched into play.

Asta had very little idea what was going on despite the running commentary Gull and Stoat provided for her, but it was surprisingly engrossing nonetheless. Ring toss, it turned out, was a fast-paced game of skill and agility where the airborne players flung the ring to their teammates or intercepted it from their opponents so quickly that it was difficult to keep track of where it was until it landed on the goalpost and slid down to a hook a couple of feet below the top. None of the games lasted the full allotted hour, and a few of the more uneven ones barely went a minute between the referee dropping the ring and a point being scored.

The tournament final had just started – as it turned out, neither Tunnel Fifteen nor the Windstone Wing had made it there – in the late afternoon when Stoat pricked up his ears. “Asta, you said your name was?”

“Yes?”

“Someone’s yelling for you.”

Asta leant forwards over the edge of the statue – Redbolt held on to her coat again – to see Fayn, Wygar, Inkfoot and a handful of blue-clad apprentices from the College gathered around Pardus and looking in all directions except up. Fayn cupped both hands around her mouth and shouted again, then shrugged and said something to Wygar that Asta couldn’t make out.

“Up here!” called Asta, waving one arm. They looked up at that; Inkfoot half-spread her wings, but folded them again at some comment from Fayn. Wygar nodded, stepped back, took a quick run-up, and clambered up the side of the statue as quick as a squirrel. He had abandoned his usual long blue coat in favour of a sleeveless shirt, baring his wiry, well-toned arms and the flowing blue tattoos on his shoulders. A couple of the apprentices giggled and nudged each other at the sight.

“I hope you’re wearing plenty of sun cream,” was Asta’s only response when he reached the top.

“Thought you were afraid of heights?” said Redbolt, his tail twitching.

“Yes, Fayn and I are both well-protected,” Wygar assured her. “And I’m afraid of flying,” he added to Redbolt. “I like heights just fine. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Redbolt shook his head to muffled laughter from the other gryphons. Wygar turned back to Asta. “Fayn and Inkfoot spotted your construct down there and were worried when they couldn’t see you anywhere.”

“Oh. Well, it’s very kind of them to be concerned, but I’m quite all right. Redbolt here carried me up so I’d have a better view of the ring toss.”

Redbolt rubbed the back of one talon against the scar on his face. “Thought she looked like she needed cheering up,” he mumbled.

“Inkfoot was right,” said Wygar, grinning. “You are an old softy.”

“Oh-ho-ho, you want to have that conversation again, boyo?”

“…You two clearly have some history together,” said Asta as Gull, Stoat and the rest of the gryphons quietly backed away.

“All journeyman warmages are put through a course of gryphon-riding practice,” said Wygar in an extremely neutral voice.

“You make it sound like some horrible torture,” said Redbolt. “‘Warmage’.”

“The good Flight Captain here is of the opinion that no mage who hasn’t actually been to war should be permitted call themself that,” said Wygar.

“I can see where he’s coming from,” said Asta slowly.

“Thank you!” said Redbolt.

“But if Stormhaven hasn’t seen an actual war in twenty years, surely there can’t be that many people in active service today who do fit that criteria.”

“Which is my point,” said Wygar. “But the way he goes on, you’d think I’d never even been in a playground fight!”

“Reckon you’re just going to have to agree to disagree on this one, lads,” Gull interrupted. “Look, the ref’s just dropping the last ring now.”

The referee hovered above the pitch at the exact midpoint between the two goalposts and released the ring from their talons. Immediately both teams lunged into action. One big pale-feathered gryphon with crest-feathers long enough to mark him as male even from that distance grabbed the ring in his beak and hurled it halfway across the pitch with a flick of his head. One of his teammates stretched out their talons to catch it, but before it even reached them a smaller, quicker player from the other team intercepted it and threw it in a high arc to one of their own teammates, who batted it further up with their tail. One player with pointed falcon-like wings, hovering above the fray like a kestrel, hooked their talons through the ring and beat their wings, flying for the goalpost, but the pale gryphon half-folded his wings and barged into them with his shoulder.

“Is that allowed?” asked Asta as the crowd gasped.

“Didn’t draw blood,” said Redbolt with a shrug.

The ring fell, but the pale gryphon’s teammate reclaimed it before it hit the ground and threw it to a player circling above the other goalpost. They caught it in their beak, passed it into their talons, and dropped it. The ring fell neatly over the post, the referee rang a bell to signal the end of the match, and the air exploded with gryphons cheering themselves hoarse.

“What was that team calling itself again?” asked Wygar over the uproar.

“They’re the Crag Shadows,” said Gull. “New team, they’ve never entered the Feather Fest tournament before, nobody thought they’d get this far – but look at them!”

The captain of the losing team touched beaks with the leader of the Crag Shadows – Asta presumed that was the equivalent of shaking hands – and led their team off the pitch as the victors lined up between the goalposts and looked up at the sky. Asta hadn’t noticed in the excitement, but everyone who had been flying overhead had landed, leaving just one imposing figure in the air.

Lady Starfeather, the chieftain of all the gryphons of Stormhaven, glided above the crowd and landed neatly on the pitch, settling on her haunches. The white tips on her otherwise jet-black feathers seemed to glitter in the sun, which had not yet begun turning red but was well past its zenith. The Crag Shadows bowed low, their beaks almost scraping the sand, before their captain straightened up and accepted the trophy – just a ring painted gold – from Starfeather’s talons. They touched beaks for the briefest of moments before Starfeather drew back and the team captain reared back on their hind legs, holding the ring above their head in both front claws.

The cheers that followed almost totally drowned out the sound of another gryphon landing on the statue’s head. “You all need to clear the summit,” she announced. Like Redbolt, she wore a tough canvas harness, but it was dyed a vivid shade of red with a strip of gold braid down one side of her collar and she wore a sort of ornamental diadem-helmet, its bands of polished steel framing her face. The brass chestpiece of her harness, almost big enough to count as a breastplate, was engraved with a five-pointed star framed by raised wings.

Redbolt stood up. “Time for the fledgling parade?” he asked. The newcomer nodded. “All right. Well, you all heard the Wing Guard – clear off, the lot of you!” Gull, Stoat and their friends took flight, leaving only Redbolt, Asta and Wygar on the statue’s head.

“Need a lift back down?” asked Redbolt wickedly. Wygar just scowled at him, nodded to Asta, and clambered down the side of the statue. “Ah, he knows I don’t really mean anything by it,” Redbolt added when he caught the disapproving look on Asta’s face.

“Does he, though?”

“Well… Hm. Hop back aboard and I’ll take you back to the ground, eh? Truth be told,” he added as they glided down from the statue, “if it came to a real fight between him and me, unless I caught him off-guard, I’d be ash. No illusions there.”

“Who, Wygar?” They reached the ground not far from where they had first taken off; Asta unbelted herself from Redbolt’s harness and dismounted. “I know he’s technically a warmage, but I see him around the College a lot; he’s really more of one of those harmless, slightly scatterbrained academic types.”

“Oh, really? Ask that harmless academic about his body count some time.”

“…You can’t be serious.”

“I watched his Master’s exam,” said Redbolt. “He turned a bladehound into a puddle of molten steel.”

“Wait, really? But those are-” Asta ran one hand back through her hair, attempting to reconcile that image with Wygar currently standing stoically as Inkfoot attempted to clean a smudge from his face with a handkerchief, much to the undisguised amusement of both Fayn and the apprentices. “That is… an odd idea to think about.” She shook her head as if to chivvy the thought away. “You said something to that guard about a ‘fledgling parade’?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s an old gryphon custom,” said Redbolt as they walked back over to Pardus and the others. Asta unbuckled the saddlebags from Pardus’s harness and dismissed the construct into its summoning stone. “Though ‘parade’ is putting it a bit strongly. Every Feather Fest, all the youngsters who’ve just finished growing their first lot of flight feathers gets presented to her Ladyship up on top of the statue.”

“It’s not mandatory,” said Inkfoot, tucking her handkerchief into one of her bags. “But a lot of families like to mark the occasion in some way – your first flight under your own power is a big milestone.”

Lady Starfeather took off from the game pitch and flew up to the statue’s head where she landed on top of the beak, in easy view of everyone watching from the beach below. Young fledgling gryphons – not much bigger than the chicks, but with proper structure to their wing feathers and the beginnings of their adult markings instead of fluffy grey down – fluttered up out of the crowd towards her. Each one was accompanied by an adult, perhaps a parent or an older sibling. Complete silence fell on the beach, even among the humans, as one by one the adults escorted the fledglings up to sit in front of their chieftain for a moment. With each one, Starfeather lowered her head to inspect them, made some statement that none of the watchers below could hear, and lightly touched her beak to theirs before they and their escort glided back down. A hint of orange had come into the sun by the end.

“I remember my presentation, years and years ago,” said Inkfoot once the last fledgling was back on the sand. Starfeather remained on the statue’s beak, lying down with her front claws folded over each other. “That wasn’t with Starfeather, of course – her uncle Lord Eclipse was in charge back then.”

Redbolt chuckled. “I remember old Eclipse! Now, there was a gryph with a sense of humour.”

“Wait,” said Wygar, rubbing the back of one hand against his face. “Lord Eclipse died in – Inkfoot, how old are you?”

“Ninety-seven,” said Inkfoot brightly.

“Have you told me that before?” said Fayn, wide-eyed. “I don’t think I knew that.”

“Neither did I, and you practically raised me from age twelve!” said Wygar.

“That’s a slight exaggeration,” said Inkfoot. “You did go back to your parents’ house every weekend.”

“Hundred and three over here,” put in Redbolt.

“…Huh.” Asta ran one hand through her hair. “You do give off a certain aura of ‘old soldier’,” she said to Redbolt, whose crest lifted slightly. “But I had no idea you were that old!”

“Well, you haven’t known me very long,” said Redbolt, waving his tail. “Should have another fiftyish in me, all going well.”

“Fayn, you’ve been in Stormhaven longer than I have,” said Asta. “Did you know gryphons could live to be that old?” Fayn shook her head.

“I knew that they could,” said Wygar. “I just didn’t know Inkfoot, specifically, was that old!”

Inkfoot just shrugged.

“If it makes you feel any less out of place,” said Fayn quietly as her husband quizzed Inkfoot for further details on the ages of the various gryphons he knew, “this is my first time at the festival too. Wygar talked me into it – I’m not fond of crowds, but I get on well with Inkfoot.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” asked Asta.

Fayn laughed, nodding. “She’s a likeable person. Besides, Wygar’s actually got more of a role to play this year than just attending.” She cleared her throat and stood forwards, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the bonfires?” she asked.

Wygar swore, prompting a chorus of “Ooooooh!” from the apprentices, and ran off.

“He’s quite a fast runner,” commented Asta.

“He is, isn’t he?” said Fayn with a fond smile as Inkfoot led the apprentices off to one of the food stalls. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t really have speeds between ‘stroll’ and ‘sprint’.”

“What was that about bonfires?” said Asta.

“That’s a human thing,” said Redbolt. “Before the first humans came to our land, we gryphons didn’t make much use of fire. But they have their own traditions for this time of year, so a bit got added into the festival. They light those big ones you can see along the beach at sunset,” now that he pointed them out, Asta could indeed see the wood and brush piled in heaps along the tideline, “and the littler ones in between. Folk line up to jump over the small ones for some reason.”

“Oh, Beltane!” said Asta. “Yes, I’ve read about that. It’s sort of a fertility-luck ritual thing. The fire-jumping, that is.”

“How is jumping over a fire going to help with fertility?” asked Redbolt.

“That’s… a good question,” said Fayn, frowning.

“I’m sure there’s some reasoning behind it,” said Asta. “It’s not really a Kiraani tradition – I’ll have to read up on it.”

People returned to their little camps along the beach, chatting amongst themselves, until finally the sun touched the horizon and Lady Starfeather got back to her feet, flanked by the Wing Guards in their red-and-gold uniforms. She spread her wings, took a deep breath, and roared out over the sea. The roar of a gryphon was a higher, shriller sound than that of a lion, but still deeper and more resonant than the cry of a hawk and far more impressive than the chirping of an eagle. Standing at the edge of the water, Wygar stretched up one arm at her call and clicked his fingers. A brilliant spark flared around his upraised hand and every one of the bonfires erupted with flame, instantly burning as hot and as bright as if they had already had hours to build up.

“He didn’t really need to do that,” said Fayn, clicking her own fingers. “That was just for show. He could’ve woken those fires with a thought.” Her voice was exasperated, but there was no disguising the pride in her smile.

“See what I meant?” said Redbolt to Asta, quietly enough that Fayn wouldn’t overhear. “Ash.” Asta nodded.

Wygar ran back over to them, and had just been dissuaded from explaining the precise technique he had used when Starfeather raised her wings for silence again and, once she had it, began to sing.

After more than a year in Stormhaven, Asta had heard many different sounds a gryphon’s voice could produce. She had heard them speak, roar, laugh and screech. She had never heard them sing. Starfeather’s voice was nothing like the high piping of birdsong; like her roar, it was a more resonant sound that reminded Asta curiously of drumming. Other gryphons took up the song, even Redbolt; humans, their voices incapable of the Gryphic words, had to settle for humming the melody. Soon it felt like almost everyone on the beach had joined in. Wygar had closed his eyes to listen; Fayn leant against his side and held his hand tightly.

Asta sat down on the sand, folding her arms around her shins as she listened. The lyrics meant nothing to her – she would have to ask someone for a translation – but the tune somehow conveyed a deep sense of renewal and belonging. Life goes on, the gryphons sang. We are a family, and we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

“Are you all right?” asked Redbolt once the song was over and Wygar and Fayn had gone to join the line of couples waiting to jump the fire.

Asta sat up, blinking. She hadn’t even realised she was crying until she lifted one hand and felt the tear-tracks down her face. A few different explanations came to mind, but somehow the only one that made it past her lips was the truth. “I want to go home,” she said quietly.

“Ah-hm.” Redbolt looked around. “Well… I can give you an escort, if you don’t want to go by yourself in the dark. Or you can maybe tag along with Inkfoot if she hasn’t already taken the apprentices back to the College. Where’s home?”

Asta thought. Her flat near Stormhaven’s northern wall didn’t even register; instead her mind went to the house where she had grown up back in Kiraan, then considered Lady MacArra’s fine manor overlooking the water in Duncraig, and finally settled on an old stone tower by the sea, where hens pecked through a little vegetable garden in the shelter of an outer wall and water horses rested on the rocks after dark. “A very long way from here,” she said, watching the fires.

“Ah. That kind of home.” Redbolt sighed and lay down on his front beside her. He laid Pardus’s saddlebags across his shoulders and took out Asta’s tea flask. It had held its temperature throughout the day and the tea was still hot. He handed it to Asta; she unscrewed the cap and poured herself a cup. “Tell me a bit more about your berserker.”

Asta sipped her tea. “She’s… Have you seen the portrait the museum has of Lady Meredith?” Redbolt nodded. “It reminds me of her. She’s tall, very tall, with long red hair she usually keeps in a braid and fair skin with hundreds of little freckles. Lots of tattoos on her face and her arms, and maybe more under her clothes.” She smiled. “And strong, too. Very nice arms. I expect she could pick me up like a kitten if the mood took her, but she was always gentle with me while I was staying with her. Her eyes are… Do you know Captain Steel, from the Curlew? They’re grey like hers, like… well, like steel. Piercing, is the word. Like they see right to the heart of you.

“She’s not always talkative – there’s a shyness there – but she always answered whatever questions I had and if I needed to talk, she listened. Really listened, not just sat in the same room while I spoke. I don’t think I’ve known anyone who listened to me like she did.” Asta took another sip. “The man I escaped from recaptured me after a month in her home and tried to take me back to his family’s castle near Duncraig.” Redbolt’s wings came up in a protective stance Asta recognised from Steel, though he didn’t seem aware he had reacted. “She killed him and his guards and put me on the next ship south – Curlew – to here, where I’d cross the border to freedom and be well out of reach if his family came looking for revenge. That – fighting the guards – was the only time I ever saw her go berserk. Maybe it should have scared me, but…”

“But you felt safe with her,” finished Redbolt.

Asta nodded. “I thought a lot about it on the journey south, and after I’d got settled here. Whether what I felt for her was real or if I’d just fixated on the first person to show me some kindness after… after a very trying period in my life.”

“And?”

“And… a lot of people have been kind to me since I got to Stormhaven. Surely those feelings would have faded by now if that was all there was to it.” She sighed and wrapped both hands more snugly around her cup. “What about you? Any romance in your life?”

“Nah, not for a long time.” Redbolt stretched out his front claws, curling his tail as far around one hind leg as it could go. “Even among gryphons, the ladies prefer a fellow with both eyes and all his toes.”

“Well, you’ve been very gallant with me today. I’m sure any lady would be lucky to have you.”

“Ah, well.” Redbolt scratched his remaining ear. “You looked like you could use an outrider for the day.”

“It was very kind of you.”

Redbolt folded his wings again. “I flew north once, a long, long time ago,” he said, watching the silhouettes around the fires. “Followed the coast all the way up to the great ice. Kept away from humans mostly – they’re not so used to us up there, or at least they weren’t back then – but I ran into the odd hunting party or trade caravan in the Sea Lochs, up in the hills or out on the water. Seemed a nice place to live – peaceful, even in the towns.” He sighed. “I’m no seer to go telling the future, but… I have a feeling you’ll find your way back one day.”

“I certainly hope so. I’m just… Not entirely sure when.”

“Give it time, and keep your eyes open,” advised Redbolt. “You never know when you’ll get your chance.”

Asta finished her tea and packed the flask back in the saddlebag. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything you’ve done today.”

Redbolt nodded. “Do you want an escort back to wherever you’re staying?” he asked. “A lot of folk just sleep on the beach – Wygar and Fayn would probably let you share their camp if you want to stay until morning.”

“I’m sure they would,” said Asta, “but I wouldn’t like to impose. I think I’d rather go back to my flat, if you really wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s no trouble.” Redbolt stood, stretched, and looked back at his wings. “Though I don’t think I have it in me to fly you all the way there. You ride your construct and I’ll follow.”

The road back to the city was well-lit with lampposts every fifty feet, but it was still reassuring to have Redbolt prowling alongside Pardus while Asta rode at a walk or soaring above when she spurred the construct into a run. The sky was fully dark by the time Asta reined Pardus in outside 103 North Wall Street and climbed down from the saddle.

“Where do you stay, out of interest?” she asked as she removed the saddlebags and dismissed Pardus.

“Got a nice cosy eyrie up in Gryphonroost,” said Redbolt, flicking his beak in the general direction of the gryphons’ traditional home beneath the Crag. “Reward for my long service – don’t you worry about me.” He gave another little salute, tapping one talon against his scar. “Could show you around some time, if you haven’t been up to the tunnels yet.”

Asta smiled, lifting the saddlebags onto one shoulder. “I’d like that, actually. Maybe next Starsday?”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the west ramp around noon?”

“I’ll see you there.”

“Sleep well, then.” With a last nod, he took flight and vanished into the dark. Asta let herself into the stairwell and climbed to her flat on the third floor. All things considered, it had been a rather interesting day.

---

Asta gets on rather well with gryphons - once she’s used to them she finds them less intimidating than other humans - and in return they’re quite protective of her. Gryphons in general have a tendency to go ‘is anyone gonna adopt that’ and then not wait for an answer, even if the object of their interest is a grown adult in their late twenties. Redbolt made a passing comment once about how easy it had been to fly carrying her (she’s 5′5″, a fairly average height for a woman, but she is quite slim; Roan could indeed pick her up like a kitten) and the others got very concerned she wasn’t eating enough and started offering her snacks.

Further gryphon trivia:

The corners of a gryphon’s beak can curve up enough to mimic a human-style smile, but it isn’t a natural expression for them. They generally only do it if they’re trying to put a human at ease (or freak them out, whichever). A natural ‘smile’ for a gryphon is lightly flicking the tip of their tail from side to side, while waving their entire tail from side to side is a more effusive ‘grin’. Redbolt missing half of his tail means that other gryphons sometimes view him as much more stern than he really is.

Leadership among the gryphons is hereditary up to a point. That point is when the others decide that the current chief isn’t doing a good enough job and they elect someone new. Lady Starfeather’s family line have been in charge since her grandmother (Eclipse’s mother).

Although gryphons are longer-lived than humans - a hundred and fifty years is a fairly average lifespan - they mature more quickly; a ten-year-old gryphon is physically and emotionally an adult, roughly equivalent to a twenty-year-old human.

Redbolt was originally called Goshawk from his wing markings. ‘Redbolt’ is essentially a nom de guerre that people started using consistently enough that it just became his nom de paix as well. Lord Eclipse was named such not for any markings but because he was such a huge gryphon that people used to joke he blocked out the sun whenever he took flight.

#az writes stories

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

Text

Cetzu (Reptilian Changeling)

Rating: General Relationship: Male Changeling/Human Woman Additional Tags: Exophilia, Lizardfolk, Changeling, Interspecies Romance, Monster Boyfriend Words: 4356

Part 1 of 5 commissioned by @ivymemnoch! A woman selling her father's merchandise has several issues as a lone person out on the road and decides to hire help. She's directed to Declan's farm to recruit a bodyguard. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

When you decided to venture out on your own, you knew there would be hurdles and dangers, but you had no idea how bad it could be for a lone woman on the road.

Your father was a carpenter, specializing in sturdy, well-built pieces of furniture, like tables, chairs, chests, cabinets, and the like, and when you became old enough, you asked if you could help. You weren’t much of a carver yourself, as you were rather clumsy, but you could handle horses and drive a cart and covered wagon, so you offered to make his deliveries for him and set up a stall in various towns so that he wouldn’t be distracted from his work. After all, some of the pieces could take a week or more to make, and if he was gone to deliver his wares, he had less time to make them.

He was nervous about letting his only child go out into the world by herself, but you told him that you could take care of yourself. It took some convincing on your part. You were tall and well built, but you’d always been a little on the shy side and not what people would call a fighter. Although you were quick to warm up to people once you got to know them a bit, actually approaching them had never been your strong suit. You were also awkward and clumsy and prone to accidents. It was a hard sell, but he eventually agreed.

It hadn’t gone as well as you’d hoped. The first time you went out, the entire wagon had been stolen while you’d gone in the woods to pee. The second time, you’d sold the merchandise like you were supposed to, but as you camped, bandits attacked and stole all your money at knife-point. On your way home, you’d heard tales from others about women who’d been taken in addition to the money and goods, sometimes never to be seen again and the ones that had been found wished they were dead. It scared you a little more than you liked to admit and it was at this point you decided you needed to hire help.

You stopped in Willowridge for the evening, which was larger and more busy since the last time you and your father had come through. At the tavern, you paid for a room and care for your wagon and asked the barkeeper where you could find someone big and beefy to scare off potential bandits.

With a sly grin, she said, “There was a farm in the woods where you might find such help.”

“On a farm?” You asked, uncertain.

“Oh, yes,” She said, cleaning out a mug. “Believe it or not, our highly lauded town’s sheriff, Feera, came from there. These are very helpful folk. Ask for Declan. He’ll take good care of you.”

“How do I find it? Is it hidden?”

“A bit, but look for the nectar flowers planted by the roadside. They’ll lead you to the farm.”

After a night at the inn, you hitched up your horse, got up on your wagon, and headed where the barkeep had told you to go. She said by wagon at a decent trot, it would take only an hour by road. Dubious but curious at the same time, you nudged your horse to the left, down the road toward the farmhouse and out of the town.

Sure enough, about an hour’s ride down the road, you found trumpet honeysuckle climbing up the trees and purple coneflowers and milkweed lining the road. As you got past the last bush, which had a little green hummingbird flitting here and there, you saw a smaller path branching off the main road, leading farther into the woods. Clicking your tongue and snapping the left rein, the horse turned and pull the wagon down this new unknown path. In no time at all, you saw a very large farmhouse and a similarly large barn just beyond it.

It was spring, so planting season was in full swing. You saw two centaurs hitched to plows, one piebald and one solid russet, pulling rows. Behind the tawny one, there were two cervitaurs, one male adult and one female child. The adult was steering one of the plows, while the little one watched him closely. He seemed to be giving her quiet, gentle instructions.

The second plow was being driven by a young, plump human woman with a third tiny cervitaur dancing around her legs, stumbling once or twice. Strangely, this cervitaur had two legs rather than four. You’d never seen that before. Though in fairness, it wasn’t all that common to see cervitaurs in the first place, as cruel, bigoted humans saw them as little more than animals and hunted them for sport.

Following behind the plows was a gnoll and another creature you’d never seen before, like a centaur but a dog on bottom, both using thick sticks to press holes into the rows at predetermined intervals and dropping seeds into them. Behind them was another human, though you couldn’t tell if they were male or female, as they had they had a very androgynous appearance, and a female faun. They were closing the holes and watering the spots with watering cans.

Clothing seemed to be optional here. Both of the humans wore clothes--one in a dress and the other in trousers--but very few of the others did. The only other creature in the planting field that wore clothing was the small cervitaur girl, who wore a green bolero jacket and a matching ribbon in her hair. The female faun was nude, and while everything below her waist was covered in oak-brown fur, her breasts were uncovered. You felt a vague sense of social mortification, but pushed it away when you realized no one else seemed to care.

Beyond the planting field, you saw an orchard of fruit trees, and among them were even more figures working. You saw two large bat creatures, a harpy, a kitsune, and a lizardman. They were all unclothed except the lizardman, who wore short trousers that were modified to accommodate his tail, and the smaller, redder of the two bat creatures, who wore a necklace of stones around its neck. There were also two more human women among them, wearing sensible pants and shirts. The winged creatures were up in the trees, pruning the dead or weak branches, while the others were fertilizing the soil at the base of the trees, raking and watering and spreading mulch.

You slowed your wagon to a stop near the front of the house and stepped down from the driver’s box onto the wood of the porch. You felt a little overwhelmed and weren’t sure which of the people to approach. Which one was Declan? Should you go right to him first? Was there some sort of hierarchy, someone you was supposed to talk to before you could meet with Declan?

Thankfully, before you could fret too much, an older human woman and the larger of the two bat creatures came walking up to the porch.

“Hello there, traveler!” The woman said, raising her arm in greeting. “What can we do for you?”

“I, um… I was told to find Declan?” You said uncertainly, wringing your hands a little. “I need help.”

“I’m Declan,” The bat creature said in a serious tone, stepping forward on all fours. Even crouched as he was, he was taller than you. “Are you alright? Has something happened to you? We can protect you, if that’s the case.”

Realizing how your words sounded, you clarified; “Oh, no, no, I’m fine. It’s just… I’m a merchant, and I’ve been having trouble with bandits stealing my merchandise. I was told you would know someone I could hire to guard me and my wagon on the road while I’m traveling.”

“Oh, I see!” The woman said. “You know, this sounds like a perfect job for Cetzu.”

“I think you might be right, Ryel,” Declan said. “I’ll go and fetch him.” And he wandered back toward the orchard.

The woman, Ryel, stepped up to the porch and asked your name, shaking your hand in the process. “I keep telling Cetzu he should sell his trinkets at market, but he keeps using the excuse that we need him on the farm. I think he’s just being shy.”

“I can relate,” You said, chuckling a little. “What sort of trinkets does he make?”

“Little carvings out of wood and bone. Jewelry boxes, children’s toys, figurines, amulets, religious totems, all sorts of things. He’s an artist, though he’d never admit it.”

“Oh,” You replied, marveling. “My father is a carpenter and woodcarver, too, and he does very good, sturdy work, but he’s not much of an artist.” You pointed to the wagon that had some of your father’s work on it, and Ryel went over to inspect it. You were proud of your father’s work, but you had to admit it was a little plain to the eye.

“You’re right,” Ryel said appraisingly. “It is very solid work, if a little rustic. Cetzu might be able to help with that.” She pointed at a little side table. “How much would you charge for that? My daughter Lymera’s birthday is coming up,” She pointed out to the faun still working the field. “And I’d like to build her a shrine to her patron deity so she feels close to him while she’s home. She’s a priestess in training, you see.”

Daughter? You looked at the faun again. She was a full-blooded faun, how could she be this human woman’s daughter?

As you were negotiating a price, Declan returned with the lizardman in tow. He was tall, taller than you by at least two feet, and barrel-chested with a slim waist. His eyes were like pitted silver, deep and reflective, with slitted pupils. His face was slightly elongated with his teeth settled on the outside of his lips like an alligator, alternating between upper and lower on the sides with the front of his snout toothless. His hands ended in four wickedly curved talons, though the toes on his digitigrade feet were straighter, though still sharp, allowing him to walk without difficulty. His tail was long and flat, looking like the tail of some sort of sea serpent.

His muscles were huge and broad and moved smoothly under his skin, with thick, wide scales across his back, looking sharp, but steadily shrunk in size as they drift inward toward his stomach and chest and down his arms and legs until it almost looked like smooth leather. The scales on his back were black with a silver one here and there, but his belly was white.

“Ah, here he is,” Ryel said, jumping down from the high porch, more spry than her age would suggest. “This young lady has come requesting help with her cargo. I thought you’d be perfect for the job.”

You were a little intimidated by his size and gulped. He also seemed a little awkward, fidgeting and not meeting your eye.

“Oh, stop being so shy,” Ryel said. “Shake the girl’s hand, at least, and introduce yourself.”

He looked down at your hands, and then his own. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mama,” He said, his voice rough and gravelly. It surprised you to hear such a coarse voice call this woman Mama. “I don’t want to scare the poor lady any more than she already is.”

“No… it’s alright,” You said, a little more meekly than you would have liked, and extended a hand carefully.

After a moment’s hesitation, he took your hand, but only applied the barest amount of pressure, careful not to catch your skin with his claws, and let go immediately.

“I’m Cetzu,” He said quietly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You replied, and told him your name.

“Well, now that we’re acquainted, let’s go inside and talk,” Ryel said, taking her… son… by the arm and leading him inside. He seemed reluctant, but allow her to pull him along. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” You replied. “But I should unhitch the horse first.”

“Sure thing, lass. Do you need help?”

“Oh, no ma’am,” You replied. “I can do this myself. Where should I take him to rest?”

“There’s a hitching post near the barn that’s got fresh hay and water,” She said, pointing at the big barn. “Feel free to come inside the house when your done. The tea will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” You said, and started with the harness. After you managed to get the horse free from the wagon and lead it to the watering trough, tying it to the post there. You could feel the others in the fields eyeing you a little, but not paying that much attention. You had a feeling random guests showing up out of nowhere was a regular thing here.

As you stepped back onto the porch and approached the open door, you heard a conversation between Cetzu and Ryel.

“Honey, you know your father and I would never push you into doing anything you didn’t want to do, but this is an amazing opportunity for you! Your work is amazing and the world should see it!”

“But you need me to help with the planting--”

“Cetzu, you can’t keep using the farm as an excuse. Between Laefa’s brood and Rantha’s family, we have plenty of hands to handle the spring work.” Her voice became soft. “I know the outside scares you, and I understand. Everyone that lives in this forest understands. Not one of us hasn’t had some horrible experience outside of this haven. You know the story of how your father and I met. You know the gnolls’ story, and the centaurs, and Caeli’s and Yala’s and Reed’s and Sayo’s. We’re all runaways, cast-offs, and survivors. But you have a talent no one else on this farm has and that shouldn’t be hidden away.”

“I only have talent because of what I am,” Cetzu grumbled sourly.

“So what?” Ryel retorted. “That’s like saying Soraya, Sayo, and your father can fly only because they have wings. It’s the simple truth, nothing more, and the same goes for you. There’s nothing wrong with who you are, my boy, any more than there is with any of your family. You are made how you are made and there’s nothing wrong with that. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama,” He replied mechanically. It sounded like he’d heard this speech innumerable times.

“Give it thought, love,” Ryel said. “You have potential and opportunity. I don’t want you to look back with regret someday because you didn’t act on it.”

Cetzu sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Ryel said. “Now help me with the tea.”

You heard dishes clinking and decided to stop shamelessly eavesdropping and go inside. Cetzu nodded at you politely as he exited the house to continue helping with the pruning of the fruit trees.

You sold Ryel the table and helped her stash it away out of sight as it was meant to be a surprise, and she insisted you stay for lunch with the family. Strangely, or perhaps appropriately considering the motley crew that lived here, meals were not taken in the house, but in the barn.

The barn itself was built like a half stable, half house, with a kitchen area, common lounging space, and a storage loft above the stalls. A large table was placed in the space between the stalls, which were larger than average animal stalls and served as bedrooms for the four-legged family members, complete with large sleeping cushions on the floor with blankets and shelves built onto the walls to hold personal effects. The stalls had solid doors rather than gates, and they all had locks on them for privacy.

Lunch was a variety of foods, including dried and fresh cooked meat, dried and preserved fruits, and spring vegetables. You noticed that while a few of the family were omnivorous, some members only ate meat, some only ate vegetables, and the bats only ate the fruit. You were able to meet his family and learn their names, though you didn’t ask about how they all came to be here. You imagine the stories couldn’t have been happy ones if all these various creatures had somehow come to call a human woman and a giant bat creature mother and father.

After lunch, you took your horse, Jackdaw, behind the barn, where there was an actual stable for mounts and work animals. He was due for a good brush down, and as you were working, you saw the lizardman, Cetzu, coming out of the forest carrying a yolk on his shoulders with six large buckets of water slung on it. As intimidated as you were by him, the raw, brute strength of his body made you raise an eyebrow.

He nodded again as he passed you, and you debated with yourself for a long moment before calling out, “wait.”

He stopped and turned his head to look at you. “Do you need help?” He asked.

“No,” You replied, gulping down your heart and gathering your courage. “No, but… I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment? If you’re not too busy? I--I mean, I can see--I know you’re in the middle of something, so I can wait--”

“No, it’s alright,” He said, pushing the yolk off of his shoulders and carefully setting the buckets down. “What can I do for you, miss?”

“I--I was wondering… could I… if it’s alright with you… could I see your carvings?” You sort of shrugged your shoulders up around your ears, which you tended to do when you were nervous. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh,” He said, surprised. “Oh. Sure. Lemme just…” He motioned at the water.

“Yes, of course,” You replied. He shouldered the yolk again and took it inside the house, emptying the buckets into a reservoir in the bathing room. He then stored the buckets and yolk on a hook in a closet.

“There are some in here,” He said, leading you to the common area. “Mother displays the ones she likes best.”

In the room, you saw a few shelves on the wall that held a number of different carvings, from animals to plants to symbols. The one that caught your eye the most was a monarch butterfly carved of bone, life-sized, with wings carved so thin that light passed through them.

“Wow,” You breathed. “Is it alright if I pick one up?”

“Yes,” He said, watching you with slight apprehension.

You picked up the butterfly and examined it closely. You could see the segments of the legs, the veins in the wings, the thin antennae and proboscis. It looked as if a real butterfly had somehow been turned to bone.

“This is absolutely beautiful,” You told him in wonder.

“Thank you,” He said, ducking his head bashfully.

You replaced the butterfly back on the shelf and sighed. “I know you’re reluctant to leave here, and I get it. I really do. I was scared to death to leave home, too. You have this big, amazing family, but back home, it’s just me and dad, and I just want to help him.”

You turned to him and looked into his face earnestly. “Look, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’m not very good at much. I can’t carve like my dad can. I’m clumsy and prone to knocking things over and accidentally injuring myself. I’m not artistic or coordinated. I can’t cook or sew all that well. I’m not much use to my dad, or to anyone, really. But I’m good with horses, and I can drive a cart and a wagon. I figured I could sell and deliver his goods so that he didn’t have to travel as much, but I’ve managed to cock that up, too. The first shipment was taken, wagon and all, and I had to walk home with nothing but the clothes on my back. I was held at knifepoint while bandits stole every penny I had. There are horrible tales about awful things that can happen to women who travel on their own, and… I’m scared. I’m scared to do this alone. I need help.”

He listened quietly, not interrupting. “From me?”

You held out your hands in an I don’t know gesture. “How about this: come with me on this one trip. I’m selling bits that my dad made that weren’t commissioned at market in Coleville. Coleville is a day’s ride from here. We’ll stay in Coleville for three days, and you can sell your pieces along with my dad’s furniture. Hell, I’ll let you use one of Dad’s tables to display them. Then you escort me home with whatever money I’ve earned or goods I have left. At the end, if you decide you absolutely hate it, that it’s just something you can’t do, then we part ways, no hard feelings.”

“And in the unlikely event I actually enjoy it?” He asked.

“Then when I need to hire you on again, I’ll send you a letter and you meet me at my home, and we’ll go on another trip. I won’t keep you away from your family or anything. You only have to escort me when I’m out selling or making deliveries.”

He looked at the shelf that held his creations on it in contemplation before looking back at you.

“Can you give me a day to think it over?” He asked.

“Of course,” You said. “It’s your choice. But… even if you say no, thank you… for listening.”

He nodded and attempted a smile, though you could tell he was feeling nervous. You passed him to go back outside and finish brushing down Jackdaw when Cetzu called out to you.

“Wait,” He said softly. “If I don’t go, what will you do?”

You laughed a little helplessly. “Give up? Go home with my tail between my legs. Find some other way to not burden my father any more than I already do. Maybe marry some man before he finds out how useless I am. I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Shrugging, you left the room and walked out of the house back to the stable.

Ryel and Declan were happy to put you up for the night at no charge. You got a room to yourself; most of the rooms seemed to be for visitors. Caeli and Soraya, who were married, you learned, had their own room. Sayo and Lymera bunked together. All the two legged boys slept in a pile in one room, which you thought was adorable. Laefa, the other older woman helping with the orchard, had gone home to her husband and twelve children. So many people. You wondered what it would have been like to have such a big family like this. Frowning to yourself about dwelling on what ifs, you turned over and tried to sleep.

The next morning as you were coming out of your room to head down to breakfast, you accidentally bumped into Cetzu on the way out of his room, knocking you to the floor.

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry!” You said, rubbing the back of your head. “I told you I was clumsy.”

“I should be apologizing,” He said, reaching to help you up. “I should have watched where I was going.”

He pulled you up with one hand, and it’s only then you noticed the large trunk he was holding on his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“Oh,” He looked at it, then you, then away. “I’ve packed.”

“Really?” You said, naked hope in your voice. “You’ll come?”

“You need help,” He said. “Mama and Papa always tell us that helping people is the best use of our strengths. I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“I understand,” You said. “I’m glad you’re coming. I didn’t know where else to go for help.”

“I’m happy to be of use,” He said.

You sighed heavily. “You know, I’ve lived secluded with my dad for most of my life. He’s a bit of a hermit and doesn’t leave the house unless he has to, so I know what it’s like to be isolated and scared of going out into the world, but I didn’t want to be underfoot all the time. I wanted to be of use. You’re helping me do that, and I’m really grateful.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he sort of bowed a little and continued down the stairs.

After breakfast, Cetzu loaded his trunk into the back of your wagon as you hitched Jackdaw back into his harness. Cetzu dropped down to say goodbye to his family, putting his little kitsune brother on his shoulder. His shoulders seemed able to carry anything.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Ryel said, pulling him into a hug, though with her height, she could only hug him around the waist. He put his large arms around her and hugged her tight.

“As am I,” Declan said. “You’re braver than I am, Cetzu. I’ve not left this farm since I met your mother. I’m happy here, but the world is bigger than our home. You should see it.”

Cetzu heaved a big sigh and nodded. “I can’t promise I’ll like it, but I’ll try to make you proud.”

“You already do,” Declan said.

Cetzu hugged all of his siblings, except for Sayo, who he ruffled the feathers on her head, making her hiss and swipe at him. He chuckled and snapped back at her.

Ryel surprised you by giving you a hug as well. “Take care of him for me, would you?” She said into your ear. “He’s special.”

“I’ll try, ma’am,” You said softly.

“Good.”

You got up into the driver’s box, and Cetzu popped up next to you. You snapped the reins and Jackdaw started forward. The two of you disappeared down the road to a chorus of people shouting their goodbyes.

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wedreamerz · 5 years

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The Island of Maravu - Chapter 2

The Island of Maravu

Chapter 2 - The Bunker

Pairing: Starker AU (Peter is 22)

Rated: Overall: E / Chapter: T

Status: WIP

Summary: The Avengers are in shambles and Tony Stark just needs to get out from under the fallout. So, he does what every genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist does - he buys an island. Maravu is just the escape Tony is looking for until one morning a beautiful young man arrives with secrets and a smile that makes Tony’s broken heart beat again.

Some Tags: AU, A little angst, Smut and Fluff is the goal here people but I can’t just do that apparently without backstory and plot. No real trigger warnings that I can think of unless water or storms are an issue for you. If you run into something I didn’t think of, let me know.

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~

The birds hated him. They were in cahoots. Thirty-three days on Maravu and the birds woke him up before the sun every freaking morning. Tony stirred, rolled over and scowled at the open window. They were at it again.

He groaned and put a pillow over his head.

"Friday, play something loud."

"Playing your Something Loud playlist," Friday said. Tony rolled his eyes, noting the amusement in her voice before the opening guitar riff of Def Leppard's Photograph blasted through the speakers.

The cabin, a simple, but cozy one-room affair with a fireplace, sofa, kitchenette and dining room table, suited him perfectly. One of the two luxury items he'd insisted upon, besides Friday and the technical upgrades he'd made, was the queen-sized bed that dominated the bedroom area of the cabin. He'd have flown in a king if it would have fit. But even the queen was pushing it.

The cabin came equipped with an attached bathroom and shower. But Tony had grown accustomed to showering in the original, outdoor shower that ran using accumulated rainwater. Something about showering outside in the sun brought out the hedonist in him.

During his first week on Maravu, Tony installed a self-sustained arc reactor to solve the electricity problem and ensured they’d had fast reliable wi-fi. The plantation resumed operation the following week with Mr. Umbari as manager. Tony liked the huge mountain of a man. They worked well together and at the end of a long day, he often sought out his calming presence at the community fire that burned in the village's center courtyard most evenings.

They would talk about the day and share a drink before retiring. Tony liked to watch him talk, his expressive, deeply lined face and white, wiry hair and beard that stood up as though it had a mind of its own. Mr. Umbari had learned to speak English by watching episodes of old American shows like MASH and Happy Days and Tony found himself smiling when now and then he recognized a familiar phrase. When the reactor went live, Mr. Umbari had celebrated by giving Tony the double Fonzie thumbs before dragging him into a chest busting hug.

For the most part, the islanders didn't intrude on Tony’s solitude. Mr. Umbari was a fair and able leader, so Tony didn't get involved in the day to day operations unless they needed him. But periodically he'd be working in the lab he’d set up near his cabin and hear someone call out "Turaga Ni Kaukamea!" Tony would look outside to see someone emerge from the trees and request his assistance at the plantation.

Mr. Umbari addressed him as Mr. Stark even after Tony had invited him to call him by his first name. But the rest of the islanders called him Turaga Ni Kaukamea or sometimes just Kaukamea. Friday had translated it as basically Man of Iron.

So, they were aware of who he was. But no one ever asked to see the suit or wondered why he'd chosen to live on the island when it was clear his own house was in such disarray. They didn't bring it up at all. They expressed their gratitude in humble ways and treated him like anyone else on the island, which was perfect with Tony.

He peeked out from under his pillow to find that the sky has lightened into a midnight blue with the faint orange glow of dawn creeping up behind the windowsill.

"Okay, okay. Stop the music and start the coffee," he said, giving in. "And play me something tropical.”

"You do realize that the current temperature is 76 degrees with a humidity of 94%?" Friday asked as the sound of steel drums and ukulele began.

"My body still thinks it's December in New York, don't judge me," Tony snarked back, smiling when the coffee pot came to life. The rich aroma of the local blend infused his little cabin as the sun crested the horizon.

Tony threw back the sheet and stretched. He drew a deep breath and padded naked across the wood floor to the little kitchenette that consisted of the smallest stove he'd ever seen, a microwave, and a refrigerator that was straight out of the '70s in avocado green. The fanciest thing in the kitchen was his second luxury item – his beloved Concordia espresso machine.

He poured a cup into one of the chipped mugs that had come with the place and took it outside to the fire pit he'd built in the dooryard. His cabin was far enough away from the beach to be safe from the tide but close enough that his view from the fire was the perfect place to watch the sun come up. Tony lit the fire and settled into his camp chair with his coffee to do just that.

Although he tried to focus on his plans for the day, his mind wandered down paths he preferred to avoid. He tried not to spend his time worrying about the wayward Avengers, Rhodey, and the countless ways he had and continued to fail Pepper. But in those quiet moments when it was just him and the traitorous birds, Tony let it in.

He rubbed his chest. Like a phantom limb, it ached as it had for months after his last meeting with Steve.

And Barnes.

Tony sighed. Pepper had insisted he see a shrink after everything went down. He'd gone - a couple of times. But he still couldn't talk about it. Hell, he couldn't even think about it without igniting the flame of resentment and hatred. Logically he understood that Barnes had been brainwashed by Hydra. He was no more responsible for his actions than Clint had been for what he'd done when under the power of Loki's scepter.

Nevertheless, here Tony was. If Barnes were to materialize before him, Tony would probably try to bash his head in with a coconut.

Probably. Maybe.

Barnes may have the benefit of Tony’s doubt, the mind-controlled pass. But Steve...Cap…he’d made his choices all on his own. Tony oscillated between hope and fear that the big, stubborn man would get caught. He had no idea what he would say to the man if he ever saw him again. But he had the little burner phone Steve had mailed to Tony Stank tucked into his sock drawer nonetheless.

The temperature had risen just a little. On the horizon, Tony spied a rain cloud, one of those slow-moving clouds you could watch approach with its sheets of rain that blanketed the island at least once a day.

He frowned.

"Friday, what's the weather supposed to be like today?"

"Fair in the morning with severe thunderstorms rolling in at approximately 1:34 P.M."

"I suppose I should get started then," he said, gulping down the rest of his coffee. He put the mug in the sink and fished a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser. It was time to check on the arc reactor.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Boss, the Fiji Meteorological Society has issued a tropical storm warning with potential for rotation in this area and is expected it hit earlier than expected," Friday warned.

Tony crawled out from under the arc reactor's electronics panel and adjusted his glasses.

"How bad?" he asked, wiping his hands on a towel. He peered up at the doughnut-shaped reactor housing. The walls of the cave in which he'd built it flickered blue and purple as it purred softly.

There was a certain amount of poetic justice in this, he thought. He'd started this in a cave. And now here he was again, minus the car battery and armed guards. And this arc reactor was designed only to help.

Tony climbed a small set of metal stairs, freshly painted safety yellow, which led to the ground floor. He opened a set of doors and entered the circular antechamber where islanders could look through the reinforced glass at the arc reactor below. They'd installed bunker doors at the mouth of the cave for emergencies. But they were usually left open to the public. The reactor itself was locked and protected by Friday. No one entered without Tony's knowledge.

Outside, the palm trees swayed and here and there little puffs of dirt from the path twisted into the air with leaves and rocks. Tony had been in the reactor bunker for a few hours and the wind had picked up considerably.

"Radar indicates wind speed of approximately 22 miles per hour. No active rotation," Friday said.

Tony chewed his lip and considered the news. When he'd moved in, Mr. Umbari had gone over their storm preparedness plan. The island had a storm bunker for its inhabitants. As though he'd summoned the man, Mr. Umbari and his orange menace of a golf cart sped around the corner. He slid in next to Tony's red cart, barely missing the tail end as he turned the sharp corner. Tony chuckled and shook his head as Mr. Umbari unfolded his long legs and climbed out from under the orange and white striped canopy. He hurried toward the bunker as the first drops of rain plip-plopped against his yellow rain slicker. As soon as he saw Tony Mr. Umbari grinned and waved. Tony ushered him inside and hit the button to close the bunker doors.

"Mr. Stark. The boys said you were here," Mr. Umbari said, entering through the single door.

"Yeah, I was just checking on the reactor, giving her a tune-up. Friday says we've got a storm on the way?"

Mr. Umbari had been introduced to the AI and he seemed completely charmed by her.

He smiled at the ceiling. "Hello, Ms. Friday. Thank you for keeping Mr. Stark so informed."

"It's my pleasure, Sir," she answered in her pleasant Irish lilt earning a grin from Mr. Umbari.

"Unfortunately, Ms. Friday is correct, Sir. Since this is your first storm on the island, I wanted to make sure that you were safe."

"Thanks for your concern. I'll finish up here and go down to the cabin, batten down the hatches and be in the bunker in time for dinner, Dad." Tony smiled at the large man as he put away his tools."

Mr. Umbari laughed, deep and genuine. "Good, good. I'm glad to hear it. I hear that Skillet has already begun a pot of lamb stew for the occasion."

Tony's stomach growled at the thought of food and he realized he hadn't eaten yet today.

"Skillet's cooking?" Tony asked and Mr. Umbari grinned.

"If Skillet's in the kitchen I'm not gonna miss it," Tony said.

Kitchen wizard and culinary school dropout, Skillet worked the plantation to help pay off his student loans. But one meal at Skillet's table told Tony that the young Fijian was wasting his talents.

Tall, whip-thin, with long black curls he kept up in a messy bun most days, the kid could cook rings around the overpriced chefs at any of the five-star Manhattan restaurants. Tony had offered to pay his debt and set him up in a spot of his own, wherever he wanted. But Skillet turned him down every time.

Tony, being Tony, had been trying to come up with a loophole that kid would accept to no avail. But he had one final trick up his sleeve he planned to save until the right moment. As Tony's chef, Skillet would both pay down his debt and have his talents recognized by the top critics around the world at the events Tony threw. It was a win-win for both of them.

Mr. Umbari nodded, evidently pleased with Tony's response.

"Good. Good. I should go to make sure the animals are safe. I will see you there, my friend! Goodbye, Ms. Friday," he said.

Tony smiled, amused at the way the islanders treated everything with a relaxed acceptance. Even in the face of a potentially damaging storm, they prepared for a gathering of families.

"See you there."

~~~~~~~~~~

Tony stepped into the storm bunker and was immediately enveloped in the delicious aroma of stew and fresh bread. He breathed in deeply and looked around the room, impressed by the setup. The bunker looked like a basement with concrete walls and floors. A bar and small kitchen stood on the right side of the room where Skillet was working his magic. The left side was lined with padded seats. They'd made the cold, grey room into a warm and comfortable place to gather with tapestries on the walls, and woven rugs and pillows on the floors.

"Turaga ni kaukamea!" several children called and swarmed, reaching up to be held and tugging him toward the group of adults who sat at the tables lined up end to end in the center of the room.

"Oh hey!" he exclaimed when a little girl who couldn't be more than four climbed him like a palm tree. The adults laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He sat down in one of the folding chairs and held her on his lap.

"Kaukamea, what are you building in your lab? Filipe says you have a ghost and you talk to it. Does it help you build things?" she asked.

"Who told you that?"

The little girl pointed to a boy with bronze skin and wide, curious eyes. He looked up at Tony in fascination from the safety of his mother's arms.

"Filipe?" Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. The boy nodded dramatically.

"And what's your name?" Tony asked the girl.

"Sara," she said.

"Nice to meet you, Sara and Filipe. It just so happens that I am currently working on some upgrades to the arc reactor technology that runs the island. Have you seen the new bunker?"

All the children nodded in unison.

"So, if...and Filipe, I'm looking at you here… IF someone were sneaking around my lab, they may have heard me talking to Friday, who is not a ghost. She's more like a really, really smart computer who can talk."

"Is she smarter than you?" Sara asked, wide-eyed.

"Well...technically, yes. I built her. But I taught her to learn. She has access to all the information on the internet. So, she knows like...everything."

"Woooow," the children chorused.

"Right? She’s crazy smart.”

"Kaukamea, can we meet Friday?” Sara asked. "I have a computer at home. But it's never spoken to me before. Do you think if I brought it over, Friday could teach it how to talk?"

The children murmured their agreement, each of them wanting Friday to teach their computers to talk too. Tony noticed that the adults had stopped what they were doing to listen to the conversation.

Tong chuckled. "Unfortunately, your home computers aren't quite as smart as Friday. But if it's okay with your parents, you can come by the lab to meet Friday. But listen, it's super important that if you come to visit me that you don't go into the lab by yourself. You never know what I'm working on. And it could be dangerous. Do you all understand?"

The children agreed and ran off to play. The adults chuckled and resumed their conversations. Sara wiggled down from his lap and grabbed Filipe's hand.

"I told you there wasn't a ghost," she said.

"Well, it sounded like a ghost," he said.

"Sorry about that," one of the women said, taking a seat next to Tony. "The children are so curious about you. I'm Delana, Sara's mother." She held out her hand and Tony shook it with a smile. Delana was a little younger than Tony with caramel skin and sleek black hair she wore swept up in a ponytail.

"It's okay. I'm used to it. I just wanted to make sure they don't get hurt."

"Thank you for looking out for them. And for everything you've done for the island. When Mr. Umbari was forced to sell, we thought that everyone here would be forced off the island. But you swooped in and allowed us to keep our homes, brought reliable electricity and Wi-Fi, and helped us keep our jobs. You have truly been a blessing."

Tony nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I'm glad I could do some good," he said.

Delana tilted her head; she studied him a moment before smiling and patting his hand. "Let me get you some stew," she said finally before getting up and heading to the kitchen where people had begun to get in line.

Tony tuned in to the conversations around him. The people spoke in a mix of English and Fijian. Friday helped by providing translation on the lenses of his glasses and he followed the conversations. Delana returned with a big bowl of stew and a plate piled with roti, a flatbread the islanders seemed to have at almost every meal.

The storm hit late in the evening with everyone gathered around a large pot-bellied stove as Mr. Umbari told stories to the nervous children. They invited Tony into one of the wooden rocking chairs by the fire. He'd refused several times because although he owned the island and everyone had been more than welcoming, Tony couldn't shake the sense that he was still an outsider, merely a means to an end for these people. But eventually, he accepted and as the wind howled outside and Friday fed him updates about the storm, Tony drifted off to sleep in the warmth of the fire.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed

@caseyhasissues @iroironfestivalgoopmaker @unicornpower5301

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recurring-polynya · 5 years

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It is time for the most important meta I have ever done:

When, Exactly, Did Rukia and Renji Hook Up?

When we first meet Renji, he and Rukia haven’t spoken to each other in 40 years. Seven months after the Thousand Year Blood War Arc, they get hitched. We’re… we’re missing something. Somewhere in the middle there, they started kissing, and to be honest, it could have been anywhere. I’m gonna run through the possibilities and give my personal rating on their likelihood.

We will not be considering whether or not they hooked up prior to their separation, that is a topic for another time. Out of respect for your dash, I shall put all of this under a cut.

Let’s go:

1. Very Quickly. Just Right Away.

Look, this is not as unlikely as it seems. We know Renji already had Big Plans to resume contact. They had motive, for sure: A bunch of jail-related emotional tension. Rukia feeling Renji’s reiatsu go to dark not once, but twice. The Catch. Running down all those steps. ‘I’ll never let her go, you bastard.’ Unfortunately, all this ends with Renji getting carted off to the Coordinated Relief Station and Rukia fussing over Byakuya, so we can’t really imagine a big, romantic, off-panel “We lived!” smooch.

HOWEVER, we do get this (with bonus: Byakuya’s faaaaaaace):

Ichigo has lost Rukia, and the first person he asks is Renji. It would be generally in-character for Renji to reply with “How should I know where she is?” but he doesn’t, which implies that someone demanding Rukia’s whereabouts (in front of Byakuya, no less) of him is very normal and reasonable. He didn’t talk to her for 40 years, and within a week, he’s the go-to guy for finding her? Hmm. Hmmmmmmmm.

Likelihood: It could have happened. Look, I love slow burn, just, like, an unreasonable amount, but I am also utterly charmed by the idea that they’ve been apart so long that they decide not to waste any more time and just straight-up start making out in the waiting room while waiting for Byakuya to get out of surgery.

2. Between the Soul Society Arc and the Advance Team Arc

Something happened in this period, because when they show up in the Human World, they have all these...joint moves? Look at this adorable crap:

They’re always together and they... touch each other a lot? Also, look at this friggin’ smoulder!!!

Likelihood: Not actually very high, but I’m into it. The main thing that makes me skeptical here is that they actually act less like a couple in later storylines.

3. During the Advance Team/Hueco Mundo Arc:

Nah, brah.

For starters, they are only in the Living World together for about three days before Rukia goes back to Soul Society and A Lot happens during that time. There is a short period between when Rukia and Renji get recalled to Soul Society and when they show up in Hueco Mundo, but I imagine they were pretty busy sneaking around and also Rukia in particular was pretty stressed out about Orihime’s kidnapping, not very conducive to romance. Also, their dynamic doesn’t really change throughout this storyline. So either they were already hooked up, or it happened later, but it didn’t happen here.

Likelihood: Low.

4. During the Timeskip:

A lot of people go for this one, and it’s hard to argue with, because we’ve got a year and a half of not seeing them and when they show up again, it’s clear they’ve been Living Their Best Lives: Rukia has gone from unseated to Vice-Captain, and Renji has grown out his hair and started showing off his pecs.

The shinigami only show up at the tail end of the Fullbringer Arc, but even so, it’s clear that Renji and Rukia are close-- when Byakuya brings Rukia back from her fight with Riruka, he immediately hands her off to Renji, although to be fair, I feel like Byakuya hands things to Renji all the time when he’s tired of dealing with them. All the other captains go home at some point and they tell Rukia to stick around with Ichigo, and Renji just stays, too, without fanfare. Later, though we find out that Renji was the one who brought Ginjo’s body back to Soul Society (why is it utterly unsurprising that “moving bodies” a thing Byakuya makes Renji do???), so maybe he was sticking around for that.

Why am I so skeptical about this? Mostly because Renji is tremendously weird during the Fullbringer arc. First, he starts talking about what a nice guy the Captain-Commander is??? And then he gives that awful, terrible, ‘I don’t hit women’ speech while fighting Jackie. UGH I HATE IT.

There’s an episode of the Bount Arc where Rukia, who has been injured, gets out of bed and makes Renji take her to Ichigo’s fight where she then gives the Karakura kids a ten-minute speech about not interfering in other peoples’ fights. I honestly like to think that Renji has a bad head cold in the Fullbringer Arc, and he’s on the same medicine Squad 4 gave Rukia in that episode. It is the only explanation I will accept.

Likelihood: Sure, I guess? Insufficient evidence.

5. Before Thousand Year Blood War:

The first time we see them in this storyline, they are definitely Old Married Coupling it up:

After the Quincy show up and start taking names, both Ichigo and Byakuya worry about the both of them in one breath. They’re shown lying in the rubble together in dual shots, even though they’re halfway across the Seireitei from each other, and then they share a hospital room. Wait, what? They share a hospital room? Jeez, yeah, they’re together.

Likelihood: It’s highly likely that they’re together at this time, but I don’t see any particular evidence that it would happen after the Fullbringer Arc but before the TYBW. More like retroactive evidence for “in the timeskip.”

6. In the Royal Realm

Welp. This happened:

These pages are a goddamn gift.

They very awkwardly refer to each other as “a friend,” which indicates to me that they are not, in fact a couple at this point. I will extremely defer to anyone who has read this in the original Japanese.

BUT AFTERWARDS, they show up in matching outfits, and start wrecking people. God, I love them as a power couple. I love it when they swing into action together. I love that they trust and depend on each other enough to just be like, “Okay, babe, you take care of this guy, I’ll see you later.” I love it that they know each so well that they know each other’s weaknesses.

There’s a brief interlude where they split up so they can each have a big Signature Fight, but aside from that, they share panel time constantly up until the end of the arc, when Renji hauls Ichigo back onto his feet to go fight Yhwach. Renji’s speech to Ichigo makes more sense to me if Renji and Rukia did just get together in the Royal Realm, rather than having been together for some time.

Likelihood: It’s honestly hard to believe that they haven’t gotten together by this point, but they are both kinda boneheads. And narratively, I love the idea that they get together at this point. I’d say it’s my fav, but maybe they’re all my fav??

7. After the TYBW

We Do Knot Always Love You is lame.

There. I said it.

HOW is there an entire NOVEL about them getting married, and it is not romantic at all and we never find out how they got together and there’s no proposal scene and like, it’s funny that Byakuya can’t seem to process any of this, but it’s also profoundly UNSATISFYING?!!?

Anyway, I feel like WDKALY would have us believe they got together after the war, and I GUESS, but unless you’re willing to do the work of providing some romantic story out of it, this is the lamest possible point for them to get together. I disapprove.

Likelihood: Canonically, high. In my heart, very low.

So what is the upshot, Polynya? When did it happen?

The answer, friends, is that it is unknowable. In the epilogue timeskip, they basically haven’t changed at all. They’re just a couple of salty goobs who make eyes at each other all the time and express their love for each other by punching other people in the face. This is a huge part of what makes them so compelling to me-- you could write 1000 fanfics of them getting together at literally any time in their relationship, and it would work and be canon compliant.

Feel free to send me your opinions, I am willing to talk about this topic until I die.

#renruki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #bleach meta #otp #the infinite jest of bleach metaposts #this would have so many more pics if tumblr would let me #is this...a fanfic punch list?#if this isn't your jam please just move along

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bonniebird · 7 years

Text

The wolf of Kattegat (Part Five)

Ivar x Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Siblings names:

Birger – One who helps.

Ragna – Giving advice.

The night was broken with screaming and fighting. When you finally had enough of laying still you crept to the window band frankly wished you hadn't. Blood stained the snow. Some people were moving but unable to crawl away from the fighting, others hacked at the Ragnarssons who clearly had the gods on their side… if not Loki in their midsts for the way Ivar tore through them.

He was coated with blood and you wondered how he’d managed to fight his way through as a wolf then returned to his form and still look as if he’d simply bathed in blood. “Selene!” The hiss came as a surprise so you shrieked, the sound seeming to lure Ivar’s attention away from his fight to you.

“Oh!” You gasped when you saw the old lady trying to help a wounded Shieldmaiden into the house. You spotted Sigurd doing the same and called him over, helping the four of them inside before the helped you to secure the door.

“What is going on!?” Ragna asked as she woke, blushing when she saw Sigurd, wiping blood from his face.

“Help us patch these ones up… just because Ivar has sunk his teeth in them is no reason they should die.” Sigurd ordered. He helped lug pots to the fire, slice fabrics for bandages and checked the cabin to make it more secure.

All the while you and Ragna followed the orders of the old woman who was fixing up the four souls who were weakly thanking you for your help. “I do not understand! Ivar can turn to a wolf… how?” Ragna asked and Sigurd sucked the air between his teeth.

“He angered a witch.” His answer was quick and sharp.

*****************

“He will turn again tonight.” Sigurd said solemnly as he watched the street which ha died down, giving the brothers a chance to help Floki pull Ivar away.

“Again?” You asked and Sigurd nodded.

“He becomes weaker after the moon is full. The days leading up he gains strength but it is like the whole ordeal tires him.” Sigurd shrugged and you glanced at the door before nodded, imagining Ivar would be tired from the strain of shifting.

“Selene.” Birger gasped as he leant on the chair the old woman was napping in.

When you looked at what had caught his eye you saw the wounds of the warriors knitting together. You stood and a dreadful fear settled into your stomach. “Has he… has Ivar ever bit but not turned someone?”

“No, only killed. Why?” Sigurd asked as he strolled over. The shieldmaidens eyes shot open and they were the same Ivar’s had been the night before, their natural colour lost. “We can barely control one!”

“How many more do you think are out there?” You mumbled and looked up at the prince who stared at the group gathered, watching the wounded heal before his eyes.

“To many. Ivar does not tread onto Floki’s land… He did once but acted as if he was in pain and he doesn’t usual get bothered by pain.” Sigurd frowned and gestured as if that could help.

“The gods. Floki is devout to the gods and they will protect him.” The old woman spoke so suddenly that you all jumped.

“Would they protect us?” Ragna asked as she stood and looked ready to sweep up everything she could carry and march through the blood and slushed snow, crossing the town with a fierce motherly stride.

“Perhaps. Even if not, strategically, it would have its advantages.” She answered wisely and you nodded.

Hours later the sun was watery and the group trudged towards Floki’s. Your brother pulled and heaved a cart of food and clothes, Sigurd had acquired a horse and a much larger cart which was loaded as full as it could. The old woman joined you all with her own herbs and pack.

You took two packs and Ragna took her own, blushing and talking with Sigurd who seemed to enjoy her keeping stride with the horse. “Floki!” Sigurd called, slowing you all when Ubbe and Hvitserk stepped out of the hut.

“You are not welcome here!” Ubbe snarled and drew his axe before Floki stepped between you both. “Move, she has exposed us.”

“It is not her fault. As far as I see it she had the right to scream, to man, woman or the Gods. Ivar came for her life, had you done as I said and took him in before the moon rose. This would not have happened.” Floki said firmly and welcomed you into his home as if he’d been waiting for you.

The warm sunny look of a mother filled the cabin which was a far contrast from the mess of the town. Helga looked as if she had been blessed with a hundred sons. Making room for your belongings and settling you all in became her priority.

“You have come too?” Floki said without looking at the old woman who smiled. “I should think you would have moved on by now. Or are you content?” Floki’s words confused you but the old woman chuckled.

“I have come to guard my friends children.” She said but Floki just scoffed and nodded.

“Of course.” He motioned to welcome her in but looked irritated at the formality. “You two should gather the rest of their things for I doubt that little cabin will stand come morning and we shall need as much as we can salvage.” He motioned to you and Ubbe.

*******************

Ubbe frowned as you helped him gather the last of the objects that filled the house, wood, food and anything of value had been ferried back and forth as quickly as possible. The last trip put Ubbe on edge, it was dark and yet Ivar had yet to appear, all the while he may as well have dragged you back and forth before his brother and drew the beast into a rage with your presence.

“That is everything… just the bigger logs left.” You muttered as Ubbe returned from his day dreaming and helped you secure the logs.

“We should get back. You are sure you left the injured here?” He asked quietly as he mounted the horse and pulled you up behind him.

“Yes and they could barely move.” You sighed, holding on as Ubbe rushed the horse.

From nowhere a dark shadow appeared, flying over head and bursting into the light of the town centre. Ivar melted from the shadows as the huge wolf and snarled while blood that matted his fur dripped to the ground.

“Turn back and go the long way.” You hissed as Ubbe seemed to be toying with the idea of bolting past the beast.

“Perhaps you would like to have them move.” He gestured to the reflection in a large icy sheet that hung from one of the cabins and you swallowed utter fear as you saw several large wolves with the same hungry look Ivar held.

“We should cut the wood free and try to rush by.” You offered as an option and Ubbe nodded, handing you a knife while he drew and axe.

Wrapping the large cloak about you, you turned, cutting the rope which allowed Ubbe to push on. The horse was taken out from under you and Ubbe barely had a hold of you as he rolled away from snapping jaws and fighting.

As you both recovered from the shock of the fall you watched the wolves. They all respected Ivar who seemed happy enough to devour poor Sigurd’s borrowed horse. It was clear that Ivar knew you were both there and you were more than happy that the heavy cloak completely covered you, giving some imagined safety.

“We need to keep going.” Ubbe whispered to you. “It will take longer without the horse and who knows how long beasts that big will make that last.” He helped you up and you returned to Ragna and Helga’s motherly fussing, Birger’s fascination with your tail and Floki’s grim reply as he seemed to understand something terrible was coming.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivars heathen army #ivar ragnarsson x reader #bonniebird

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bloojayoolie · 6 years

Photo

Best Friend, Children, and Click: A shy mouse, delicate, petite, and oh so sweet! Brandy AHI A Playgroup STAR! Happily leaps & runs with her peers ld 31840 @ 2 Yrs., 27 lbs Manhattan Acc TO BE KILLED 6/29/18 Doe-like, shy as a mouse, petite and oh so sweet – Brandy is dreaming of a family to love (if you have other dogs, all the better! This girl is a doggy playgroup star! <3 A volunteer writes: “A long legged runway model! This is Brandy, a young lady, cute and petite that I first took for a puppy, laying all shy on her kuranda bed. Come out, come out. You are so pretty. Everyone needs to see you! Brandy made huge progresses since her arrival at the care center. Her peers helped a lot . She is no timid mouse in playgroups where she leaps happily and excitedly with boys and girls through open pens. She is still a bit tentative with us, humans but take your time with her and she will come around, welcoming caresses and eating treats from your hand. Brandy is gorgeous, trim and very delicate looking in her flame color coat. She owns a lovely smile that she uses sparingly but more and more as we spend more time together. She so reminds me of a mini doe who strayed away from the woods into my backyard. Brandy is dreaming of a home and a loving owner , the perfect cure for her mousiness. Come to the Manhattan Care Center, get to know her and take her home as your forever best friend!” PRIVATE MESSAGE our page or email us at [email protected] to foster or adopt this super sweet, petite beauty. Brandy has a video! https://youtu.be/Hw4A04jcK4s BRANDY, ID # 31840, @ 2 Yrs. Old, 27.8 lbs. of Love Manhattan acc, Medium Mixed Breed, Tan / White, Unaltered Female Owner Surrender Reason: stated as person circumstance- landlord won't allow. Shelter Assessment Rating: experienced Intake Behavior Rating: Green Behavior Assessment Date of intake:: 6/20/2018 Spay/Neuter status:: No Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Owner Surrender Previously lived with:: Adults and four large dogs Behavior toward strangers:: Shy but warms up and is playful Behavior toward children:: Relaxed and playful Behavior toward dogs:: Playful and gentle Resource guarding:: None reported Bite history:: None reported Housetrained:: Yes Energy level/descriptors:: Brandy is described as friendly, excitable, and a little shy with a medium level of activity. Date of assessment:: 6/21/2018 Look:: 2. Dog's eyes are averted, body posture is stiff and fearful, tail is low and not moving. Dog allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity:: 2. Dog stands still and accepts the touch, eyes are averted, tail is between legs, body stiff, mouth closed, lip long, ears likely back, may lip lick. Tag:: 2. Dog is fearful but unresponsive when touched. Approaches the Assessor when the game ends. Dog is likely crouching, may have a long lip or lip lick. Paw squeeze 1:: 1. Dog does not respond at all for three seconds. Eyes are averted and ears are relaxed or back. Paw squeeze 2:: 1. Dog does not respond at all for three seconds. Eyes are averted and ears are relaxed or back. Flank squeeze 1:: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 2:: Item not conducted Toy:: 1. No interest. Summary:: Brandy did not walk on the leash and had to be carried. She had a low body and tucked tail throughout the assessment, but had a soft body when handled and solicited attention by nudging the assessors hand. She allowed all handling. Summary:: The previous owner of Brandy describes her behavior around other dogs as "playful and gentle". She was reported to live in the home with four other large dogs. In the care center, Brandy has opened up to socializing and engaging in play with other dogs. Slow introductions are recommended between Brandy and other dogs who are playful and social. Summary (1):: 6/21: When introduced off leash to the male greeter dog, Brandy is soft and polite when greeting. Summary (2):: 6/22-23: Brandy is soft and polite when greeting male and female dogs. She opens up and engages in brief bouts of soft play with the male dog. Summary (3):: 6/24-25: Brandy engages in more exuberant style running play. She offers correction for mounting. Summary (4):: 6/26-27: Brandy is soft and social in a group of small dogs. Date of intake:: 6/20/2018 Summary:: Brandy had a tense body but allowed all handling. ENERGY LEVEL:: Brandy is described as having a medium level of activity. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: EXPERIENCE (suitable for an adopter with some previous dog experience, especially with the behaviors outlined below) Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Potential challenges: : Fearful,Other Potential challenges comments:: Fearful: Brandy is described as shy with new people is fearful at the care center. It is important to always go slow and give Brandy the option to walk away from any social interaction. Brandy should never be forced to approach anything that she is uncomfortable with or to submit to petting or handling. It should always be Brandy’s choice to approach a new person or thing. Brandy would do best in an initially calm and quiet home environment and should be given time to acclimate to her new surroundings. Does not walk on leash: Brandy does not walk while on leash. She may need positive reinforcement, reward based training to teach her to on the leash. She should never be forced to walk or pulled. My medical notes are... Weight: 27.8 lbs Vet Notes Post Surgery Note: [Spay/Neuter Waiver - Upper Respiratory Illness] 23/06/2018 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 1 Microchip noted on Intake? n Microchip Number (If Applicable): n History : OS Subjective: BARH Observed Behavior - gentle timid Evidence of Cruelty seen -n Evidence of Trauma seen -n Objective T = - P = wnl R = wnl BCS = 4/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: teeth in good cond - mild calculus on canines PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: INTACT – externally normal MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: externally normal Assessment: Healthy Prognosis: Excellent Plan: OVH SURGERY: Okay for surgery 28/06/2018 Pt scheduled for surgery at ASPCA today; coughing and nasal discharge seen at ASPCA and surgery was cancelled. Start doxycycline 125 mg PO SID x14 days Start Cerenia 24 mg PO SID x4 days *TO FOSTER OR ADOPT * If you would like to adopt a dog on our “To Be Killed” list, and you CAN get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process *within 48 hours of reserve*, you can reserve the dog online until noon on the day they are scheduled to die. We have provided the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan information below. Adoption hours at these facilities is Noon – 8:00 p.m. (6:30 on weekends) HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC) nycacc.org HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications.

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Best Friend #Children

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verdigrisprowl · 7 years

Text

Nov 27 Dancitron Movie Night - The Jungle Book

Prowl was pretty much out of it all night. His deep suspicion of singing dogs and his inability to tell dogs from other mammals made the movie more unpleasant than it otherwise would have been.

Prowl is baffled at how long it takes people to be considered fully mature in Soundwave’s universe. Then again, he was sent off to become a police officer at like five days old.

Today ItsyBitsySpyers 7:50 pm *Soundwave's itching to move again, but there's no way he's doing that right now - so he's just sitting on his usual couch with a feeler lightly tapping in time* *Drinks and snacks where they usually are, minis where they usually are, all that.* Swoop 7:51 pm *is comparatively clean, put together, and stapler gun free tonight* Swoop 7:53 pm *scoops up a huge stack of snacks and toddles on over to Bird* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:55 pm *Soundwave is thankful for that. His mind is six places tonight and none of them are handling Crazed Dinobot Toddler Shenanigans.* *Bird is jamming out to the music right now, but she'll somehow fit popping the occasional treat into her mouth into it all, along with a whistled greeting* Swoop 7:56 pm *is all giggles and heart-eyes while he bobs along with Bird* Specs 7:56 pm *what's this? a whole cartful of treats! who wants mercury drops, energon truffles with soft silver centers, and cookies with delicate mercury and silver additions?* Bevel 7:58 pm *trundles in* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:58 pm *ZORI DOES! Brave scorpion leap from the nearest couch back onto the cart 😄 * *Frenzy waves yo to Bevel* Bevel 7:59 pm *waves* Specs 7:59 pm Help yourself, friend! 😄 *it's always nice to see people snacking happily* Bevel 8:00 pm Thanks! *will take something with mercury and join the twins at the usual table* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:01 pm #thank you #:D

*He will try to pick up a cookie that's like 1/4th his size and hold it overhead with his pincers. It won't quite work. Bonk to the head and startled beep.* Specs 8:02 pm *the dragon will try not to grin at how adorable Zori is* You okay there? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:02 pm #oh yes #I am fine #can you break this? #please? *Holds the cookie out* Bevel 8:03 pm *dances a little in her seat to the music* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:03 pm *Frenzy and Rumble join in a little. They're tired, but if their seatmate is dancing, why not?* Swoop 8:04 pm You Bird good dancer <3 Bevel 8:04 pm *grins* Specs 8:04 pm I can! *the dragon delicately snaps the cookie in half* Again, or is this good? *she probably should have worn gloves for this. oops.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:04 pm {{Best dancer!}} Preen preen. Swoop 8:04 pm Best EVERYTHING! Magnum Ace 8:05 pm -pings Soundwave for permission- ItsyBitsySpyers 8:05 pm *Zori holds the cookie up one more time to compare it to himself and whistles happily.* #it is good! #thank you~ *Soundwave casually pops a bridge open for the Leaguers, about fifty feet from the door just to be safe.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:06 pm *Little arachnid mouthparts nom nom nomming that cookie while still on the tray. It's a good viewing point. He'll watch from here.* Specs 8:07 pm Always happy to help out a friend! *the dragon delicately brushes residue off her paws while trying to be subtle about it. she licks those sometimes, better not have energon on them when she does!* *she'll sit near the tray. Swoop probably won't crush her here, and she gets to hang out with her favorite scorpion! win/win* FakeProwl 8:08 pm *shows up, sits down, props his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, zones out.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:08 pm ((10 minute warning, grab your snacks and stuff)) Magnum Ace 8:08 pm -and he's going to trot through the bridge- Bull 8:08 pm *Follows in after Magnum* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:09 pm *Soundwave pings Prowl hello before resuming the tiny timing taps.* Magnum Ace 8:11 pm -time to find a seat- ItsyBitsySpyers 8:11 pm [[Greetings, you two.]] Magnum Ace 8:11 pm Hello, Soundwave Bull 8:12 pm Hello. *he waves up to the bigger mech* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:12 pm [[How are your sports events going?]] Swoop 8:12 pm ((do i want Cheetos or ice cream)) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:13 pm ((both)) Swoop 8:13 pm ((sick)) Magnum Ace 8:13 pm ((BOTH Swoop 8:13 pm ((LOL)) Bevel 8:13 pm *likes this songs greatly* Swoop 8:13 pm ((well the audience has voted and it is a clear tie. I suppose I must.)) ((mint ice cream and white cheddar cheedos)) ((pregnant food)) Magnum Ace 8:13 pm ((haha! ItsyBitsySpyers 8:13 pm ((just needs a pickle)) Swoop 8:14 pm ((I have olives)) Magnum Ace 8:14 pm ((that works Specs 8:14 pm ((I didn't know this song was real)) FakeProwl 8:14 pm ((... did you think it was a fake song...?)) Specs 8:15 pm ((to be entirely honest, I put it in the category of "shit I made up in my sleep")) FakeProwl 8:15 pm ((oh lmao)) Magnum Ace 8:15 pm Our games are mostly practice ones right now Specs 8:16 pm ((some songs just show up when I'm sleeping and get stuck in my head, there's one that's like "I need an SOS you'll be my SOS" and I don't think that song exists, and there's others too)) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:16 pm [[Ah. You are not battling actual teams right now?]] *Listen to him. Battling. Like it's an arena match. Clearly not a sports mech.* FakeProwl 8:17 pm *mumbles* Playing. Magnum Ace 8:17 pm ...they're games, not warfare ItsyBitsySpyers 8:17 pm ((i know three songs about SOS's)) Swoop 8:18 pm *shoves an entire handful of goodies in his face like the mannerless child he is* Bull 8:18 pm *Bull Armor knew that some they had been through could be considered 'battles' but says nother* Bevel 8:18 pm ((there's also a band called the S.O.S. Band)) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:18 pm *Soundwave looks over to Prowl, briefly confused before he realizes it's about how he worded things.*

[[Oh. Yes. Playing.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 8:19 pm ((OKAY warnings... tbh i don't remember, i watched this months and months ago. fire and violence and tigers threatening to eat kids and bees and falls from heights and things like that.)) Swoop 8:20 pm ((sounds like swoop's day to day life)) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:20 pm ((i am pretty sure y'all have at least seen the old one, not terribly different)) Magnum Ace 8:20 pm But, yes, mostly practice right now ((m'kay! Swoop 8:20 pm ((Not only have I seen the old one. I've seen the video my parents took of me as a toddler ROCKING OUT to the Bear Necessities. I'll never be able to escape that dance.)) Bevel 8:21 pm ((lol ItsyBitsySpyers 8:21 pm ((i have learned something new and powerful today)) [[May your practices be promising for the coming matches.]] He's pretty sure matches is still the right word. FakeProwl 8:22 pm *mumbles* Games. Specs 8:22 pm *the dragon's eyes widen* It's so green. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:22 pm *Ravage pops his head over the bar, then runs over to Soundwave to park himself on the empty side of the couch. He knows this. There's a him in it.* Bull 8:23 pm Thanks, it'll be awhile til we play another game. Swoop 8:23 pm Him on Dinobot Island? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:24 pm *Damn. Still wrong.*

[[Games.]] Magnum Ace 8:24 pm Thank you, but as Bull said, our season is over for now. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:24 pm {{Nooo, no Dinobots.}} Swoop 8:24 pm No Dinobots on Dinobot Island NOW. Decepticons broke island. Us leave. FakeProwl 8:25 pm *absent-mindedly pats Soundwave's knee, then props his chin up again.* Specs 8:25 pm They're fuzzy, there must be snow SOMEWHERE... Swoop 8:26 pm ((thank goodness there's no steeljaw here, they would have got a howl going)) Specs 8:27 pm *the dragon hums contemplatively. how could anything be so dry?* Swoop 8:27 pm Oh, him a .... porky pine. Kehehhh. It like Him Snarl. Poke! ItsyBitsySpyers 8:27 pm *Amused huff at the knee pat. At least Prowl was polite about correcting him.*

{{This long ago time story, no Dinobots.}} //Looks like you, Frenzy.//

\\I LIKE IT.\\ Specs 8:28 pm *the dragon gasps delightedly at the crocodile* It's a cousin! ...Well, kind of. No wings on it. Swoop 8:28 pm No Dinobot > : Them thirsty Swoop 8:30 pm You Bird not a good wolf. You tricky! Keheheh! Specs 8:30 pm *giggles* Hatchlings are all the same, aren't they. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:30 pm {{Peh, wolf.}} Swoop 8:30 pm Wolf lame. No flying. Specs 8:33 pm What a good docent. Swoop 8:33 pm Why tiger mad? Magnum Ace 8:33 pm ..... ItsyBitsySpyers 8:33 pm @Prowl: (txt): Tired today? Specs 8:34 pm *gasps again at the crocodile* Weird wingless cousin! I hope it lives. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:34 pm [[Humans do not belong in their spaces.]] Swoop 8:34 pm Why? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:34 pm #what is cousin? FakeProwl 8:34 pm @Soundwave «Yes.» Bevel 8:35 pm He said a human hurt him. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:35 pm *Small acknowledgment nod. He'll try not to be too taxing today.* Swoop 8:35 pm So? Specs 8:35 pm Most, well, dragons, aren't furry like me. Still the same shape, mostly. Four legs, thumbs, wings, tail, head. And most of our kinds can't make viable eggs together. So we call each other cousins. Specs 8:37 pm *gets a little emotional about the docent. that's the best of what a docent is supposed to be, poor wolf* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:37 pm #the Bagheera is a cousin? #to Ravage? Swoop 8:37 pm *rolls over so he can sprawl out properly with the goodies set out in front of him and his chin in his hands* Specs 8:37 pm *looks over at Ravage* *looks back at Bagheera* I think you should ask him. Magnum Ace 8:38 pm -coughing laugh at the cousin question- ItsyBitsySpyers 8:38 pm =...Passable.= Swoop 8:39 pm *flicks his wings* There birds in movie? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:39 pm {{Maybe. We see.}} Specs 8:39 pm *the dragon smiles a little* That's our answer, Zori. Magnum Ace 8:40 pm !!! Swoop 8:40 pm *perks up* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:41 pm =Memories.= Swoop 8:41 pm Him going die kehehh Way too slow FakeProwl 8:41 pm *Prowl's rooting for the dog that looks like Ravage.* Specs 8:41 pm *the dragon, too, is supremely confident that Bagheera will win that fight* Magnum Ace 8:41 pm -it's like him attempting to outrun Mach Windy, insane- Swoop 8:41 pm ((long live the king)) Magnum Ace 8:41 pm ((SWOOP NO Bull 8:42 pm Kid; please stay away from the horns. *knows how dangerous they can be* Specs 8:42 pm He did not stay away from the horns. Swoop 8:42 pm KEHEH! That fun. Me Swoop jump on other Dinobot that way before. GRAB! Magnum Ace 8:42 pm He apparently decided to do just that Bull 8:43 pm At least their horns don't move. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:43 pm *Ravage paws the couch in thought.*

=Hm. Stripes. Should find him. Speak.= Magnum Ace 8:43 pm True. That would have been bad ItsyBitsySpyers 8:44 pm *Soundwave gently strokes Ravage's back. They will look for him later, when this is over.* Swoop 8:45 pm ((jesus christ)) Bull 8:45 pm ! ItsyBitsySpyers 8:45 pm #D: #no! #why? Magnum Ace 8:45 pm -startled upright- Swoop 8:45 pm *cackles* DEAD Specs 8:45 pm *the dragon barely blinks* Because that's how people with more teeth in their skulls than brains solve problems. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:45 pm *Zori tries to burrow into the cookies.* Swoop 8:46 pm *rooolls over onto his back, giggling, then spreads his wings out as far as they will go for maximum floor coverage* *tosses a treat up for Bird* Specs 8:46 pm *she carefully covers Zori with cookies. he is safe. she will fight anyone who bothers him* Whirl 8:46 pm *trots on in, heading for the usual table. Are Shovel and the Gang seated there tonight?* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:46 pm *Nom nom treat!* Bevel 8:46 pm *they are* Swoop 8:46 pm *makes grabby hands at Bird* Magnum Ace 8:46 pm -reaches over to pat at Bull- Bevel 8:46 pm *waves to Whirl* Whirl 8:46 pm *excellent; he will bob his head at his table buddies as he sits* Magnum Ace 8:47 pm -best to not look- Specs 8:47 pm *the dragon hides her head under her tail at all the drowning* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:48 pm *The twins will punch Whirl hello. Zori will whistle and wave* Swoop 8:48 pm You Soundwave always pick movies with no flying! Kehheh. Them have wings, them have nooo problem! Whirl 8:48 pm *he accepts and welcomes the punches; Zori will get the greeting-beep in response* ((o boy. the most hilarious miscast of the film)) Specs 8:48 pm Waterlogged wings are a bit of a- *gasp* A skin! ItsyBitsySpyers 8:48 pm //Ew. What the frag.// Swoop 8:48 pm Lidard Whirl 8:48 pm ((i like scarjo but her voice was a bad fit for thissun)) Swoop 8:48 pm *Lizard Bevel 8:49 pm Skin? Specs 8:49 pm Usually you are supposed to eat those, really. There's too much you lose by leaving them out in the open. Well, so the cousins say. I don't shed my skin. Whirl 8:49 pm *peers at the dragon* Is that what you do? Just. Shuck it all off sometimes? Oh, well, nevermind. Question answered. Bevel 8:49 pm I thought skin kept organic organs inside? Specs 8:50 pm I think it helps with healing their scales? I'm not very clear on that. I know my skin is more elastic than theirs would be. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:50 pm \\MAYBE SOMEBODY KILLED IT.\\ Specs 8:50 pm It would have color if it was killed! That's just the top layer, I think? I'm not sure how that works. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:50 pm //Heh! I like whatever these fraggers are.// Swoop 8:50 pm Keheh them STEAL Bevel 8:50 pm *laughs* Whirl 8:51 pm Sneaky little glitches. Heh. Specs 8:51 pm *the dragon has to laugh too. what a trick!* Whirl 8:51 pm I guess that's how you weaponize cuteness. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:51 pm //Wouldn't know nothin' bout that, would we?//

{{No~}} Specs 8:51 pm *the dragon fluffs her fur out and looks at Whirl with them big ol eyes* Weaponized cuteness? What's that? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:52 pm @Prowl: (txt): Why tired? Rest disturbed? Swoop 8:52 pm Oh It snake ItsyBitsySpyers 8:52 pm *Chimera flaps down from above, intrigued by the appearance of a snake, and has a minor explosion to reform itself appropriately. Mimic them, and all that.* Magnum Ace 8:52 pm .... Whirl 8:52 pm *regards her, deadpan* Something that doesn't work on me. Bull 8:52 pm That's a big snake. Whirl 8:52 pm *a lie, it does. Zori defeated Whirl with his cuteness alone* Specs 8:53 pm Damn. *the dragon looks back at the snake* Do those live in trees, on earth? They look like things that live in the oceans where I live... Swoop 8:53 pm Eyes Magnum Ace 8:53 pm Glad we didn't run into any on the island Specs 8:53 pm ...They don't do that, though. Swoop 8:53 pm Fire Bird Bird Look, them live in cave too Magnum Ace 8:54 pm There's the explanation FakeProwl 8:54 pm *It takes him a moment to register the question.* @Soundwave «... More or less.» Whirl 8:55 pm Oh, hey. Didn't know Ravage was in this movie. Bevel 8:55 pm Ha Swoop 8:55 pm Kehehh Him touch teeth Specs 8:55 pm *blinks, and looks at Ravage* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:55 pm @Prowl: (txt): Source? =What.= FakeProwl 8:56 pm @Soundwave «Insomnia.» Whirl 8:56 pm ((speaking of hungry pythons it's Jerry's dinnertime)) Swoop 8:56 pm Nose Specs 8:56 pm ...Actually, nevermind. *the dragon looks back at the screen* FakeProwl 8:56 pm ((that's definitely a bear, it sounds the same as in skyrim)) Specs 8:56 pm ((jerry! jerry! jerry!)) Swoop 8:56 pm Him live in cave tooooooooo Specs 8:56 pm That's what those scaly noodles do. They coil. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:57 pm @Prowl: (txt): Unpleasant. Assistance required-wanted? Swoop 8:57 pm HIm kid ask lots, lots of question ItsyBitsySpyers 8:57 pm <<The Kaa is a serpent. The Kaa is not food.>> Whirl 8:57 pm *was that Chimera speaking? How rare; Whirl looks over* Magnum Ace 8:57 pm Oh He's sending him after a beehive That's a bad idea Specs 8:58 pm Sorry, Chimera. I meant that as shape, not as edibility. *the dragon blinks* Winter is not coming. There is no snow. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:58 pm *Chimera's first third is swaying in the air while they process the existence of the Kaa.* Specs 8:59 pm *the dragon offers Chimera a pat* Bevel 8:59 pm *trying to figure out if Kaa is bigger than Chimera* FakeProwl 8:59 pm @Soundwave «... None available.» Magnum Ace 8:59 pm -pokes Bull- -cover your eyes- Swoop 9:00 pm bumblebees ItsyBitsySpyers 9:00 pm *That was a much... MUCH bigger snake than they are. But they may be able to learn how to protect themselves by squeezing. As soon as they finish thinking about the idea.* Specs 9:00 pm *the dragon stares at the beehives in fascination* Are those edible? ((I love that line)) Bull 9:00 pm ugh... heights Specs 9:01 pm Well, clearly THAT'S edible. Whirl 9:01 pm Just about anything is edible if you're determined enough. Swoop 9:01 pm ((gross lol)) Bevel 9:02 pm *will put a hand out for Chimera if they're interested* Magnum Ace 9:03 pm -nudges Bull again- It's safe ItsyBitsySpyers 9:04 pm *Soundwave tilts his helm - he could interfere with the schedule if Prowl needed a few days to try to find recharge - but if Prowl says none is available, he will not push the matter. Prowl knows himself.*

*Chimera slithers around Bevel's arm and enters energy conservation mode.* Swoop 9:04 pm propaganda Specs 9:04 pm *the dragon cackles. she likes this movie* Bevel 9:04 pm *best kind of jewelry* Whirl 9:04 pm Welcome to the best table in the house, Chimera. *gestures expansively* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:05 pm *Optic flicker.*

<<Thank you, the Whirl. Why is it best?>> Bevel 9:05 pm Because we are all here! Whirl 9:05 pm All the coolest people are here. Hell yeah, Shovel gets it! Bevel 9:06 pm *grins* Swoop 9:06 pm tricky Specs 9:07 pm Winter is a long time away. I can't believe there's no snow. *winces. the poor docent.* Swoop 9:07 pm Him Tiger eat puppies ItsyBitsySpyers 9:07 pm <<The shapeshifter is warm.>>

[[The less snow, the better.]] Swoop 9:07 pm Oh there birds Bull 9:07 pm I have a bad feeling... Magnum Ace 9:07 pm . . . Bevel 9:08 pm Not nice. Whirl 9:08 pm Figure of speech. It means, basically, awesome. Specs 9:09 pm *winces again* I hope the docent doesn't die. Swoop 9:09 pm *chirps back at the screen* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:09 pm //So that's what kinda Earth bird the 'Beak is. Huh.// Swoop 9:10 pm kehehehhh Him bear lazy Whirl 9:10 pm *snickers* Swoop 9:10 pm like Snarl ItsyBitsySpyers 9:10 pm *Raspberry* Specs 9:10 pm *the dragon wiggles and taps her front paws* FakeProwl 9:11 pm *There's music. Why's there music.* *IT'S A SINGING DOG.* Bevel 9:11 pm ((omg ItsyBitsySpyers 9:11 pm ((i'm dying)) FakeProwl 9:11 pm *Prowl can't escape them.* Swoop 9:11 pm *giggles* Specs 9:11 pm *the dragon tries to sing along, but she is a bad singer and has never heard this song before. please bear with her* Swoop 9:11 pm *tosses a treat in the air for himself* Swoop 9:12 pm ((fucking brutal XD)) Specs 9:13 pm ((destroyed)) *snickers* *bagheera's like a docent version of ravage* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:13 pm *Just about as cranky too.* Swoop 9:14 pm Why cat mad? Bevel 9:14 pm Tricks? Specs 9:15 pm *hums the bare necessities song- badly* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:15 pm [[The bear is ruining his plan to move the human to the human land.]] Magnum Ace 9:15 pm Because the one he was protecting was played as a fool Swoop 9:15 pm Cats can tricky. Ravage tricky. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:15 pm *Ravage flicks his tail and sticks his nose in the air, optics closing briefly. Yes. Yes, he is.* Specs 9:16 pm ((elephants don't growl)) Whirl 9:16 pm Those things're cool. Specs 9:16 pm They look a little bit like one of the cousins, too. But not very. They don't have long tails, or wings. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:18 pm [[Why they do not kill the tiger and allow the human to stay and assist is beyond him.]] Swoop 9:18 pm It baby elephant Specs 9:18 pm ((bear dad and panther dad)) I can't imagine that Bagheera would lose to the tiger. Whirl 9:18 pm Honestly, yeah. The tiger's big, but there are a LOT of them. Maybe even trick him into that snake's pit. Bevel 9:19 pm Even if Bagheera could not beat him, I bet everyone together could. Whirl 9:19 pm Yeah. Especially now that Mowgli's done those big guys a favor. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:19 pm [[The... elephants? Are enormous beasts. Surely a stampede would destroy the tiger.]] Whirl 9:19 pm They could definitely take the tiger in a fight. Bevel 9:19 pm They could do it as thanks for saving the baby! Specs 9:20 pm Mmm. They're big, but size isn't everything. Magnum Ace 9:21 pm They're all scared of the tiger Whirl 9:21 pm It's not, but it doesn't hurt to be huge. *he would know, he is huge* Magnum Ace 9:22 pm His large reputation keeps them at bay Specs 9:22 pm It doesn't hurt to have teeth, and claws, either. Whirl 9:22 pm ...huh. Swoop 9:22 pm Kehehhehhhhh Them grab Specs 9:22 pm And, clearly, thumbs help too. Magnum Ace 9:22 pm That too, but I bet the reputation is what keeps the larger animals at bay ItsyBitsySpyers 9:22 pm =Thumbs are overrated.= Whirl 9:22 pm Agreed. Swoop 9:23 pm Him Ratchet say thumbs in medbay *flops his wings around* ' Specs 9:23 pm Not everything in the universe can be as awesome as you two, however. Us lesser beings need thumbs. Whirl 9:23 pm That's fair, that's fair. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:23 pm {{Him Ratchet smart medic, you listen.}} Swoop 9:23 pm Kehehhheheh Me know Bevel 9:23 pm *wiggles her thumbs absently* Swoop 9:23 pm Him best medic ever Specs 9:25 pm After all, a universe full of Ravage and Whirl? That would be... *wracks her brains for the word she's looking for* indescribable. Whirl 9:25 pm It would be loud. Swoop 9:25 pm Kehehhh Specs 9:25 pm Ravage isn't loud? ItsyBitsySpyers 9:25 pm //Naw. That's a universe fulla Frenzy.// Whirl 9:25 pm I'm loud enough for me AND Rava-PFFT. Swoop 9:25 pm Flying way way better than climb Whirl 9:25 pm Frenzy is loud enough for all the rest of us put together. He's a damn professional. Swoop 9:26 pm ((i am excite)) Specs 9:26 pm Some dragons climb glaciers without using their wings, Swoop. *the dragon huffs a little, though. she thinks it's stupid too.* Magnum Ace 9:26 pm ? ItsyBitsySpyers 9:26 pm =Me. Loud.= Scorn snort. =Never.=

\\EVERYBODY GOTTA HAVE A LIFE CALLIN'.\\ *Frenzy puffs his chest out.* //Needs more cowbell, I guess.// Whirl 9:26 pm ((omg)) Swoop 9:26 pm ((NEEDS MORE COWBELL)) ((o m f g )) Specs 9:27 pm ((moar cowbell)) Whirl 9:27 pm Holy--he's even BIGGER. That Tiger wouldn't stand a chance. Magnum Ace 9:27 pm ....they're not supposed to get that big Specs 9:27 pm I don't think he can leave that building... He's too big. Bevel 9:28 pm That is a really big monkey. Swoop 9:28 pm ((YES)) Specs 9:28 pm ((he's the mobster orangutan)) Swoop 9:28 pm Him King? Magnum Ace 9:28 pm They're not supposed to get that /big/ Specs 9:29 pm *giggles* Ears in his ears! Swoop 9:30 pm (( OH MY GOD)) ((this is actually the best)) Whirl 9:30 pm Well. Specs 9:30 pm *wiggles and taps again* you--o-o-o Whirl 9:30 pm His singing could definitely kill the tiger. Swoop 9:31 pm Him want fire a lot... It not hard. *blows just one little puff of a flame that goes right out* Magnum Ace 9:32 pm ... Bevel 9:32 pm *laughs* Swoop 9:32 pm ((that squint is so walken)) Specs 9:32 pm *the dragon giggles too* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:33 pm *Rumble dims his visor and affects a hoarser voice.*

//But, now ya come to me, and ya say, "King Louie, give me papayas." But ya don't ask wit' respect. Ya don't offer red flowers. Ya don't even think to call me Gigantopithecus. Instead, ya come into my ruins on the day you're s'posed to go to the village, and ya ask me to give fruits for nothin'.// Bevel 9:33 pm *giggles* Specs 9:33 pm *cackles* Whirl 9:33 pm *BURSTS OUT LAUGHING* FakeProwl 9:33 pm ((PFFF)) Swoop 9:34 pm *doesn't know why we are laughing but laughs anyway* Whirl 9:34 pm Nice, Rumble. A classic. Bevel 9:34 pm Monkey army. Specs 9:34 pm It's like a sport. Whack-a-monkey. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:34 pm //We gotta do that one some t-- aw yeah, monkey fight.// Magnum Ace 9:34 pm !!! Whirl 9:34 pm Not a bad Brando either. Specs 9:34 pm If he's big enough to break rocks, he's big enough to kill a tiger. Whirl 9:35 pm And yeah, we should. Maybe we can swing another Culture Club sometime. Yeah, he'd pulverize that tiger. Swoop 9:35 pm Why them say human has fire? Him not dinobot. There no human fire. *pats his throat* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:35 pm {{Humans make fire.}} Specs 9:36 pm *the dragon attempts to imitate the monkey squeaking* Swoop 9:36 pm Not MAKE. Not ... *lacks words so he just pats his mouth* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:36 pm {{Noooo, them use sticks. Little wood.}} Swoop 9:36 pm Monkey can't wood? Specs 9:36 pm Oh. Swoop 9:36 pm KAHA! Dead. Magnum Ace 9:37 pm ..... Specs 9:37 pm This is why you don't live in buildings too big for you. Swoop 9:38 pm Him not so fast. Cat catch. Magnum Ace 9:38 pm He's got a long head start though ItsyBitsySpyers 9:38 pm {{Them monkey not knowing how make wood-fire.}} Swoop 9:39 pm Why not? ItsyBitsySpyers 9:39 pm {{Nobody teach.}} Swoop 9:39 pm Ohh Okay Windchill 9:39 pm *Is LATE to a movie with FIRE?! Wow what a tragedy.* Whirl 9:40 pm See, this is how you get revenge. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:40 pm [[This will not end well.]] Bevel 9:40 pm If he runs too fast that fire will go out. Swoop 9:40 pm FIRE! kehehh Whirl 9:40 pm Burn absolutely everything to the ground and annihilate your enemy. Windchill 9:40 pm *Time to sit his booty down.* Specs 9:40 pm Get revenge by consuming your foe and everything they created. Whirl 9:40 pm *bobs his head at Windchill* Swoop 9:40 pm Him burn cat. Tiger. Whirl 9:40 pm Yep. ...maybe literally, depending on who you are. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:40 pm [[There it is.]] Magnum Ace 9:41 pm .... Bevel 9:41 pm Oh no. Whirl 9:41 pm pretty sure my pal Blurr takes "consume your foe" to a whole new level. Windchill 9:41 pm *Does the Pocahontas wave and takes a seat.* Magnum Ace 9:41 pm -doesn't like Blurr much, thanks- Windchill 9:41 pm Look at all of those pretend animals. *snorts* Magnum Ace 9:42 pm ....... Swoop 9:42 pm ((OH MY FUCKING GOD CHILD)) Whirl 9:42 pm Damn right. Magnum Ace 9:42 pm ((damnit kid Specs 9:42 pm Why doesn't he just attack Shere Khan? Windchill 9:42 pm He's wearing a diaper? Wow what a baby. Whirl 9:42 pm Nothing wrong with being the scariest thing in the jungle. Windchill 9:42 pm I'm impressed. Swoop 9:43 pm Him burn everything Magnum Ace 9:43 pm ((gdi kid Whirl 9:43 pm I mean, I'd do exactly what the tiger asked. Windchill 9:43 pm *chinhands.* *Wolves are overrated but okay.* Specs 9:44 pm I agree. The tiger wants to be destroyed? Fine by me. Whirl 9:44 pm Should've burned him when he gave you the chance. Swoop 9:44 pm Him bear lazy. Not lots of fighting. Tiger better. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:44 pm *Ravage snorts. Being a wolf and having a pack didn't save the lupine Steeljaw from him and the others.* Windchill 9:45 pm Pathetic. Bevel 9:45 pm Ha, distraction. Magnum Ace 9:45 pm -shouldn't they be trying to put out the fire?- Specs 9:45 pm *the dragon giggles a little. get him, earth ravage!* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:45 pm *Hiss.* Swoop 9:46 pm Everything burning really fast for GREEN leaves and stuff. Whirl 9:46 pm If the fire's hot enough, I guess. Windchill 9:46 pm Can he even breathe up there? Specs 9:47 pm Things being dry helps. But I can't imagine he can breathe up there. I couldn't, anyways. On the other paw, I would also probably be on fire, so. Windchill 9:47 pm Or see. His eyes would be watering enough to put out the fires all by themselves. Swoop 9:47 pm Being on fire pretty fun Windchill 9:47 pm Unrealistic. Specs 9:47 pm You're made of metal, Swoop. I am not. Swoop 9:48 pm Fire fun for everyone : > Magnum Ace 9:48 pm The tiger is not paying attention to danger Specs 9:48 pm ... *the dragon scoots away from the dinobot* Magnum Ace 9:48 pm He's too focused on revenge And no, fire is not fun for everyone Windchill 9:48 pm What the heck kind of tree looks like that? Kinda cool. I mean, for a tree. Specs 9:49 pm Ravage's cousin said it was a fig creeper? Windchill 9:49 pm *Maybe he'll look it up later.* Magnum Ace 9:49 pm -says the mech who sets one of his pitches on fire- ItsyBitsySpyers 9:50 pm =Poor hunter. No calm.= *Even in the prison riot, Ravage kept his cool while slaughtering the guards.* =No patience.= Windchill 9:50 pm Dirty boys. Swoop 9:50 pm That bad perch Magnum Ace 9:50 pm Dead tree Swoop 9:50 pm Creak creak Specs 9:50 pm That's why your cousin should have beaten him. u_u Magnum Ace 9:50 pm It's going to break Swoop 9:51 pm KAHHAHHAHH DEAD Specs 9:51 pm Dead. Whirl 9:51 pm Nice. Windchill 9:51 pm I guess he was flammable. Bevel 9:51 pm He won with tricks. Specs 9:51 pm If he's furry, he's flammable. Trust me. Swoop 9:51 pm Swing over fire look fun : > ItsyBitsySpyers 9:51 pm *Half-squint. Good. That would have been a fine lesson, if the tiger were Cybertronian. Too bad he's a flesh creature.* Bevel 9:51 pm Really good trick. Windchill 9:52 pm Ah yes, the fire that conveniently douses itself. Oh never mind, there it is. Kinda. Swoop 9:52 pm Bird Me Swoop want swing to play Whirl 9:52 pm ((the lick. bless)) Specs 9:52 pm ((bless panther and bear dad)) Windchill 9:52 pm Um. Bevel 9:52 pm ((I didn't notice that the last time Specs 9:53 pm *the dragon giggles a little. look at those proud docents. it's adorable.* Windchill 9:53 pm That is a giant baby elephant. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:53 pm *Soundwave leans forward a little. Are they building a-- they are. How fascinating. Do actual elephants do this?* Magnum Ace 9:54 pm Oh, wow Specs 9:54 pm Go clean off the hatchling, docent wolf. Windchill 9:54 pm Yeah okay. Swoop 9:54 pm There lot of wolves not lots of other animal who they eat Windchill 9:54 pm The wolves ate everyone else already? Swoop 9:55 pm kehehe, maybe! Specs 9:56 pm *gentle gasp* Docent wolf is the leader! Bevel 9:56 pm Or they mostly stay away. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:57 pm #:O #he did not go away! #that is a good end #I like it Swoop 9:57 pm ((oh, does he not go back in this one?)) Specs 9:57 pm *wiggles and taps* It looks like he doesn't, Zori! Windchill 9:57 pm Oh my god. Magnum Ace 9:57 pm That was...interesting Swoop 9:57 pm *bounces* Windchill 9:58 pm *Is that...it must be.* *His one true fear.* Bull 9:58 pm It wasn't too bad. Windchill 9:58 pm *CHRISTOPHER WALKEN.* *Goes bugeyed in horror.* Specs 9:58 pm *gets to gently flapping wings along with her boogeying* Bevel 9:59 pm *nods along to music* Magnum Ace 9:59 pm -settles again- Windchill 9:59 pm *What manner of evil is this?* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:59 pm #rude!! #they were walking! Swoop 10:00 pm KA! Book catch him. Windchill 10:00 pm *Horror has settled into a kind of annoyance.* *Finally, it's gone.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:00 pm [[Ah. So this is where this song is from.]] Windchill 10:01 pm Well. That was a movie I guess. Swoop 10:01 pm That movie pretty good. Even if no birds. Or dinosaurs. Or both. Windchill 10:01 pm There was a peacock. Swoop 10:01 pm Yeah Windchill 10:01 pm That's a bird. Swoop 10:01 pm but Windchill 10:01 pm I think. Swoop 10:01 pm him not do anything Windchill 10:01 pm That's true. Lazy bird. Swoop 10:02 pm Kehheh Bird not laaaaaaazy Her busy busy with eating keheh ItsyBitsySpyers 10:02 pm *Soundwave idly wonders if the serpent was telepathic. That eye trick was impressive.* Windchill 10:02 pm *Uses every last iota of control to not roll his eyeballs.* Eating is a good thing to be busy with. Swoop 10:03 pm yup Windchill 10:03 pm What if... I eat you? Swoop 10:03 pm No Specs 10:03 pm *the dragon stretches out* I think it's time to go back, before Whirl's friend eats me. Goodnight, everyone! *pat for Zori! pat for Chimera!* Swoop 10:04 pm Me Swoop keheh Me bite YOU Windchill 10:04 pm Yeah, I might just. Swoop 10:04 pm noOoo ItsyBitsySpyers 10:04 pm *Zori bleeps a goodbye, waving a pincer.*

#thank you for the cookie Windchill 10:04 pm Up and start eating people without warning. Whirl 10:04 pm Seeya, dragon. Swoop 10:04 pm That Grimlock thing kehehh Windchill 10:04 pm It could happen. Swoop 10:04 pm You not king Whirl 10:04 pm Windchill, I'm hoping you have enough self-control not to devour my friends. Windchill 10:04 pm *Waves at the retreating tasty morsel.* Specs 10:04 pm Always a pleasure to make cookies for my favorite micron. Seeya, Whirl! Windchill 10:05 pm Do you see me actively eating your friends right now? Whirl 10:05 pm *bobs his head goodbye* Windchill 10:05 pm They don't even look tasty. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:05 pm *Tiny gasp! Zori is a favorite? He's just gonna wiggle.* Whirl 10:05 pm No, but just because you're not up to doing something ridiculous NOW doesn't mean you won't later. Windchill 10:05 pm Well. Whirl 10:05 pm I know you too well. Windchill 10:05 pm To be fair. Swoop 10:05 pm *streeeeeeeeeeeeetches all his scrawny limbs out in many directions* *wings everywhere* Windchill 10:05 pm I haven't eaten anyone in a long time so it's either not really a problem, or I'm overdue. I guess we'll see. Wait. No. Do greyfaces count as people? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:06 pm [[Only some of them.]] Swoop 10:06 pm lots of people has GREY face Windchill 10:06 pm Oh, well. I've definitely eaten a few of those. Bevel 10:06 pm Greyfaces are annoying. Windchill 10:07 pm They don't mess with me much anymore, so. It paid off. Whirl 10:07 pm I don't count 'em as such, nope. Bull 10:07 pm 'Greyfaces'? *Bull Armor looks curious. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:07 pm [[Yes. They do seem to be quiet these days.]] Pause. [[He's not sure that is a good thing. It never has been before.]] Magnum Ace 10:07 pm They're annoying Windchill 10:08 pm Let's just say that I'm probably not planning on eating anyone. It's not really healthy for me. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:08 pm //Greyfaces. Y'know, the weird little grey things poppin' up sometimes, doin' 'n sayin' weird scrap.// Swoop 10:08 pm Not healthy for THEM kehhehh ItsyBitsySpyers 10:08 pm //Pow, 'n suddenly you got baseballs for eyes or somethin'.// Magnum Ace 10:08 pm Bull, the three days I couldn't practice was because of them Bevel 10:08 pm They do not bother me. *pleased* Windchill 10:08 pm Swoop's got the right idea. FakeProwl 10:08 pm *hears his name, looks up* ??? Bull 10:08 pm I have not run into any of them before. *unless they were talking about Sharky-dorgs* Swoop 10:09 pm Me Swoop have LOTS of right idea FakeProwl 10:09 pm *... no wait, that was "pow," not "Prowl." zones out again.* Windchill 10:09 pm I don't know about that, kiddo. Oh wait, excuse me. Swoop 10:09 pm :V Windchill 10:09 pm Not kiddo. Whirl 10:09 pm They've turned me into a bird at least once. Windchill 10:09 pm You're a big boy now. Swoop 10:09 pm Yah me Swoop have BIRTHDAY Whirl 10:09 pm But that was kinda fun, to be honest. Windchill 10:09 pm You're an old fart now! Swoop 10:09 pm Yup ItsyBitsySpyers 10:09 pm {{Bird remembers Whirlybird. Neheheheh. Skritches.}} Swoop 10:09 pm Me Swoop am 33 YEARS now Whirl 10:10 pm *immediately squints at Laserbeak. How dare you* Magnum Ace 10:10 pm I've heard they also turn you into humans on occasion Whirl 10:10 pm *but I mean. U right* Windchill 10:10 pm The bird was...I think I slept through most of that. Did I? Swoop 10:10 pm Scritches? 😮 Windchill 10:10 pm *Looks mildly alarmed.* Swoop 10:10 pm *where are they he wants the scritches* Windchill 10:11 pm *Windchill has claws he can scritch like a DEMON.* Bevel 10:11 pm They turned my creator into a human once. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:11 pm *Fight her, Whirl. She has a Dinobot.* Swoop 10:11 pm *is a dinobot* Whirl 10:11 pm *you know whirl would happily fight a dinobot* Windchill 10:11 pm *Windchill would fight anyone.* Whirl 10:12 pm I'm not going to remind you of the things you said when I was a bird. Windchill 10:12 pm *Doesn't mean he would WIN, 'specially not on purpose. But he would fight.* Whirl 10:12 pm Not being able to talk was a little irritating, but I could taste, so... even trade. Magnum Ace 10:12 pm They sound like they cause chaos Windchill 10:12 pm I remember I kissed your bird head. And the deposit made in my mouth. Swoop 10:12 pm Whirl was bird? Whirl 10:12 pm Also being the same size of these mooks *sidelong glance to the twins* was a novel experience. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:12 pm [[They are helpful on occasion.]] Windchill 10:12 pm That's about it. Whirl 10:12 pm Briefly, yep. Thanks to the greyfaces. Swoop 10:13 pm *flaps his wings* Fun HUH? Magnum Ace 10:13 pm Helpful? What I've heard is mostly...not Windchill 10:13 pm *Has noticed that they seem to be listening to real music.* Bull 10:13 pm *is even more confused* Windchill 10:14 pm I don't think I've met a helpful greyface in my life. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:14 pm [[Oh, yes. Now and then one of them will act on a shred of kindness. They have assisted him a few times before.]] Whirl 10:14 pm Oh, yeah. Analogue flight is great. I had the best of both worlds--analogue wings AND rotor arrays. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:14 pm *Rumble snorts.*

//You oughta be our size more often. Get away with LOADS more scrap, heh.// Swoop 10:15 pm *grins at whirl* wicked Windchill 10:15 pm Granted, seeing as I've taken to killing them when they piss me off, which is all the time, they're probably not much inclined to be nice to me. Whirl 10:15 pm Just goes to show you how good I am at getting away with stuff now, while I'm huge. *smugly* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:15 pm *Rumble's mouth opens and closes for a moment before he just shrugs.*

//Yeah, I can't argue that. Like, at all.// Magnum Ace 10:16 pm . . . All right then... Whirl 10:16 pm *snickers* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:17 pm *Soundwave thinks back to how he used to handle some of his worse greyfaces and looks over at Prowl. Too bad he can't ever talk about it. It would probably amuse the mech to find out an alternate was responsible for convincing him to stop.* FakeProwl 10:17 pm *~oblivious~* Magnum Ace 10:17 pm So...will they stop if I ignore them? Windchill 10:18 pm ...Maybe. Bevel 10:18 pm Or they might get worse. Swoop 10:18 pm Bird Windchill 10:19 pm Smushing 'em's easier. Magnum Ace 10:19 pm . . . Swoop 10:19 pm *is oblivious to the soundrack of his future playing in the background* Magnum Ace 10:19 pm I'm not as large as almost /all/ of you ItsyBitsySpyers 10:19 pm *There's reasons he's not using the ones with video footage. That's for another night.* Windchill 10:19 pm Greyfaces are small. Whirl 10:19 pm They go away eventually. I haven't seen one in a long, long time. Magnum Ace 10:20 pm So ignoring them should work? Swoop 10:20 pm Bird, you see grey magic stuff before? Windchill 10:20 pm It's worth a try. Bevel 10:20 pm I only saw them when I was a newbuild. Magnum Ace 10:21 pm -he'd rather not be on the bench for three or more days again- Windchill 10:21 pm But if they rain dildos on your head or make you bleed from your unmentionables...don't say you weren't warned. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:21 pm {{Lots, many many. Them bother Boss most timing, not Bird much. Quiet now. Questions, not many trick.}} Magnum Ace 10:21 pm What and what? Windchill 10:21 pm ... Let's just say that I have a reason to kill them on sight these days. Several reasons. Magnum Ace 10:21 pm ? Swoop 10:22 pm Oh. Neat! Me Swoop.... umm.... dunno... *legitimately cannot recall if this is a thing that happened before to him, given that he's from a pretty batty universe to start with* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:22 pm [[He prefers the ones who ask questions.]] *Taps his leg, thinking.* [[Not that the inhabitants of the multiverse aren't capable of bizarre or unpleasant things all by themselves.]] Bull 10:22 pm .... ItsyBitsySpyers 10:23 pm [[But at least they have never convinced a small horde of sentient insects to crown him their king.]] Windchill 10:23 pm *Feels personally attacked.* Bevel 10:23 pm *giggles* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:23 pm *Glance at Bevel. He hears you.* Swoop 10:24 pm *glances over at the speakers and feels kind of weird, can't explain why, he's just glad the song is over* Bevel 10:24 pm *giggles harder* Windchill 10:24 pm Anyway, greyfaces are generally stupid and do the same things over and over. Magnum Ace 10:25 pm ..... Windchill 10:25 pm *Or, would if he hadn't put a dent in their population.* Magnum Ace 10:25 pm I really have no idea what you are talking about. But okay Windchill 10:25 pm That's probably a good thing. Swoop 10:26 pm *scrunches up his nose* what noise? Windchill 10:27 pm *Tries to not snicker at Swoop's face.* *Fails.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:28 pm [[Music.]] Swoop 10:28 pm *rolls his optics at soundwave* Windchill 10:28 pm Him Swoop no like? Swoop 10:28 pm Me Swoop like HER BIRD music : > ItsyBitsySpyers 10:29 pm [[Then you can attend the next newbuild night to listen to it.]] Bevel 10:29 pm I like it. Swoop 10:29 pm Me Swoop not NEWbuilt. Me 33 now. Windchill 10:30 pm That's right. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:30 pm [[You are under two million. You are a newbuild.]] Magnum Ace 10:30 pm ... Windchill 10:30 pm Our little baby is...*makes a dramatic show of wiping away a tear.* ...all grown up. I'm so proud. Swoop 10:30 pm Two million is SOOOO MANY! Magnum Ace 10:30 pm -RIGHT! Not going to ask ages now, they have to be up early tomorrow- ItsyBitsySpyers 10:30 pm \\HE'S *YOUR* KID? THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH.\\ *Ask them ages next time. It'll be a hoot.* Windchill 10:31 pm No, thank Primus. Well. FakeProwl 10:31 pm *at some point, Prowl gradually became conscious of the fact that there is not, in fact, a movie playing anymore.* Windchill 10:31 pm I mean. Magnum Ace 10:31 pm Soundwave? Can we get assistance home now? Bevel 10:31 pm *welcome to the after party, prowl* FakeProwl 10:31 pm *he started picking up on the conversation again somewhere around the time Soundwave said that anyone under two million was a newbuild.* Windchill 10:31 pm If he were he probably wouldn't have turned out like that, so you're mileage may vary. FakeProwl 10:32 pm *looks at Soundwave like that's the wildest thing he's ever heard.* *admittedly, his "that's wild" face is a 😐 face, but still.* Swoop 10:32 pm Two million SO SO MANY Magnum Ace 10:32 pm -he will and probably just /stare/- ItsyBitsySpyers 10:32 pm [[...What? No it isn't. Not here.]] Windchill 10:32 pm Is it? *Legitimately doesn't know.* Swoop 10:32 pm Uh huh Windchill 10:32 pm Huh. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:33 pm *Looks at Prowl. How is that surprising? You know how old he is.* Windchill 10:33 pm I've been told a million is a lot. FakeProwl 10:33 pm *you're considered a newbuild until you're TWO MILLION?* Magnum Ace 10:33 pm ...... FakeProwl 10:33 pm *TWO? MILLION?* Magnum Ace 10:33 pm Wait Wait, hold on Two million years? Swoop 10:33 pm Me Swoop aaaaaaaaaaalmost 50! That a loooootttt, Soundwave. Not a newbuilt. Bevel 10:34 pm My creator is like fifty million. *she might have added a couple million there* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:34 pm //So's Bird.//

{{NO! Not fifty!}} Mutter mutter sounds like forty-something. Bull 10:34 pm Million? ... ItsyBitsySpyers 10:34 pm \\WE'RE LONG-LIVED, BUDDY.\\ Swoop 10:34 pm How old Bird is? *giggles* Magnum Ace 10:35 pm I can tell. Bevel 10:35 pm *waves her hand dismissively and grins* Close enough! FakeProwl 10:35 pm ... I'd spent over half my life at war when I hit two million. Windchill 10:35 pm Is a gazillion a big number? *He's heard that one before, too.* Magnum Ace 10:35 pm . . . Can we go home now? FakeProwl 10:35 pm In your universe, mechs aren't even considered competent to make their own decisions until then? Bevel 10:36 pm We can make decisions before two million! ItsyBitsySpyers 10:36 pm [[Your timeline is shorter. He would not count y-- one moment.]] To the Leaguers: [[There will be a bridge waiting outside when you are ready to take it. Try not to dwell on the age matter too much.]] Magnum Ace 10:36 pm -nods- Okay...and thank you Swoop 10:37 pm Two million toooo maaanyyyy. Me Swoop can kill mech TODAY. That grown up thing. Bull 10:37 pm Umm, thanks. Maybe see you guys next week. *waves* Bevel 10:37 pm That is because it is different in your universe. Magnum Ace 10:37 pm -scrambles down and out. Time to get home- Good night Windchill 10:38 pm *Waves because it's polite to acknowledge people or something to that effect.* Swoop 10:39 pm Me Swoop want to see Bird doing music thing LOTS! Not wait for Neeeewbuilt Night. That for BABIES. Windchill 10:39 pm Oh... ItsyBitsySpyers 10:39 pm [[Where was he... two million. Yes. Technically it is one and a half million years, but with so many records missing and different planetary schedules he finds it easier to check a whole number.]] Windchill 10:39 pm So that means I can go? Swoop 10:39 pm (( every time swoop says the word baby or babies, he WILL say it like https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFzXIplizck )) Bevel 10:40 pm *not going to dwell on the fact that she's been fighting and killing since she figured out how to really transform* Windchill 10:40 pm (( Oh my god. )) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:40 pm //How old are ya, Windchill?// Whirl 10:40 pm ((omg im sorry if anyone said anything to whirl i got distracted by an extremely cute beetle)) Swoop 10:40 pm *was conceived for badass 80s murder specifically and has no idea what adult night could possibly be where he isn't allowed to attend* Windchill 10:40 pm Wheh? FakeProwl 10:40 pm ((share it)) Windchill 10:40 pm (( I saw ur beetle post I would be distracted by that precious nibbler 2 )) Uh. I don't do math and so don't know how old I am. Swoop 10:41 pm Bird, Bird. Tell Him Soundwave that Me Swoop not a baaaby. Me can do ANYTHING. Dinobots can do anything! And listen to Bird music is a thing! Whirl 10:41 pm (( http://megaweapon.tumblr.com/post/167964851515/thebabys-exoskeleton-has-darkened-completely-now )) Windchill 10:41 pm It's a mystery...it's history... Whirl 10:41 pm ((uhh that didn't... paste quite right bit ot's a video of the beetle being cute)) FakeProwl 10:42 pm ((what a cute)) Whirl 10:42 pm Yeah, I was grown long before I was two million, too. Swoop 10:42 pm You Whirl tell Soundwave too! Tell Him that Me Swoop can go to Dancitron on NOT Newbuilt Night. Windchill 10:42 pm *Furrows his brows.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:43 pm @Prowl: (txt): What reason, surprise? [[It is his business. He will restrict you to the night he considers appropriate.]] Swoop 10:43 pm :V Bevel 10:43 pm I am two million so I do not have to go to newbuild night anymore. *she really should go to Dancitron on a regular night sometime huh* Swoop 10:43 pm What APPROPRIATE? Whirl 10:44 pm Pfft, as if, Swoop, this isn't MY house. Swoop 10:44 pm Dinobots NEVER appropriate Windchill 10:44 pm *Snorts.* Hell yeah, that's the right attitude. *He's never appropriate either.* Whirl 10:44 pm *looks to the twins* How old're you two, anyway? If you told me, I've already forgot. FakeProwl 10:44 pm @Soundwave «That seems an absurdly long time for a person to be blundering about too cluelessly to be trusted to handle his own life.» Swoop 10:45 pm *back swoop up here, prowl* *LetTheDinoDrink2018* FakeProwl 10:45 pm *oh no, you should absolutely not be trusted around narcotics of any kind* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:45 pm //We're, uh... 20 million?// \\18 MILLION.\\ //Frag it. Somewhere in there. Busted chronometers, y'know.// Death'll do that. Windchill 10:45 pm *Briefly wonders if he might be a baby by comparison to anyone else...decides not to worry about it.* Swoop 10:46 pm *whines* Biiird Bevel 10:46 pm You were dead? Windchill 10:46 pm *He's pretty sure that he's older than Swoop, so good enough.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:46 pm {{Bird never dead, what you talking about? Peh.}} Swoop 10:46 pm ((windchill and swoop at newbuilt night)) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:47 pm {{What Swoop?}} Whirl 10:47 pm Well. ...damn. Bevel 10:47 pm *so confused* Whirl 10:47 pm That's a long time to be alive. *what an INTELLIGENT AND THOUGHTFUL RESPONSE WHIRL* Swoop 10:47 pm Me Swoop want to listen to You Bird. Newbuilt Night, no Newbuilt Night. : < Whirl 10:47 pm *he's honestly a bit flabbergasted* Windchill 10:47 pm (( That would be...bad. )) Bevel 10:47 pm I guess. *shrugs* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:47 pm {{You swoop Newbuild. You go that night.}} Swoop 10:48 pm 💔 *u cut him deep bord* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:49 pm @Prowl: (txt): Not blundering. Soundwave explains; patience requested. Windchill 10:50 pm *Crosses his legs.* FakeProwl 10:50 pm *acknowledging ping* Swoop 10:50 pm : < Windchill 10:51 pm Numbers schmumbers. Swoop 10:51 pm yeAH Windchill 10:51 pm *What.* Swoop 10:51 pm Me Swoop can do anything 2 million year bot do : < Windchill 10:51 pm Except display a modicum of common sense or rational decision making. Swoop 10:52 pm You meet Huffer? kehehhh Windchill 10:52 pm ... Does he do drugs? Bevel 10:52 pm Huffer whines a lot. Windchill 10:52 pm I would too, with a name like that. Swoop 10:52 pm Huffer get smack a lot kehheeh For say dumb stuff AT bots Windchill 10:53 pm Wow. He gets smacked...for saying dumb stuff? Swoop 10:53 pm Yup Windchill 10:53 pm Huh. Bevel 10:53 pm That is mean. Windchill 10:53 pm I wonder how much of MY life that explains. *Not enough of it.* Actually. Swoop 10:54 pm Him Grimlock say Him eat Huffer but Huffer kehhh Huffer probably give tank ache kee Windchill 10:54 pm Most of my recent smackings are for putting my mouth on Whirl so that's warranted. Whirl 10:54 pm Damn right. Windchill 10:54 pm Yeah. That's how I consent to being smacked. Swoop 10:55 pm (( my personal favorite huffer pic http://tfwiki.net/mediawiki/images2/4/4f/DivideandConquer_shutupHuffer.jpg )) Windchill 10:55 pm I ask for it. Whirl 10:55 pm Don't YOU get any bright ideas, neither. *peers at Swoop* Bevel 10:55 pm *can't argue there, she's punched bots for similar* Swoop 10:55 pm Bright idea? Windchill 10:55 pm (( BEautiful. )) Bevel 10:55 pm ((omg Ironhide plz FakeProwl 10:56 pm ((i looked at optimus's chest and i first i thought that was a nightmarish upside-down reflection of optimus's face)) Bevel 10:56 pm ((his whole hand fits over his face i can't Whirl 10:56 pm If you didn't get it right away, I ain't explaining. Bevel 10:56 pm ((i did too puff Swoop 10:56 pm Him bite you? Windchill 10:56 pm I think what Whirl means to say, is...don't have any ideas at all. *Gasps in faux offense at this insinuation.* Windchill 10:58 pm *As if Windchill has ever been anything but a gentle lover.* Swoop 10:58 pm ??? Whirl 10:58 pm I don't know who you're asking what, at this point. Windchill 10:58 pm *Except when he's not and legit bites people.* Swoop 10:58 pm *points to windchill* Him bite you *points to whirl* Whirl 10:58 pm Nope. Why the hell would he BITE me? Swoop 10:59 pm *cocks his head, has no idea what we're talking about oanymore* Windchill 10:59 pm Because you're so tasty, Whirl. I just can't help myself. Whirl 10:59 pm Don't you start spreading rumors about me. Windchill 10:59 pm Mmmmhmmmm. Bevel 10:59 pm Ew. Windchill 10:59 pm *Licks his lips grossly.* Sorry. Old habits. Whirl 10:59 pm Ugh. Windchill 11:00 pm I love rumours. They're like a disease. Swoop 11:00 pm *blows raspberries at this whole conversation* Bevel 11:00 pm *...not sure if she imagined that apology, what's in this drink?* Windchill 11:00 pm Anyway. Swoop 11:01 pm Bird! Me Swoop want to go play. With you! Windchill 11:01 pm I'm hardly the one spreading rumours when you've got everyone lined up to feast on your corpse the moment you kick the bucket. Has nothing to do with ME. Whirl 11:01 pm I've got exactly ONE PERSON. Windchill 11:02 pm Yeah, and he's lining up. I'd eat you if you'd share. So selfish. I mean. Think about it. I could eat you and you would be a part of me. /Forever./ Bevel 11:02 pm *gonna pet Chimera instead of being part of this conversation yep* Whirl 11:03 pm That's horrifying. Windchill 11:03 pm I know. Whirl 11:03 pm And my cue to leave. This has officially gotten too weird for me. *streeetches* Windchill 11:03 pm I have a macabre sense of humour, I can't believe you haven't noticed already. Whirl 11:03 pm Catch you losers later. Bevel 11:03 pm Night, Whirl! Windchill 11:03 pm Bye, sucker. Have fun with your space boat... Without me... FakeProwl 11:04 pm *if Bevel wanted to avoid the conversation, she should have planned ahead like Prowl and not gotten adequate sleep for three weeks. It makes it very easy to zone out.* *although, admittedly, very hard to do anything else.* Windchill 11:04 pm Actually it'd be cool if you showed some pics sometime. Whirl 11:04 pm When it's actually fixed up I'll invite you lot over, or something. Windchill 11:05 pm That's fair. Swoop 11:05 pm Bird. Me Swoop want to stay with You :X Windchill 11:05 pm Maybe I'll even bring that butt I owe you. You can mount it on your dashboard. That would be fun to explain. Whirl 11:05 pm Y'know, I think I'll pass on THAT... but you did just give me an idea. Bevel 11:06 pm *like pay attention to the movie but she'll consider it in the future* Windchill 11:06 pm You're welcome. I honestly haven't found a butt yet. Since MINE isn't good enough for you. *turns up his noseless face. Snubbed.* At this rate I'll probably have to resort to killing someone to take their butt as a trophy. Which is horrible. Whirl 11:07 pm Sorry, I'm very selective about my butts, mech. Windchill 11:07 pm You're not sorry in the slightest. Whirl 11:08 pm Okay, fair. I'm not. *hops up* Windchill 11:08 pm It's okay, I forgive you. *Shoos Whirl away. Shoo!* Windchill 11:10 pm *Is honestly more shocked that nobody seems to have a problem with him killing someone to steal their butt than anything.* Swoop 11:11 pm *would kill for shits and giggles so...( ** Bevel 11:12 pm *has killed for money?* *or whatever counts for money in some universes, energon, ship parts, whatever* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:12 pm @Prowl: (txt): Underworld traversed after creation. Dangerous terrain, horrific creatures, strange mechs. Blundering survivors: rare.

Aboveground, decisions made. Purpose, rank, location. Transfers effected. There, additional knowledge given. Work, social, life navigation, government propaganda... last, most required. All more, if high caste.

Low caste mechs often released early. This, not considered problem - dead unfinished low-caste newbuild: unimportant, replaceable.

Soundwave believes all deserve full time. Second opinion: Soundwave's timeline: ancient; much learning required. Survivors: experienced warriors. Time understanding, navigating new society, learning self-protection: vital. This, neutral zone. Safe place. Soundwave refuses assistance, situations: fresh faction persuasion, war restart; association without appropriate identity awareness; potential mental, physical, legal endangerment; other.

If exception requested, source: Prowl timeline mech, personal judgment formed Windchill 11:12 pm *Disgusting, all of you.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:12 pm Span differences already known. Here, two million rule: firm. Swoop 11:14 pm *is going to eat this entire dish of treats one after another while staring at Bird, play with him gdi* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:14 pm *WHOO now i can read what i was missing* Bevel 11:14 pm *mercenary thank you* Swoop 11:14 pm ((writing a book there cro)) ItsyBitsySpyers 11:15 pm ((there's a lot of HC behind his rule and i have to condense it and then condense it more into his speech ;; )) Windchill 11:15 pm *Probably killed more people, if you count organics, than anyone in this room, by virtue of being a Decepticon. Still judging you for not judging.* Swoop 11:16 pm ((no rush! I'm rewatching that video with the SICK Lucio player with King of Swing for the song lol)) ItsyBitsySpyers 11:16 pm *Soundwave would contest that claim, but frankly he'd rather not bring up how much death he's personally responsible for. And Prowl can make his own claim, though Soundwave would suspect he's sort of the hands-through-someone-else variety.* FakeProwl 11:17 pm @Soundwave «... It takes you a full two million years to learn the bare minimum needed to function well enough to go to a regular bar?» *That sounds to Prowl like either pathetically weak learning retention abilities or an extreme disregard for the basic intelligence and competence of mechs who had reached maturity but had yet to reach an arbitrarily high benchmark to qualify for adulthood.* Windchill 11:17 pm *It's okay because Windchill can't count.* *So we'll never know.* Swoop 11:17 pm *is at a crippling murder disadvantage by virtue of his age and the small number of surviving Cybertronians at the tme of his birth and would be SO OFFENDED if this was part of the conversation out loud* FakeProwl 11:17 pm *Prowl will make no claim because it would involve jumping into a conversation he isn't even hearing.* Bevel 11:18 pm *Bevel doesn't take anything Windchill says seriously so she won't judge anything he says as she's pretty sure it's a lie to get someone to react* Windchill 11:18 pm *One day, Swoop, one day.* *He tells the truth most of the time. Short of the rhino sweat incident and some stupid thing he might have said last week.* *It's complicated.* Bevel 11:20 pm *so many conversations not actually happening ha* Windchill 11:20 pm *It's for the best.* Whirl 11:20 pm *slinks off* Windchill 11:20 pm *YELLS.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:20 pm *The twins wave as Whirl goes* Windchill 11:20 pm BYE SUCKERRRRR. Bevel 11:20 pm *you're still here?* Swoop 11:20 pm *licks this dumb plate clean* Windchill 11:21 pm *Sniffs.* Bevel 11:21 pm *no wait there he go* Windchill 11:21 pm *Wipes away another tear.* I'll miss him... *Hand over spark.* I'll never forget you, Whirl. Bevel 11:23 pm *gently coaxes Chimera awake* I have to leave now and I do not think Soundwave will let me take you home. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:24 pm [[It will do them good to be around others who do not mind them. Go ahead.]] Bevel 11:24 pm Awesome 🙂 Swoop 11:24 pm *chirps* Windchill 11:25 pm *Makes a face.* Bevel 11:26 pm *then she will be taking her new arm band and heading out, but not before bidding everyone goodnight and waving* Windchill 11:26 pm *Waves casually.* Swoop 11:28 pm *pat pats at Bird* Me Swoop want to play now ItsyBitsySpyers 11:28 pm {{We go.}} Swoop 11:28 pm : > Kaaaay *follows Bird off to whatever Activity she picks* Windchill 11:29 pm This feels anticlimatic. I feel...hungry. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:37 pm @Prowl: (txt): Soundwave stated two million years considered maximum. Reminder: Most time spent before: government. Importance reduction: severe. Society also broken, changed; less learning time required.

However, Soundwave's duty: protect patrons. Cannot perform, defend self/business if established guideline: ignored, new risks: ignored. Therefore, all elevated, level: former full high caste time requirement.

*Small shrugs. It was the best he could do for himself and the newbuilds with how the world has changed.* Windchill 11:38 pm *Time to FEED.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:39 pm *Take some of the snacks with you. There's always tons of them, thanks to Laserbeak's appetite and the dragon's supplying.* Windchill 11:39 pm *Probably not on people.* *Nope.* Windchill 11:41 pm *Has been perpetually starving since the war began, it's easier to forego snacks altogether than test his self control and risk eating all of them.* FakeProwl 11:41 pm @Soundwave «... That's still a massive maximum.» Windchill 11:41 pm *THAT WOULD BE GREEDY.* Windchill 11:42 pm *He has enough guilt to deal with without adding that nonsense to it.* *Creeps out like a creeper.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:43 pm *Soundwave pings Windchill goodnight as he leaves.* Windchill 11:43 pm *Ew, he's been spotted.* *FLEES.* *Flees RUDELY.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:47 pm @Prowl: (txt): Remedy's age: 83 million. Alpha Trion--

*Never mind how old Soundwave thinks that mech actually is.*

--Older. Soundwave's belief: native newbuilds coping capability: high.

Noted side benefit: peaceful club nights. Death threats, brawls, unpleasant historical descriptions: rare. Good balance. FakeProwl 11:50 pm "Coping capability"? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:51 pm (txt): Rule acceptance, fuss: minimum. FakeProwl 11:52 pm ... You're... saying they have an unusually high natural inclination toward unquestioning compliance? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:53 pm (txt): Negative.

*And he looks vaguely alarmed by the idea, sitting up straight.*

(txt): Suggestion: If expected lifespan exceeds twenty times restriction length/higher, restriction length: minor inconvenience. FakeProwl 11:54 pm ... You're suggesting that youth are patient? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:55 pm (txt): Prowl knows comparable alternative location? FakeProwl 11:55 pm ... Location? *when did they switch from talking about ages to talking about places?* Yesterday ItsyBitsySpyers 11:58 pm (txt): Affirmative. If visitation desire: retained, comparable location: unknown/inaccessible, patience: enforced.

*Pause.*

(txt): Unless comparable location BUILT. Permitted, difficult, unlikely. FakeProwl 12:01 am ... Oh, you're talking about permission to visit your bar. No, I don't c— I'm not talking about that. I'm just, trying to get a grasp of your universe's conception of maturity. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:11 am (txt): Difficult. Known, understood framework: outdated, unrelated, irrelevant. What importance, full Vosian political behavioral knowledge, proven handling ability? Vos: ruined. Political structure: gone. Titles: unimportant. Negative. Alternative: Underworld escape success? Basic wilderness survival skills possessed upon emergence; nothing else known.

Total time after ceasefire, initial newbuild reappearance: <5 years. New concept not possessed. FakeProwl 12:13 am But even as it was before your war, I can't get my head around— Here, let me illustrate this. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:13 am *Settles in to listen.* FakeProwl 12:14 am *And when he says "illustrate" he means "use math," of course.* FakeProwl 12:15 am The oldest mechs in your universe can reach, from the sound of it, around a hundred million years. Is that a fair estimate? A hundred million for you, and for my universe—as far as we know—it's more like ten million. So based on our known recorded histories, your mechs max out at about ten times older than my mechs. Ten times. But it takes your mechs fifty MILLION times longer to be considered matured. FakeProwl 12:17 am So, even taking the proportional ages of mechs in your universe and in my universe into account... I'm—I'm trying to figure out what you spend all that time doing. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:32 am (txt): Education, practice, social connection, monitored activities; all extended lengths. In false memories, many centuries practicing single skill until perfect. Time spent not problem when upward mobility, personal activity choice: minimal.

(txt): ...That, if fortunate. Majority not included. Recall statements: "low caste mechs often released early", "low caste newbuild: unimportant, replaceable". Well always creating. Brief instruction, basic knowledge, early removal/termination. [][][]All that time[][][] expectation: not long, if theirs. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:34 am *In other words, if you were lucky you did what you were always going to do over and over and over because nobody else was vacating their position. And if you weren't, it didn't really matter.* FakeProwl 12:39 am Yes, I heard the part about the low caste mechs. It's unfortunate but irrelevant to my point. When I said fifty million times longer, that's ALL our mechs—including the very top of the social hierarchy, the mechs that probably got little gold stars next to their alt-modes in the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy. Our proto-senators didn't spend any more time being prepared for the world than our flashlights, and—by the sound of it—that time was shorter than even your most oppressed. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:52 am (txt): Perhaps Prowl's timeline efficiency: higher, stagnation: lower? Similar events achieved within span fraction.

(txt): Perhaps two million years not true required time reflection. Instead, average time between upper caste position vacancies. Then, stalling, new maturity line required.

(txt): Perhaps direct math: nonapplicable. Earth horses, walking within minutes. Earth humans, full year.

(txt): All unknown. Apologies. FakeProwl 12:56 am ... Maybe. *vaguely, to any and all of the above.* Sorry, I—don't think I'm... equipped, currently, for speculating on all this. *How many times had he had to ask Soundwave to clarify what he was saying? Forget trying to make sense of WHAT Soundwave was saying, Prowl was barely keeping up with HOW he was saying—* *He'd forgotten to give Soundwave permission for telepathy. The whole night. He goes very still, and turns his optics off. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.* ... I should go home. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:59 am *He will return the light knee touch, though it's more of a rest than a pat. Patting seems like it'd come off as patronizing right now.*

(txt): If Prowl desires. Recharge: important; age discussion postponement: acceptable. Rest. Soundwave sees soon. FakeProwl 1:01 am *Recharge. Yeah. That'd be nice.* Evening. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:02 am (txt): Goodnight. FakeProwl 1:02 am *And with that, he disappears.* ItsyBitsySpyers 1:06 am *Soundwave opts to spend the night on the couch, and after about an hour spent wondering why Prowl has insomnia instead of getting to sleep himself, he'll pull the generator out and tuck it close by. Uneasy rest happens after that.*

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