#that poor chocobo came closer to tipping them than they did to it tbh

[whitherwanderer]

(( with @dragons-ire​! ))

"See tha' 'bo closer t' us?" she asks him, tilting her head towards the peacefully roosting bird in question. It's front was turned towards them, one large, clawed foot clasped into a loose grip against its fully fluffed belly. From their perspective, the bird seemed headless— its neck twisting fully towards its tail as it beak was tucked securely under a wing. A wing twitched, and its tail ruffled ever-so-gently. Dreaming, one might assume, of gysahl green fields and troughs full of Thavnarian onions. Sif looks back at him, mischief spelled clear across the dim glint of pyrite in her eyes. "We're gonna tip it.”

Breandan Ducaille listens, then lifts his gaze to peer over Sif's hat like he's looking out of a Bozjan trench, then back. Serious. Highly focused on the task at hand. "You know." He chimes in. "Sometimes, they'll sleep with a rock in one claw. If they wake up, they'll drop it to alert the rest of the flock. Like cranes." his tone evens out a little at the telling, the line of tension in his jaw unwinding a little. Then, he looks back at the bird. "That's....isn't that kinda mean?" He asks with a tiny quirk of a smile.