Empty... Small brown hands checked the trap to see if it had been sprung before. No, it was just empty. With a sigh and a grunt she stood, bracing herself against a worn spear. Rivian hated this time of year. Soggy and cold, plants were laying down to rest. It was just roots roots and more roots, dehydrated berries, herbal teas, and more roots from now until the sprigs of fresh greens in spring. At least she usually had small game to eat but that had gotten a lot more scarce lately. She no longer had a wolf friend to hunt for them both anymore. Or a fairy lover to bring in more game and spill its blood on the dirt before eating it raw. He had left some time ago, promising to return. But it had been a year and she was sure he would never return. She had to figure this out herself or die trying. He had told her he hadn't been ready to take a bride when they met and she had always been scared that everytime he left it would be the last time she saw him.

It was. It was months before she finally accepted it. Time moved differently for the fair folk anyway. He probably left because she was too clingy. Regardless, she couldn't dwell on it. She could only look forward. It was nice while it lasted, but the future now wasn't built on extravagant dreams of castles and cloth.

She came upon another trap and just stood there under the tree staring blankly at it. Set and waiting still. Not even nibbled on. The game had been getting sparser and sparser around these parts. The roots from her garden getting thinner and thinner each year.

With a sigh she looked up from under her ragged leather hood into the canopy of the drippy forest. It wasn't quite cold enough for snow yet, but she could feel the bite on the wind.

She picked up the trap and stowed it away. She'd have to go further into the woods to find better game, and it was already quite the walk from her ramshackle cottage. Soon she might as well start moving out and find a new place to call home. With winter so close though she knew setting out without a roof overhead was a death sentence. But it might be a death sentence to stay and perhaps starve to death before spring came. Such was the conversation every year, but, as she passed another empty trap to stow away in her bag, she felt like spring would just be too far away this time.

Using her spear as a walking stick the tiny woman came to a gurgling brook. The autumn rains had filled it back to brimming from drying up during the summer. She paused and leaned over the water, she reached out with a naked hand and brushed the surface of the water. Bone death cold shot up her arm. She recoiled slightly, drawing her arm back. Then with a soft hum on her lips she reached back out, hovered over the stream then dove her hand straight in and came back out with a smooth bright white rock the size and color of a fresh white egg. Singing softly in a strange shamanic tongue she held it up to the mid morning light and traced the faint striations that ran through the white quartz. She then dug into a pocket and pulled out a dark smooth stone, it had a small round hole in it. She held them up together, trying to match the striations.

Suddenly, she paused in her divining and slowly lowered her arms, holding her breath, the song dead in the air. She felt a distinct presence nearby, and its focus had shifted to her. Her hood was up and she couldn't tell if the thing was dangerous or perhaps just a large deer or moose passing by. She had no idea how long it had been there.

@TranquilTempest

#d11755

In the rare occurrence he was ever chided at (which was extremely rare because Itai never did anything wrong ever), there was only one who was allowed to get away with it. The moment she came upon the scene the hellion diminished just a tad, eyes watching her movements like a hawk and ears listening to every soft spoken word. Though he outranked her, she had and would always out class him. In that instant he felt his head bow and his mouth clench shut.

It was a learned thing, his bloodline a polluted mishmosh of hellion, it didn't span as far back as any of the aviari did, especially not as far back as the crystaline. Though his family served them, it was considered one of the highest honors, one he was certainly proud of. Now it was a family legacy to live up to, which he was more than sure he'd be capable of, but still something made him anxious at the idea.

Curiosity struck them all when the trio had appeared in the mangroves, and with an aviari in tow as well. It was completely unheard of that any aviari would simply be in the outside world, and even Itai had cut his eyes at the dark blue hues. Immediately returning to his alcove to search over the files, taking a stack with him the morning after. This was an important discover, and there was only one other that would find it just as interesting as he did. (So he hoped.)

Stepping carefully around the stone temples, eyeing the pyramids far away, the bird song of morning filling the air with noise as a light mist coated the ground. However, the Roc of Wings had found who he was looking for, stepping into the shade of a large elephant ear plant, dipping his head respectfully, if he bowed any lower his face would literally be against the ground. "I hope I'm not disrupting you, Miriam. I-I..." The words hesitated in his throat and he grimaced, not able to meet her gaze if she even cared to look at him. "I've found something worth noting in the scrolls, about that strange aviari."

Claws pulled delicately at the parchment paper, unfurling the scroll so it laid before them, stained and weathered by time, on it was extensive information, but the name and most of the answers were smeared and burned away leaving it unreadable. "They've been annulled from these texts, there is no history of him being in the tribe... That I can kind in the very least, and I am extensive when it comes to these sorts of things." Itai wouldn't allow for a blemish to be smeared upon his family name, they've always been thorough in their work. "But with plumage like that, and the coloration, perhaps a Riverine? Dare I say even a Sapphire." Lip curled distastefully at that thought.

@Frost

#d11755

News would travel quickly enough through the tribe and he had to make sure that all their bases were covered, even if he'd rather be digging his face into those scrolls and reading over old bits of history, there was always something new he could glean from those weather worn pages, and always things to add.

But now, Itai would take it upon himself to deal with one of El Dorado's more problematic members. The hellion already knew that Aine couldn't be trusted with such a duty, she had already begun showing signs of failure in her current job, what a pity. He could almost scoff at the thought, incompetence spread like a disease and if you could isolate the problem areas you could amputate it quite easily.

The jungle that surrounded them was full of life, even as the sun pulled its way to the late noon hours, the Roc of Wings stalked the market place with purpose, head curled inward like a swan and steps poised and limber like a cat's. It was that sort of flouncy behavior that earned him raised brows and quiet jeers from the surrounding public that went about their daily tasks, he was just a hellion attempting to copy the Aviari way of life, but it was all he knew how to do.

Strapped to his side was a strange contraption, one that would make or break this upcoming situation. A pouch of water, configured to the head of a thick straw all woven and melded together to form an extremely crude spray bottle of sorts. Finally when the large figure he had been looking for was in his sights, Itai briskly picked up his pace to cut the other off. "Chaffinch! CHAFFINCH!" He barked, hoping to get the other's attention by now, but he knew how deplorable this one was, and Itai had always refused calling the other by that unsightly name. "The Roc of Wings is SPEAKING TO YOU!" He rolled the r's as a look of irritation spread across his face.

"We've visitors, I'd like to hear the greeting I've taught you. You know the one, and if not, allow me to remind you: Hello and good day! Welcome esteemed guests of El Dorado, it is a pleasure to find you staying with us!" The hellion mused brows raised elegantly so, rocking back onto his hind legs to get that spray bottle ready. "Now you, go on. Don't worry about this."

@Angus

#d11755

Ear tipped just a smidge when Lorcan had the nerve to speak out of turn, but he didn't say anything other than the mutterings of disrespect thrown his way as he reported the other down a freshly drawn scroll. He eyed the other with benevolent regality that one of his kind should not have possessed, after all Itai was the outlier here. But he proved himself and earned his way to the top of this system, he had worked HARD. It was only right that he'd be given respect. No, he didn't have a beautiful plumage of feathers, but he had an intelligence that was unparalleled by any (so he thought).

But further disrespect came in the form of a fellow Roc, causing Itai to crane his neck at her in a way that showed off his complete and utter disbelief. As she chirped on about lack of  this and that and how he had no right to do this or that. Itai snatched an empty scroll from his satchel, eyes looking from here and back down to it as he scrawled out this and that. A clear recount that would be added to her file, an infraction (what a pity). No, he wasn't going to call her out in front of everyone, there was no class in that, as much as he wanted to.

It was only after the group had cleared out that he'd call to her, tail swishing around thoughtfully behind him as he sat poised like a cat, a smirk spreading up that maw, familiar and crooked. The one he used when he held something above someone's head. "Dearest Roc of Eyes, I don't expect you to be able to process any of this, it really is a trying time, so I do deeply sympathize with you." It began nice enough. "However, as a rank lead, I'd like to believe that you should know who your larks are, after all, it's your rank to head. I had every right to be there, asking my questions, doing the tribe's business. as I am a lark, after all." That snaggletoothed grin spread. "I'm afraid that even as the leadership role rests for the moment, we are the next highest in command with no council to lead us. We can't afford weak links." He eyed the woman carefully down his long, slender muzzle.

"I've taken it upon myself to write this incident down as a minor infraction, your first and hopefully your last. It'd be a shame to think that you'd have to reconsider your rank, but a slipping mind is a troublesome thing, my friend." Voice smooth, but it would nonetheless grate on her ears with how snobbish he sounded.