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+--- Thread: [RI] Flights of Fancy [open] (/thread-4296.html)
Flights of Fancy [open] - Falchion - May 30, 2018
Once again he had come here though why he didn't know. This place was for couples with chicks to raise and care for and he did not even have a mate and really wasn't particularly interested in finding one. Not that he didn't believe in the romance of love but rather because he wasn't interested in going out of his way to find someone. Perhaps he was being lazy, or maybe even vain, but he would prefer to be the one courted rather than be the one doing the courting. As he gazed at the mountains in the distance feeling the wind in his feathers he noticed something interesting. Shapes moving on the ground that weren't usually there, and now that he thought about it he had already passed by some nests that were normally quite busy at this time but that were instead vacant. Using his keen vision he zoomed in on the shapes below and lo and behold the shapes were wolves! It had been a long time since wolves had been around here, at least in these numbers. Occasionally there might be one or two around perhaps a few more but this..this looked almost like a pack and who knew perhaps it was. That would explain the vacant nests, although there were always other possibilities. Perhaps he would endeavor to find out for certain. Of course that meant he would have to find somewhere to land right? Hm. He wasn't too sure.
It was fairly normal for his fellow avians to talk on the wing but he wasn't sure about how to go about talking to wolves. He wasn't even sure if he perched in a tree if they would be able to hear him all the way down there, on the ground, where they just..walked every where. It must be awful tiring..walking. Flying, especially soaring, was much better, much easier. Walking he was not a fan of. Perhaps since wolves could not fly, at least as far as he was aware, and he could he should liven things up for them? Yes. He could do that. He should do that. And so he would. Rather than perching in a tree somewhere and trying to call down to maybe not even be heard he would simply fly low, though not low enough for even a mountain lion to jump and grab him, and call out in a piercing shriek. "Hello wolves! Are you a pack?".
He would then circle the area waiting for a reply from any of the wolves he had seen before his descent, assuming of course that could understand him, but of course he hadn't considered whether birds and wolves even spoke the same language before he had called out..guess he would find out now.
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Vance - June 30, 2018
Ears flatten against the skull; always too big for his head, and he will never grow into them. Kitkun turns his eyes skyward, follows the bird with his gaze for a moment. The wind of this frigid place sweeps up most of the sound, but he would sweat it sounded like words...
The wolf curls his tongue at the sides, and whistles a reply. It's a hawk sort of sound, the kind that let him communicate with other Souls without words, and drew the confusion of predators overhead, while hardly interesting other canines. Kitkun is particularly adept at this art; they called him Mockingbird, after all.
Most wolves don't realize he's an adult until acquainted, so he doubts the bird will find threat from what looks like a pup. "Come, rest your wings," he offers. He understands that one not bound to land could prove a powerful ally, but to his own surprise, he's genuinely interested in an inter-species conversation. Childlike curiosity, to match his appearance. "What was it you said?"
The wolf curls his tongue at the sides, and whistles a reply. It's a hawk sort of sound, the kind that let him communicate with other Souls without words, and drew the confusion of predators overhead, while hardly interesting other canines. Kitkun is particularly adept at this art; they called him Mockingbird, after all.
Most wolves don't realize he's an adult until acquainted, so he doubts the bird will find threat from what looks like a pup. "Come, rest your wings," he offers. He understands that one not bound to land could prove a powerful ally, but to his own surprise, he's genuinely interested in an inter-species conversation. Childlike curiosity, to match his appearance. "What was it you said?"
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Falchion - July 07, 2018
He startled at first upon hearing another bird call, he had thought he was the only avian here at present but perhaps he was..maybe possibly..mistaken? Could that have really just happened to him? He supposed it could though how he could be mistaken was rather beyond him. His startled response quickly turned to confusion though as he scanned the skies and upper parts of the trees and failed to spot any other bird. He was sure he had heard one though..so was he blind or was he just hearing things? He gave an extra hard flap of his wings. Neither. It couldn't be either of those, he wouldn't accept either of those as possible. So where? How? What did that leave him? What could that leave him? There was a voice just then. It was speaking. It was talking..from..oh! There was a form there! One of the wolves was there! And it was talking! It could talk! At least he was pretty sure it was what was talking. But..wait..if it was what was talking and it was the only thing he saw that could talk then had it been what called like a bird? Curious. Very curious. He had never known of anything being able to call like a bird that wasn't a bird. Perhaps this wolf was really a bird, a bird in disguise, if it had done the calling. Well that certainly needed to be investigated.
Shifting his wings he angled himself so that he could spiral down closer. Not quite within jumping reach of any land bound creature that might be inclined to try and turn him into a meal by leaping up but it would be close enough that he and this..bird wolf should be able to converse with each other without too much difficulty. Once had had alighted himself on an adequate perch that would keep him out of reach of hungry mouths he turned his attention to the bird-wolf who was yes talking. It was talking right? Its mouth was moving and words did seem to be resulting from that so..that was the same as talking yeah? He would assume so. So interesting.
"Thank you!". He answered the invitation of resting his wings. "You are most kind". He continued dipping his head politely and also in greeting. "And I said 'Hello wolves, are you a pack?' would you happen to know if you are a pack or not? You seem to be a bird that has gotten trapped in a wolfs body, most unfortunate for you, and you have my deepest sympathies. It must make it awfully difficult for you being around so many wolves and being stuck on the ground. Or can you still fly perhaps?". He didn't think the other could fly, wolves weren't made for flying and he at least had never seen or heard of flying wolves but then he had never heard of wolves being part bird or birds being trapped in wolves bodies and yet it seemed it had stumbled across just that right here so who knew..maybe somewhere out there there wee wolves that could fly. Which actually that was a discomforting thought now that he was thinking about it.
So many teeth flying about snapping here and there, what would one be able to do to avoid being snapped down on. He hoped he would never have to find that out.
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Vance - July 11, 2018
He nods deeply in response to the hawk's thanks. Manners are universal, it would appear. "Would you happen to know if you are a pack or not?"
Such an odd question (how would he live here without knowing something as simple as that?) but one he answers regardless. "Indeed we are. Saboro, it is called. Long we lived in the rainforest, beneath a volcano, but too many disasters have brought us here." He isn't certain how deep the cultural dissonance runs. Do hawks have words for these things? Are they the same words? "Many of our members are marked with a red tattoo around the eyes," the pup motions with a paw, just where his marking runs-- he has considered this often-- "if you see any wayward, please let me know. We'd like desperately to bring them home." What happens once they've arrived is another subject entirely. He's looked longingly at the rank of Redtail before.
"You seem to be a bird that has gotten trapped in a wolfs body, most unfortunate for you, and you have my deepest sympathies. It must make it awfully difficult for you being around so many wolves and being stuck on the ground. Or can you still fly perhaps?" Kitkun smiles, despite himself. It's such a silly concept-- but, so is conversing with a bird.
"My given name means night bird in my ancestral tongue, so perhaps I was a bird, once, before my birth." The Tribe's belief in reincarnation was an integral part of their culture, but he has yet to hear of it elsewhere. They called him Mockingbird as well, and the sounds of hawks are not the only he can imitate. "What are you called?"
Such an odd question (how would he live here without knowing something as simple as that?) but one he answers regardless. "Indeed we are. Saboro, it is called. Long we lived in the rainforest, beneath a volcano, but too many disasters have brought us here." He isn't certain how deep the cultural dissonance runs. Do hawks have words for these things? Are they the same words? "Many of our members are marked with a red tattoo around the eyes," the pup motions with a paw, just where his marking runs-- he has considered this often-- "if you see any wayward, please let me know. We'd like desperately to bring them home." What happens once they've arrived is another subject entirely. He's looked longingly at the rank of Redtail before.
"You seem to be a bird that has gotten trapped in a wolfs body, most unfortunate for you, and you have my deepest sympathies. It must make it awfully difficult for you being around so many wolves and being stuck on the ground. Or can you still fly perhaps?" Kitkun smiles, despite himself. It's such a silly concept-- but, so is conversing with a bird.
"My given name means night bird in my ancestral tongue, so perhaps I was a bird, once, before my birth." The Tribe's belief in reincarnation was an integral part of their culture, but he has yet to hear of it elsewhere. They called him Mockingbird as well, and the sounds of hawks are not the only he can imitate. "What are you called?"
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Falchion - July 13, 2018
The bird-wolf nods back and then lo and behold the wolves are a pack. That is interesting..highly interesting. According to the little wolf they are a pack with a name, Saboro. That really makes it interesting, for this to be a pack but not just a pack but a pack with an actual name..or was Saboro an official name? Hm..he'd have to try and find out if it was the pack's official name or not. That would mean..oh that would be a headache. He'd have to find another bird who knew how to speak wolf and then he'd have to convince them to talk to him and ugh..it was all so tedious. It was the only way he could think of though to do it though as official names had to be determined by more than one individual and they needed to be well..official.
He continues to listen about a..a rainforest? Did the ground-dweller mean a a forest where it rained alot or was he actually talking about the type of rainforest that was in myths and stories? After all forests where it rained alot he had seen but rainforests he had only heard about in stories and rumors. Could such things actually exist? Curious. He might not have considered it before but that was before meeting this wolf-bird and talking to them. Perhaps that meant these rainforests were actually real. Perhaps he would go looking for one later, so he could see for himself, volcanos though, that was something he knew very well was real. Those things were complicated, dangerous, the wolves were lucky. Very lucky. They wouldn't have survived if the volcano had erupted, which as far as he thought, it hadn't since he'd never known of anything to survive a volcanic eruption while being in close proximity to one.
The request to alert them of any he spots with..red tatoos? away from here is noted but it seems like such an odd thing to wish to bring those who clearly could not navigate here rather than leaving them to fend for themselves. In the avian world if you couldn't keep up with the flock well..those were the ones he usually ate and of course the same went for other grouping things. It was such a curious thing he had to know more. "Is it common for wolves to wish to help the weak? It seems rather like that would make things rather difficult for the strong constantly having to take care of them and protect them from anything that might be hungry. It seems like it would be better to allow the weak to appease the hunger of enemies instead of risking the welfare of the healthy and able". He tilted his head slightly in the way birds do looking at the bird-wolf curiously.
"But if you are sure your pack wishes such weak things found I can certainly watch for any with red eye marks". He answered giving his ascent that he would indeed be watching for any wayward..Saboro wolves eh supposed he would have to call them unless or until he found out differently. "Well met Night Bird..". He said dipping his head in acknowledgement of what he assumed was the little wolf's name before providing the irony of his own. "I am called Falchion. Now about this..rainforest..what sort is it?". He asked wondering if it would turn out to be just a regular forest with large amounts of rain or if it would turn out to be the rainforest of myth and legend with trees taller than a pine and wider than an oak with hollows so large a bird might never have to set foot on the ground to get a drink.
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Vance - July 24, 2018
The grin remains. The hawk's description of natural selection is a very Saboran line of thought. Eyes falling elsewhere, he considers admitting his bluff: the intention to bring escapees to retribution, the cruelty of their culture, how impressed he is that someone with so small a brain understands what even his own Tribe couldn't quite grasp. Perhaps he should have been a bird.
Falchion introduces himself, and agrees with the request nonetheless, before expressing an unusual interest in the old territory. With a quirked brow, Kitkun elaborates. There are no secrets left in the land itself, and he knows that place better than the beat of his own blood. "Vast," is the first term that comes to mind, "an expansive, thick woodland, with trees as tall as the mountains, ground so soaked you could hardly tread it without sinking-- aside from places that had been packed down under-paw for generations."
He pauses, twists an ear, and flicks it back to front. He could go months without seeing the sun, not just beneath the ground, but the canopy. "The brush was so thick even a pack as territorial as ours couldn't keep track of everything living within their borders." Kitkun is the remnant of those hidden squatters after all, and as nostalgic as the concept makes him, he's glad for the taiga.
Falchion introduces himself, and agrees with the request nonetheless, before expressing an unusual interest in the old territory. With a quirked brow, Kitkun elaborates. There are no secrets left in the land itself, and he knows that place better than the beat of his own blood. "Vast," is the first term that comes to mind, "an expansive, thick woodland, with trees as tall as the mountains, ground so soaked you could hardly tread it without sinking-- aside from places that had been packed down under-paw for generations."
He pauses, twists an ear, and flicks it back to front. He could go months without seeing the sun, not just beneath the ground, but the canopy. "The brush was so thick even a pack as territorial as ours couldn't keep track of everything living within their borders." Kitkun is the remnant of those hidden squatters after all, and as nostalgic as the concept makes him, he's glad for the taiga.
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Falchion - August 05, 2018
He listens with rapt attention as the bird-wolf provides him with a description that sounds much like the descriptions in the myths and legends, or at least what he had always known and considered to be myth and legend, and yet here this bird-wolf he'd stumbled upon was saying it was real. It was an actual eye witness account as far as he could tell instead of something that had been told by so many different individuals there was no telling how things might have changed and what they originally were. As for their being unable to keep track of every thing living in their territory well..even a bird-wolf wasn't fully a bird he supposed and didn't have the advantage of height with flight to be able to properly survey an area. Then again though so many trees and so much brush could make it difficult to spot things as even one with as keen sight as his couldn't see through solid objects. It must be terrible to be a wolf, after all a wolf surely couldn't have as good a sight as his, which meant they must have been nearly blind in such a place. With their blindness and a volcano it was no wonder their pack had left that place.
"Your pack must be quite skilled to manage living in place without being able to see anything, usually blind individuals are counted among the weak but your pack has managed to be strong despite that". He observed, though perhaps somewhat incorrectly, though somewhat admiringly and certainly respectfully. Then he moved on with other observations. "You description is quite unique,as it sounds rather like what is around here considered to be nothing more than rumor, myth and legend". He might have added that they were fortunate to have lived in such a place and might have further asked why had they left but those questions had already been answered really so he would ask something different instead. "How did your pack happen to find that place, that rainforest, and how did you come to find this place?". Because it was a curiosity that this pack had found a place of legend and lived there and now had found and moved into a place that had for so long been devoid of wolves and several other predators that battles to nest and raise young here could be, or had been he supposed, rather fierce and had often resulted in death for at least one of the combatants.
For wolves to suddenly stumble upon what had been such a prime nesting ground, valuable enough that it was worth killing or being killed for, was something he was rather interested in finding out.
RE: Flights of Fancy [open] - Vance - October 17, 2018
How little do they know. The respect Falchion expresses for their old livings leaves him distinctly prideful for concealed his own substandard sense for so long. "Perhaps, though intruders in such a place were more blind than we."
The line of discussion banks, and Kitkun tilts his head in interest, slowly, still almost avian. He supposes that the description of a rainforest for those that had never seen one must sound quite dramatized, though he wonders how someone on the wing could have missed it. Maybe they don't travel very far. He's presented with historical questions next, and does his best to answer, benign as they are. "Saborans inhabited that place for so many generations, the story of its discovery has been lost to time. As far as recent memory extends, it has always been there, and always been ours. Although, since the exodus, I doubt anyone else has moved in. It's far from ideal terrain-- for wolves, that is. Cats lived among us quite nicely, there." They in the trees, dogs to the ground, and rarely the two would meet. "I'm not familiar with how this land was chosen for us, only that we followed the Throne-- our leaders," Kitkun addends, not certain a hawk would be able to discern what he meant by the term. "It seemed uninhabited when we arrived, although that could be explained by a preceding reputation. Saboro is quite infamous for our combat prowess." That, at least, is the truth.
The line of discussion banks, and Kitkun tilts his head in interest, slowly, still almost avian. He supposes that the description of a rainforest for those that had never seen one must sound quite dramatized, though he wonders how someone on the wing could have missed it. Maybe they don't travel very far. He's presented with historical questions next, and does his best to answer, benign as they are. "Saborans inhabited that place for so many generations, the story of its discovery has been lost to time. As far as recent memory extends, it has always been there, and always been ours. Although, since the exodus, I doubt anyone else has moved in. It's far from ideal terrain-- for wolves, that is. Cats lived among us quite nicely, there." They in the trees, dogs to the ground, and rarely the two would meet. "I'm not familiar with how this land was chosen for us, only that we followed the Throne-- our leaders," Kitkun addends, not certain a hawk would be able to discern what he meant by the term. "It seemed uninhabited when we arrived, although that could be explained by a preceding reputation. Saboro is quite infamous for our combat prowess." That, at least, is the truth.