03-20-2018, 10:32 AM
//no need to match muse
Cry stared out into the snowy fields. Her dark silvery feathers ruffling in the cold, bitter wind. Her right wing was put into a cast, and she was sadly ground-bound until she healed. She turned around, attempting to preen the feathers on the cast wing. She blinked, trying to push her beak under the bandages. She huffed, too tight. She sighed, deciding to ignore the burning itch under the cast. She extended her wing, trying to soothe the burn. She pulled it back to her body, shivering in the cold.
Birds were not made to be on the ground. She knew how to walk, but birds were not known for walking. She stood up, testing her broken and bruised legs. She had cold, brittle bones. It hurt to move. But... she would not sit around and be useless. She was going to help herself even if it killed her. The raven blinked as she rested her feet, taking a few steps forward. She had become stronger over the past few days, regaining her strength in her rest. How grateful she was that someone scooped her up and took her somewhere warm. She would never openly admit that, though. ... Was Jacob his name? She picked it up somewhere.
She has noticed that many of the creatures here thought she was a feral animal. Her words were due to mimicry. If she kept up that facade, perhaps she could stay safer longer. She was in a mammal pack. Birds were not known for being the brightest during the transcendence of feral intelligence. They were often taken in as pets or hunted as food. She could peer down the line as far as she wanted to, at the end of it, she was not safe here.
She stopped walking and retorted to hopping around this mammal camp, peering up at various npc's and different faces. She blinked owlishly, scanning each over, framing and wiring them into her memory. Cry would need to remember these faces if she were to enact a plan to keep her safe. If these were to be her 'family', she needed to be able to get under their skin and stay there. She shuddered. She was resorting to parasitism. What has her life come to?
She bounded up to [the next player], tilting her head. She cawed softly before speaking out. Hello! She chirped. It was fairly unknown knowledge that ravens could mimic langauage, but she was proud to say her species was among the smartest of the aviary world. If she just stuck to mimicry, she would be safe. She had to stay safe. This was a game of survival. Her verus them. Who would break first, she wondered?
"SPEECH"
Cry stared out into the snowy fields. Her dark silvery feathers ruffling in the cold, bitter wind. Her right wing was put into a cast, and she was sadly ground-bound until she healed. She turned around, attempting to preen the feathers on the cast wing. She blinked, trying to push her beak under the bandages. She huffed, too tight. She sighed, deciding to ignore the burning itch under the cast. She extended her wing, trying to soothe the burn. She pulled it back to her body, shivering in the cold.
Birds were not made to be on the ground. She knew how to walk, but birds were not known for walking. She stood up, testing her broken and bruised legs. She had cold, brittle bones. It hurt to move. But... she would not sit around and be useless. She was going to help herself even if it killed her. The raven blinked as she rested her feet, taking a few steps forward. She had become stronger over the past few days, regaining her strength in her rest. How grateful she was that someone scooped her up and took her somewhere warm. She would never openly admit that, though. ... Was Jacob his name? She picked it up somewhere.
She has noticed that many of the creatures here thought she was a feral animal. Her words were due to mimicry. If she kept up that facade, perhaps she could stay safer longer. She was in a mammal pack. Birds were not known for being the brightest during the transcendence of feral intelligence. They were often taken in as pets or hunted as food. She could peer down the line as far as she wanted to, at the end of it, she was not safe here.
She stopped walking and retorted to hopping around this mammal camp, peering up at various npc's and different faces. She blinked owlishly, scanning each over, framing and wiring them into her memory. Cry would need to remember these faces if she were to enact a plan to keep her safe. If these were to be her 'family', she needed to be able to get under their skin and stay there. She shuddered. She was resorting to parasitism. What has her life come to?
She bounded up to [the next player], tilting her head. She cawed softly before speaking out. Hello! She chirped. It was fairly unknown knowledge that ravens could mimic langauage, but she was proud to say her species was among the smartest of the aviary world. If she just stuck to mimicry, she would be safe. She had to stay safe. This was a game of survival. Her verus them. Who would break first, she wondered?
"SPEECH"