Pow Wow

Title: Pow Wow
Time Period: May 18, 135 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

  • Darklight (raven, marten)
  • Greets-the-Sun (lapwing)
  • Masque (badger, osprey)
  • Sage (barn owl)
  • Stands-Fast (highland bull)

Summary: The familiars pile up to discuss the various dangers in Dornie, from too much, to nothing at all.

Picture this, as if it were the opening shot of a movie.

Dusk. Sun setting, the weather fine, tree's in full leaf, ripe and green with the heady scent of grass. Highland cattle wander the large paddock, great hairy beats, shaggy brown which has darkened with the waning light. Great horns swinging out from either side of theirs heads and chewing their cud in the distance as a farm hand passes by after getting them all back to the enclosure for the night. Focus in on one, the outskirts of the herd that looks no different from the others, except for the plethora of birds in varying kinds perched on different places on the poor beast.

A particularly yellow and blackish brown bird, a fancy crown jutting off it's head is perched on the rump of the beast, occasionally dipping his head, seeking out with little bird eyes the mites and ticks that might take up residence in a hairy cow.

Keep your tail still. I almost have it.

Stands-Fast doesn't seem to mind that he is bedecked with an aviary. The bull's tail seems to have a mind of its own, though, twitching and ticking almost teasingly while there is an attempt to groom him. Aw, don't worry about it. Even a flea's gotta eat, right? And besides, the flea would be most disturbed to find if Stands-Fast suddenly shifted to something far less comfortable to reside in.

Less colorful in black plumage is a raven, and he is not at all interested in whatever is is going on at the tail end of things; he perches on the bull's neck and nibbles with its beak a strip of something gold and shiny — a bit of ribbon, it turns out — that it holds in a black, taloned claw.

Not on me, Darklight's voice intones as he cocks his head and blinks a beady eye backwards.

Thankfully, Highland cattle happen to have a lot of shelf space. Especially if they are lovely specimens such as Stands-Fast, with the twin peaks of horn jutting off to the sides of his skull. Which happen to fit underneath of talons very nice. Sage sits there near the base of one horn, feathers fluffed to catch the spring air. Her tail is pointed to the rest of him, but being an owl, she doesn't need to actually face any particular direction.

Her blackened plumage, tinted with ruddy browns in places, is not as quick to catch the shine as the raven's, but it still sticks her as a less colorful creature- not like the yellow bits of Greets-the-Sun, and not the ginger of Stands-Fast.

Should I come back and help you? Sage teases down the length of the bull's back.

Into this scene stumbles a badger. He's hot on the trail of a little red squirrel, mostly seeming to be amusing himself with harassing the creature. But, when the group of familiars gets his attention with their chatting and their… hawking, the squirrel makes its escape. But that's okay, because Masque may have already forgotten it.

He trundles over, but along the way, shifts into a black and white osprey, taking to the skies to circle around and land on Stands-Fast himself. He's at least vaguely familiar with them, but is a new presence for them. Out in the open like this.

Are we having a party? he asks grumpily. Perhaps even sounding… a touch depressed.

I do not need help Snippily spoken to Sage as she teases, Greets The Sun having little less patience and humor these days. Another round of fishing for the flea, he chirps and gives up. There will be food for him back at Ross Manor when he comes back from his excursion. Someone always makes sure there's food for him since Dina isn't in a position to do so.

The arrival of Masque makes for re-ruffling of wings yet again and making himself a bit more properly presentable. He is ever his mages companion. "Perhaps. Maybe" The old man that is a bird speaks. Austere welsh. And the last flea I met, wasn't just a flea. Ate the bear near to death" Slight exaggeration for Stands Fasts benefits, as he hops off the rump and further in, starting to preen and peck at his own feathers, get them in proper place. //I wanted to see, if others had seen, or heard of someone, of a nothing that was here.

Stands-Fast refrains at least from tossing his head, lest he disturb the owl unbalancing one side of his broad horns. Masque's appearance earns the badger a through-the-fur stare, placid and downright zen compared to the other. Once the badger-osprey lands, the bull replies simply in answer to Greets-the-Sun.

I'm feeling a lot of negative energy around, if that helps.

Probably doesn't.

Perhaps not liking to be in such an avian (not to mention, scavenger) of a form with an unfamiliar mammal about, the raven flurries past Stands-Fast's horned head with a ruffle of feathers to drop to the ground; as the creature falls, talons become claws, feather becomes fur, and finally a little marten stands alert and blinking black eyes not-so-unlike the bird's, only bigger, at the badger.

Who are you, brother? he asks, cocking his head before picking up the bit of dropped ribbon in his teeth. Darklight watches the osprey curiously, before glancing back up at Greets-the-Sun. I know of many *Some* things but I do not know of a nothing that is or was.

Party? Nooo… Sage clicks her tongue inside of her beak, the feathers on her cheeks rising, and her eyes lidding into slits. Her head swivels around to get a better look at the osprey that lands as the badger fades, and the black barn owl peers studiously to it, and then across to the lapwing.

A nothing that is a something? Scoff. Sage lifts her feet and sidles down the base of the bull's horn to stand on the top of this head. She turns to peer down his back, and past the hair he can see the rim of her tail. Is that like a something that means nothing, or a something that could be anything but is nothing in particular?

Masque eyes the marten, perhaps with more interest than the others, but perhaps because Darklight is the one paying attention to him. Excellent, well, I am a fishmonger, he replies in a flat tone, altering a familiar quote just a little.

He turns his head to peer back at Greets-the-Sun, eyes narrowing a bit. Riddles then, instead of a party. He climbs up onto Stands-Fast's head, perhaps for the higher vantage point. A nothing that is something can't truly be nothing, yeah? What sort of nothing? Silence? Absence? Emptiness?

A nothing. Which, so far, has been the problem. Only other familiars can talk to familiars. That and the Bear. Someone, who makes… nothing. It comes out puzzled and he ceases his preening to study the osprey. It attack Mine, and she sleeps. A sleep she is not, cannot awaken from. I am trying to find the nothing. What he'll do, he doesn't know. Not safe to be around the Nothing. It makes things… It makes things fuzzy. Makes things dark. Down to Darklight the yellowed lapwing looks and it's prize in posession.

While the birds and marten discuss, Stands-Fast listens. Intently or not, the bull closes his eyes to mull. It's a good long minute, perhaps after conversation has passed the point of the appropriateness of his interjection, before he chimes in. Dude… That's deep. The ever-helpful observation follows with, I thought there was a bear around here already. No?

I would you were so honest a man. Darklight's no Shakespeare slouch, having heard all of the major plays read aloud a few times over. Any pedantic thespian accent's effect is ruined as he suddenly pounces — and misses — on a white gypsy moth fluttering by.

I don't know of any darkness or stillness or anything of the like. But now, my honorable lords — and lady — I will most humbly take my leave of you… The marten's eyes blink over at Masque. That's your line, brother, but I'm stealing it. My rest is over and I should get back to my task.

The metamorphosis he'd just made is reversed, and glossy feathers take once more to the sky, leaving behind the others.

Sage shifts on top of the bull's head to let the other raptor share the space. It's big enough up there, at least. She rattles her wings and considers the clouds while Greets-the-Sun gets into specifics. Someone who makes a nothing, that makes things fuzzy and dark. It put her to a not-sleep? Hmm. The owl clicks a farewell when the marten bids his own, and points her dished face back to the other birds.

Like when a limb falls asleep? …Numb. Senseless? A quick search comes up with those descriptors, though Sage is not certain of the accuracy.

Masque chuckles, just briefly, and bobs his birdy head at the marten. I'll forgive you this time. Just this once, is the implication. But as Darklight takes to feathers and the air, Masque turns back to the others, sliding back into the form he's more comfortable.

And Stands-Fast doesn't seem like the type to mind a badger sprawling over his skull and neck.

I haven't encountered such a talent, he says to Greets, but if I do, I'll try to pass word along. Too many things going wrong lately. And he slumps there, looking off toward the woods.

Be Safe Brother. Greets reels off to the Martin as he transforms and takes off. His own desire to revert back to mouse is great but he refrains. He touched her, I tried to defend her and the world went grey, I could do nothing and then darkness. Like there was nothing. He can better explain it, as much as he can explain. I woke, she did not.

You are right, too much wrong here lately. Her man rattles in the house, tree's are attacking people, trolls. He's heard the tales on his travels through town on Jorn's shoulder and on his own. Kelpies.

Stands-Fast rumbles a sincere goodbye to Darklight though he doesn't open his eyes until the grumbling upon his back causes a crack of an opening to his gaze. So… it's like when you're just minding your own business, then a Stormbringer comes and tries to munch on a bunch of little dudes. Just coming out of nowhere, but somewhere. The bull starts to bob his head, stopping jerkily when he remembers there's occupants. Not that they'd fall - they have wings and clingy claws. Left my human grumpy for days, man. Took a while for him to get over it. Maybe yours will be better too.

What was he like? Perhaps you have been going at this wrongly. Perhaps you need to find the man- not his magic? Sage hops onto Stands' horn again to hold on, wings held halfway up for balance. She doesn't mind the shaking- it is his head.

It has been months for his woman, Stands-Fast. I don't think it is much the same. Except that it came from nowhere, hm?

They're taking people, Masque tells Greets, and the rest by proxy. They're taking people from Dornie. I think now is a good time to look after the ones you care for.

And on that thought, the mystery badger climbs down Stands-Fast to hit the ground again. Which I'm being neglectful on. Keep a good watch, he says to the group before he, too, charges off for his self-appointed responsibility.

It's been months. The little - Usually - loses just a little bit of hope, each day she doesn't stir. Each day that he see's the granddaughter run her grandmother's limbs through motions and Bridget sit watch. I do not know anymore. Finding him will be… impossible. We could not see his face, I could not. Nothing is the best that I can call it, recall it. It is like a fog… that night. But perhaps Sage has the right of it. Not all magic us used all the time. Likely not this magic is used all the time. He watches Masque offer his farewell and waddle off, off to his mage, whomever that may be. Greets The Sun looks in the direction where the Ross Manor lays.

I should be going to. He feels like he is neglecting Dina too. Be well, and safe Sage. Stands Fast There's a push of bird feet and a jump up with wings flapping to launch himself up in to the air, away and oof. Before dark fully settles.

It all takes a moment for the situation to sink in for Stands-Fast. But when it does. Seriously?! This time the bull really does jerk his head up, eyes behind the fur rounding. But just as soon as the moment passes, the blacksmith's familiar lowers his head. It's all a bit of nothing, and a bit of something, isn't it? remarks the kyloe, part to himself, and part to the others left, sentient or not. Either way, it leaves the bull with a lot to chew on.

I will keep a watch for anyone that may have the means to help her, now that I know what's happened, precisely. Sage says this to Greets before he chooses to depart as well. Her tone seems to be suspicious of something that goes unsaid. As for people being taken- she is confident that Leo will be fine when she is not there to watch him, however, and seems to take Masque's warning in stride.

Good-night, friends. The owl chitters and settles herself on the bull's skull again, feet buried in the gingery hair. She leans down to nip at one of his ears. You keep an eye out for funny business too. You are good at watching. See you, dear… Sage lifts her dark wings up and flaps into the air; the only sign that she flies off being the soft buffet of air to the bull's head, from soundless wings.