Birdhouse in Your Soul Part II
Whilst Imogen staved off the marmo-threat below and internally philosophised about the morality and potential sociopolitical ramifications of their exploit against fire marmoset culture (or lack thereof), Destyn made his way to a peak that rose above the canopy of trees. Alighting upon a high, stony promontory he used this high vantage to review the region he'd just quit. Letting his haul tumble onto the rocky shelf, he picked up a thin-skinned fruit to tide him over while he waited for Imogen to catch up to him. He sniffed at it before taking a bite.
He wrinkled his nose, displeased with the bitterness as he rolled the fruit meat over his tongue. He was about to spit it out, when a sudden aftertaste hit his taste buds and his eyes widened and rolled back in delight.
"Mmm, though!" He said to no one at all, now inadvertently spitting out speckles of the fruit he'd sought to intentionally spew moments earlier. His priorities having shifted, he took another bite instead. The bitterness was cut significantly after the first bite, and he nestled himself down to munch and watch and wait for his new friend to return.
He blinked. She would return, wouldn't she? He hadn't actually seen her use her wings since she'd gone lemur on him. Did they even work? Well, when he called to her she'd responded that she was coming. She seemed a capable fighter. More than capable, in his opinion. And perhaps if she couldn't fly as a lemur, she could just turn back to an albatras. He shrugged, even though this entire conversation was going on in his own head as he enjoyed this novel fruitstuff.
By and by, Imogen the winged lemur-cum-albatross-cum-Ork, crested the treetops and Destyn waved over his head with the hand that wasn't holding the yellow once-ovular fruit, the shape of which had been amended by his bites. He didn't want to call to her aloud, lest he summon the fire marmosets or something worse in her stead, but he waved until she caught sight of him, and then gestured down to the little trove he'd purloined.
"We are a good team!" He proclaimed as she drew up. "Try the yellow one, but don't spit it out right away. It gets good, but it takes, you know, a second." He munched on his own specimen almost demonstrably.
35 Ash, 122
Whilst Imogen staved off the marmo-threat below and internally philosophised about the morality and potential sociopolitical ramifications of their exploit against fire marmoset culture (or lack thereof), Destyn made his way to a peak that rose above the canopy of trees. Alighting upon a high, stony promontory he used this high vantage to review the region he'd just quit. Letting his haul tumble onto the rocky shelf, he picked up a thin-skinned fruit to tide him over while he waited for Imogen to catch up to him. He sniffed at it before taking a bite.
He wrinkled his nose, displeased with the bitterness as he rolled the fruit meat over his tongue. He was about to spit it out, when a sudden aftertaste hit his taste buds and his eyes widened and rolled back in delight.
"Mmm, though!" He said to no one at all, now inadvertently spitting out speckles of the fruit he'd sought to intentionally spew moments earlier. His priorities having shifted, he took another bite instead. The bitterness was cut significantly after the first bite, and he nestled himself down to munch and watch and wait for his new friend to return.
He blinked. She would return, wouldn't she? He hadn't actually seen her use her wings since she'd gone lemur on him. Did they even work? Well, when he called to her she'd responded that she was coming. She seemed a capable fighter. More than capable, in his opinion. And perhaps if she couldn't fly as a lemur, she could just turn back to an albatras. He shrugged, even though this entire conversation was going on in his own head as he enjoyed this novel fruitstuff.
By and by, Imogen the winged lemur-cum-albatross-cum-Ork, crested the treetops and Destyn waved over his head with the hand that wasn't holding the yellow once-ovular fruit, the shape of which had been amended by his bites. He didn't want to call to her aloud, lest he summon the fire marmosets or something worse in her stead, but he waved until she caught sight of him, and then gestured down to the little trove he'd purloined.
"We are a good team!" He proclaimed as she drew up. "Try the yellow one, but don't spit it out right away. It gets good, but it takes, you know, a second." He munched on his own specimen almost demonstrably.
