Cubefall?
It's some time later, after his talk with Tyler, that the strange magic window that's found everyone else finds Zak.
< Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations ( Read more... )
< Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations ( Read more... )
It's also a bit embarrassing to have been caught staring, and he's not sure why. But he can't help it. All of the stories and legends that he's heard from Alistair and Leliana, and all of the history of the order that Duncan had told him on the way to Ostagar, and now he finally gets to see what the famed Warden mounts of old might have looked like.
It's no wonder the darkspawn never stood a chance against them, between their skills in combat, the taint, and enormous cat-birds. This one looks as if could probably pick him up with its front feet, if it wanted to. He'd never heard many of the stories as an Apprentice in the Circle, hadn't really known anything about the Wardens until he had met Duncan, been recruited, and worn down the long miles to Ostagar with a complete history of the Wardens. He knows that he's in for a hard life of difficult and thankless service, unrewarded, but there is still something romantic about the entire idea. It may not be the life that he would have chosen if left to his own devices, but he's bound to it now, and is not unhappy or dissatisfied.
"Um... hello," he says after a moment, offering a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare." Talaerion knows better than to make any assumptions about intelligence or sentience here.
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First option, he could to the Look again. He likes doing the Look. It gets him pettings.
Second option, he could just introduce himself straight out. The mage is obviously suffering from what Zak secretly considers 'cuteness overload' already. Perhaps the look will not be necessary?
Even if he is not, specifically cute. He's still... very furry. And fluffy.
It seems to work in some odd, undefinable way.
Hm... Decisions, decisions... The black griffin goes for option 2.
"Greetings, Talaerion." The griffin grins, tail waving slightly. It's probably rather shocking to have the drow's voice emerging from that beak.
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Talaerion actually starts backward. He recognizes that voice, but the last time he heard it, it had been coming out of six feet of elf, NOT a beak. It's related to Cubefall, it has to be, and it's emphasizing one of his main problems with the holiday: he can't recognize anyone.
He stares for a moment, blue eyes wide with shock, before hesitantly asking, "Zaknafein? Is this for Cubefall, or did something... happen?"
The other elf had, after all, seemed unable to shake his fear that the mage was going to turn him into something small and squishy, never mind that Talaerion can't actually do that.
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The griffin grins. Clearly he likes being petted, if the grin and the tail-waving are any indication...
"And the flying is awesome."
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This seems a lot more interesting to him then the fact that Zak can still talk. He also reaches out and begins to carefully pet the griffin's head; the caution is because he wants to make sure that Zak isn't going to instinctively try to bite his hand off because of mage cooties, or something of that nature.
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"Pettings feel nice." he manages to mumble between 'rrr..''s
"...and yes, I can fly. I can lift someone on my back too, as I found out a few hours ago."
"..rrrr. Flying is most enjoyable."
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"You can?" He pauses. "Um... You don't think that I could, maybe, you know..."
He's hesitant to ask, first because it might seem like an imposition, and second, because he knows that Zak was decidedly uncomfortable about the fact that Talaerion is a mage, the last time they shared each other's company.
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The ear-tufts twitch and perk up, the tail waves amiably. "As long as you're not going to try to harm me with your magic, that sounds fine to me. At least you're not wearing armored robes, and you're lighter than the other guy who wanted a ride... When do you want to ride?"
There is something very empowering about this form.. It has more natural, seemingly inherent confidence than he expects. Its instincts seem to tell him that he is a great and mighty predator, the top of the food chain... except for dragons, that is.
As a result, the drow is much less paranoid in this shape. Besides, he has plenty of means of self-defense. He can always fly away, if Talaerion so much as waves his staff threateningly. If the mage tries to hurt him mid-air, he could always do a barrel roll, or drop him in the lake.
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He pauses in his petting for a moment, and then continues after he gathers his thoughts back together. "As for when... Well, whenever is convenient for you, I suppose?"
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"..rrr... Right now is fine. As is any time between today and tomorrow. The strange magic window found me late so I'm only in this shape for 2 days." The griffin stands up and stretches to get rid of any kinks in his back or his tail. Then he shakes himself, and in the process, the black feathers all fluff out until he looks.. rounder.
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"Well, if you were just out, I don't want to tire you. That would hardly be fair. But if you're feeling up to it..."
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And Zak looks very.. very.. fluffy. He is very fluffy.
And he knows it too. He's not sure whether it's a blessing or a curse. A blessing because he gets more pettings this way, and a curse, because.. well. Giant predators capable of lifting an adult male are not supposed to be fluffy.
Eh, whatever. The griffin-self does not seem to think fluffy is bad, so Zak will go with the flow, so as to speak.
"We can go out now, if you'd like." The griffin agrees, and pads over to the Back Door that leads out into the area with the Lake. "You'll have to open it, I don't have hands anymore."
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"Oh! Of course, that would make sense." He reaches out and opens the door, waiting so that Zak can leave first. After all, hands will be necessary to close the door, too.
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After a few moments, Zak stops the sudden cat-with-ball-of-string rush, and then moves to stretch himself out in what he's discovered to be the easiest way for an elf with a skirt to get on his back.
"Feel free to get on my back. Mind where you place your legs though, you need to get a good grip on me and you don't want them to impede the wings, as I'm going to be doing a lot of flapping."
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The Warden closes the door and then hurries over to where the griffin is crouched. He carefully swings his leg over the muscular back, seating himself in front of the large wings and carefully wrapping his around Zak's neck.
"Like this?" he asks. There's really not much to hold on to, with a griffin. Everything up this end is slick feathers and Talaerion doesn't want to inadvertently pull them out.
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Talaerion is, thankfully, lighter than Zak's previous rider.**
The griffin makes sure that his rider's grip around his neck and his legs grip around his belly are strong enough to keep him on, and then he does his best to make sure the take-off is as calm and easy on his rider as possible. There is a lot of flapping, but once he gets to the proper altitude to catch a thermal, Zak shifts to soaring instead. It does, after all, make for a much smoother ride. And it's a rush. Very much like a roller-coaster, even if Zak's got no idea what a roller coaster is.
"You alright, back there?" Zaknafein asks. The thermals are strong enough to keep them up here for a while. "Where do you want to fly to?"
*This is Zaknafein's fondly held opinion since the first time he went to Sorcere for the months required by the Academy and promptly got ticked off by the condescending mage who was his teacher.
It's not a wise thing to mock a mage, and Zak was intelligent enough to keep his mouth shut long enough to make it out of there in one piece and not four-legged or tiny.
Zak never said he had outgrown petty revenge.
**Who was a Blood Elf. From WoW.
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