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[silk_for_calde]

[OPEN ACTION POST]

[There's a fairly large, black bird with a brilliant scarlet beak hopping around the City, occasionally stopping to cast a beady eye on the passers by. He occasionally takes to the air for a moment, but doesn't seem particularly comfortable flying, and soon settles back down.]

[ooc: Silk's a night chough, a crow or raven-like

Comments

[Action]

[thejejunejesuit]

[Birdthing, brightbeaked, hopping, hopping. Hmm interesting. Blackcat down below thinks brightbeaked bird might be good to catch. So he watches, follows, sits, watches, follows. Eye to eye, hello bird!]

[ooc: Apologies for the lack of appropriate icons--he's a black cat today.]

[Action]

[silk_for_calde]

[Silk's bright eye caught the motion, and he stopped his fluttering, perched on a low wall, to peer at the feline. He flared his wings, turned his head to regard the cat from the other eye.]

No eat!

[Action]

[thejejunejesuit]

Mrkgnao!

[Trembling, settling, tensing again, wanting to juuuuuuump jump jump jump. --No eat! Hah! Do want.]

[Action]

[silk_for_calde]

[The chough eyed the cat critically for a moment, apparently satisfied that it was not going to pounce. Still, he remained ready to fly if needed.]

Good thing, [he reassured it.] Eat bad. Bird Silk.

[After all... One would probably have a fairly unpleasant stomach-ache, come midnight.]

[Action]

[thejejunejesuit]

[Silk? Silk Silk Silk. The word, no the name knocked around between twitching ears. Silk Silk Silk. Too feline for his own good, no words today, but still an attempt:]

Mrgk?

[Still alert, still watching, wideeyed, but not so nearly about to jump.]

[Action]

[silk_for_calde]

[Silk cocked his head curiously. He was fairly certain he wasn't usually a bird-- could even dimly envision another self, much taller, robed in black. Perhaps he wasn't alone in this?]

Silk know? [Rhetorical question; cats don't talk. He hopped a little closer, curiosity overcoming caution.]

[Action]

[thejejunejesuit]

[Sniff sniff. Sniff. One paw rising up just an inch. Words, somewhere back in the foggy, dusty corners of formerly human minds--words words, give it another go, even sticks in sand can make sounds like words, and cat's sounds get turned into letters:]

Eeern.

[No good.]

[Action]

[silk_for_calde]

[That was more comprehensible than he'd expected, but, well. Still not much help. He fluttered his wings lightly in thought, a counterpart action to his human fidgeting. His suspicion, though, that the cat was more than a cat, was confirmed.]

Good thing. Silk friend!

[Action]

[thejejunejesuit]

Gurrhr...

[He's settling down now to sit at the base of the wall, eyes half-closed. But even half-closed, he's still watching the bird.]