[team sonic] how peculiar
First words from Hate-bites. I know I’ve been posting more often than usual because it would be nice to keep sonic going more this round, but if anyone finds it troublesome please let me know! (I know that people didn’t care for it a couple years ago.) I’m posting this at 4:13 Greenwich time but scheduling it for several hours in the future so hopefully that helps.
[How peculiar]
The last time Philip was catching a lunchtime nap in a warm mossy clearing just tucked into the forbidden forest, the only sounds he had heard were the rustling of leaves and the sound of Natama’s tiny paws pattering over the rocks next to his head as he dozed. Now, though, Philip blinks, started.
“Was that you?” he asks Natama, but the brown mouse just blinks at him before scurrying into his robe pocket. Philip pushes himself up, glancing around. The sun is still warm on his face, the forest still but not silent. He waits, listening for whatever woke him.
Something rustles in the leaves of the tree branch that drops into the clearing. Philip glances over, but it's just a squirrel.
“Must have been my imagination,” he tells Natama, pulling himself up to his feet. Bare toes digging into the soft moss, he stretches his arms up, rolling his shoulders-
“Mudblood!” a voice shrieks from overhead, and Philip is so startled he loses his footing, tumbling over into a heap.
“What-?” he exclaims, whipping his head around to search the trees, but he can't see anything at all.
“Blood traitor!” the voice scolds, “What do I always tell you about-” The voice breaks off into peals of eerie laughter, and Philip is cramming his bare feet into his shoes without even pausing to put on his socks. Whoever is talking definitely doesn't sound like someone he wants to meet. He's just stuffing his leftover crisps into a pocket-not the one Natama is in, he's learned that lesson already-when there's a sudden fluttering, and yellow crested parrot flaps down onto his shoulder.
“Disgrace to wizard-kind,” the parrot says, tone almost affectionate as it rubs its beak against the line of Philip’s ear. Philip can't help but laugh, reaching up to run a finger along the parrot’s back.
“What a gorgeous bird you are,” he says and grins. “I wonder who's looking for you?” As though on cue, there's a crashing sound from the edge of the clearing, and sound of someone calling.
“Kiki! Kiki!” a boy calls, and the parrot, Kiki apparently, takes off in another flutter of wings.
[How peculiar]
The last time Philip was catching a lunchtime nap in a warm mossy clearing just tucked into the forbidden forest, the only sounds he had heard were the rustling of leaves and the sound of Natama’s tiny paws pattering over the rocks next to his head as he dozed. Now, though, Philip blinks, started.
“Was that you?” he asks Natama, but the brown mouse just blinks at him before scurrying into his robe pocket. Philip pushes himself up, glancing around. The sun is still warm on his face, the forest still but not silent. He waits, listening for whatever woke him.
Something rustles in the leaves of the tree branch that drops into the clearing. Philip glances over, but it's just a squirrel.
“Must have been my imagination,” he tells Natama, pulling himself up to his feet. Bare toes digging into the soft moss, he stretches his arms up, rolling his shoulders-
“Mudblood!” a voice shrieks from overhead, and Philip is so startled he loses his footing, tumbling over into a heap.
“What-?” he exclaims, whipping his head around to search the trees, but he can't see anything at all.
“Blood traitor!” the voice scolds, “What do I always tell you about-” The voice breaks off into peals of eerie laughter, and Philip is cramming his bare feet into his shoes without even pausing to put on his socks. Whoever is talking definitely doesn't sound like someone he wants to meet. He's just stuffing his leftover crisps into a pocket-not the one Natama is in, he's learned that lesson already-when there's a sudden fluttering, and yellow crested parrot flaps down onto his shoulder.
“Disgrace to wizard-kind,” the parrot says, tone almost affectionate as it rubs its beak against the line of Philip’s ear. Philip can't help but laugh, reaching up to run a finger along the parrot’s back.
“What a gorgeous bird you are,” he says and grins. “I wonder who's looking for you?” As though on cue, there's a crashing sound from the edge of the clearing, and sound of someone calling.
“Kiki! Kiki!” a boy calls, and the parrot, Kiki apparently, takes off in another flutter of wings.