Post by Loki on Nov 29, 2008 21:46:51 GMT -5
((Ren, Breeze? You're not allowed to reply to this 
I'd like to fix this bad history of mine concerning role-playing with new people, you see.))
The cold crawled across the delicate skin under her feathers like maggots on the naked flesh of a chick, all squirming and shivering. Loki never did enjoy this time of year. She couldn’t even put her irritation on show: all sane birds puffed up when the streams froze over and snow piled in the evergreen boughs. She mumbled a grocer’s list of invectives under her breath and took to wing, a clattering whirr of blue and white among the striated world of damp dark wood and unbroken snow. If the weather meant to make her miserable, she could at least steal its satisfaction in keeping her hungry. The winter might come and turn all food to dust and ice, but she had taken full advantage of summer and spring to secret away supplies.
She struck a small branch with her talons, came to rest with her wings still mantled above her back. The air nipped at exposed toes, so she ruffled and shuffled until she could rest without losing any extremities; then she thrust her narrow beak into the tree’s pockmarked bark, from whence she tugged a dry peanut dropped by a human who walked and lunched in the woods during the first stirring of autumn. Damp had made the wood expand, and it took a fierce yank to free the peanut from its hiding place. Rather than come free entire, it splintered under the force of Loki's beak and scattered across the snow beneath her perch.
The jay gave a cry of frustration and lunged through the air to the snowdrift below, from where she dug out fragments of shell (swiftly tossed aside) and two of the nuts. When she could not find the third, she vented her annoyance with another call which broke the frozen quiet of the creaking forest. Somewhat damp and irate, she returned to her perch to try her luck with another peanut – only to discover most of the stash had been eaten by some other animal. With a cry loud and harsh enough to belong to a much larger corvid, she tore the last morsel from the tree’s embrace and pinned it with one foot, then struck it with her beak to pull lose the edible parts. Even when all that remained was an empty husk, she tore at it. Minutes later, its shredded form contained no more interest for her, and she flung it to earth.
Breathing perhaps a little harder than one peanut warranted, Loki settled down on the branch. Perhaps she would search out one of her other stashes and try again at this food business: for now, she wanted to do nothing but hunch and brood.
I'd like to fix this bad history of mine concerning role-playing with new people, you see.))The cold crawled across the delicate skin under her feathers like maggots on the naked flesh of a chick, all squirming and shivering. Loki never did enjoy this time of year. She couldn’t even put her irritation on show: all sane birds puffed up when the streams froze over and snow piled in the evergreen boughs. She mumbled a grocer’s list of invectives under her breath and took to wing, a clattering whirr of blue and white among the striated world of damp dark wood and unbroken snow. If the weather meant to make her miserable, she could at least steal its satisfaction in keeping her hungry. The winter might come and turn all food to dust and ice, but she had taken full advantage of summer and spring to secret away supplies.
She struck a small branch with her talons, came to rest with her wings still mantled above her back. The air nipped at exposed toes, so she ruffled and shuffled until she could rest without losing any extremities; then she thrust her narrow beak into the tree’s pockmarked bark, from whence she tugged a dry peanut dropped by a human who walked and lunched in the woods during the first stirring of autumn. Damp had made the wood expand, and it took a fierce yank to free the peanut from its hiding place. Rather than come free entire, it splintered under the force of Loki's beak and scattered across the snow beneath her perch.
The jay gave a cry of frustration and lunged through the air to the snowdrift below, from where she dug out fragments of shell (swiftly tossed aside) and two of the nuts. When she could not find the third, she vented her annoyance with another call which broke the frozen quiet of the creaking forest. Somewhat damp and irate, she returned to her perch to try her luck with another peanut – only to discover most of the stash had been eaten by some other animal. With a cry loud and harsh enough to belong to a much larger corvid, she tore the last morsel from the tree’s embrace and pinned it with one foot, then struck it with her beak to pull lose the edible parts. Even when all that remained was an empty husk, she tore at it. Minutes later, its shredded form contained no more interest for her, and she flung it to earth.
Breathing perhaps a little harder than one peanut warranted, Loki settled down on the branch. Perhaps she would search out one of her other stashes and try again at this food business: for now, she wanted to do nothing but hunch and brood.