Solitary Meal

[RandomWiktor]

The Story So Far:
Strulo, a magpie finding himself bored and alone in the suburbs, finds both problems remedied when a comical, boisterous pair of quaker parrots alight nearby. Despite some "cultural differences," the oddball trio holds lively conversation before they find themselves interrupted by a crow recently liberated from a neglectful owner in the Countryside.
Origional Thread

Last Two Posts:
((Whoo! First post since my hiatus! Excuse any horribleness, please. >.< ))

Before he could continue in his excitement, boosted by the female's sudden enthusiastic urgings, alarms rang harshly in Strulo's brain about what he was catching out of the corner of his eye.
Bursts of approaching movement, broken and unnatural.
Such a thing triggers instant flight instincts in avian brains.

Strulo however, being the not-quite-right member of his species that he was, turned around in cautious surprise instead of immediately flying to a nearby branch and asking questions later. Hopping in place, he pivoted himself to face the other distressed bird as it came closer.

The other bird's motions were clumsy and obvious, screaming 'injured!' to anything within eye-or-earshot. Surely, the thing would call predators within minutes....if they weren't following it already. Maybe that was what had happened to the poor bird, and its attacker was following along behind at that very moment, waiting to finish off the meal. Strulo's instincts were, of course, pointing all of this out to him, but instead of taking this as a reason to get away from the other bird as quickly as possible, he took it as all the more reason not to simply let it flutter sadly to its doom.

In his harsh magpie voice, Strulo interrupted his conversation with the parrots to give a wordless and inquisitive call in the direction of the hapless crow.

[RandomWiktor]

<Quiquo followed the magpie's gaze, his feathers immediately ruffling in alarm. The rapid-fire contraction and constriction of his pupils signaled his worry over the hobbling, sickly crow, and the shrill alarm shriek that followed confirmed that the approaching bird made him uncomfortable. So, unlike the lest instinct-savvy Strulo, the quaker parrot shot upwards, flapping his small green wings frantically until he could feel the rubbery blackness of the power line under his feet. From his perch high above, he continued to issue shrill calls, bobbing up and down on his perch with his stance wide and wings spread, concerned that Royenko hadn't followed him.
Royenko, still on the ground, had assumed her mate's squawking was actually just another attempt to divert her attention from the topic of chicks. Thus, she only stared up at him with her feathers puffed out, a fluffy gray and green pile of anger with a clacking beak pointed skywards at her flapping, shrieking mate.>
"Nice try, Quiquo."
<She said with a snort, rolling her eyes then turning to face Strulo. Strulo, however, seemed to have had his interest captured by something else; he was staring up the road with great intensity, and called out in what she could only assume was some kind of magpie greeting. Following his gaze, she was shocked by the look of a horribly thin, messy, pathetic crow. She stood bolt upright at the sight of this, head thrown back slightly and a crest of feathers raised down her neck. She let out a loud trill in surprise, treading from foot to foot, uncertain of how to react. However, if Strulo didn't find the bird to be a threat, she didn't see why she should flee.>
Poe, meanwhile, was surprised to find that only one of the odd assembly of birds flapped away in terror at the sight of him. He probably didn't realize just how god-awful he looked, but was getting used to the reaction of other birds, animals, and even humans in general. Perhaps if he knew about the encephalitis scare of recent, he'd have better understood why.
Of course, though the birds not fleeing gave him some hope, it could have also been because they had food and didn't plan on sharing it. That would be unfortunate. He was terribly hungry, and this roadkill was the first he'd smelled in miles. He could always try to scrap for it, but he'd never win. Perhaps cringing submission would earn him some pity.
Thus, hanging back a bit, the crow slowed his approach, tucking his beak to his chest and crouching a bit as he walked. Fleshy nub of a featherless tail twitching in a vain attempt to help keep balance as he hobbled foward on overgrown claws, the crow called out to the magpie>
"Hello there, brother! I don't suppose that kill is exclusive, is it?"

[Strulo]

A friendly non-violent face always put Strulo in the best of spirits...even if it was from the scraggliest excuse for a corvid that he had ever seen. But who was he to judge, right? He once looked just as pathetic, and wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for a benevolent creature's aid. Granted, he was no medically-savvy human, but he was going to do what he could.

His instincts may have been dysfunctional, but his sense of nobility was very much intact.

"No, not at all! As long as you're willing to share as well, come on over."

He stood tall, looking pleased with the whole situation--which he saw rather as a big gathering of new avian friends--and hopped a few paces over, making an ample place for the crow.

"I'm Strulo, and these two lovely fellows are new acquaintances of mine," he chirped, offering an opening for both the crow and the parrots to introduce themselves. Ever the gentlemen, Strulo was.

- Meet Strulo -

[Quiquo Royenko Poe]

___Quiquo was mortified to see that his mate was not joining him from his safe perch well above the lurching monstrosity hobbling down the road. Although they bickered plenty, he still anticipated many more years with her, hopefully with chicks and perhaps one day even a true flock in that future. And in the possibly dangerous, almost definitely diseased scavenger advancing towards her, he saw all of that slipping away. Thus, against his better instincts, the tiny parrot fluttered down from the security of the telephone wires. He landed in front of Royenko, feathers standing on end and posture crouched with sharp beak extended. He let out a few warning calls, wings slightly spread, ready to defend his mate.
___... Much to said mate's embarassment. Royenko had already decided based on Strulo's utterly calm demeanor that this bird was not a threat. Once the initial panic of her neophobic species had subsided, she could rationally determine that nothing in his advance spoke of threat. Indeed, were he a predator he would certainly have made his approach a stealthy one, not this slow and lumbering affair. And if his intentions were malicious, something in those scraggly mass of feathers should have aligned in such a way to show fierce intentions - much like Quiquo's present display. Finally, the male spoke, his voice quiet and hopeful, subservient even. Heaving a sigh, the quaker grabbed her mate's long tailfeathers in her beak, giving them a tug that caused him to startle and squawk with indignation.
___"Quiquo love, I think it's allright."

___Poe, meanwhile, felt an unpleasant mix of defensive and guilty as the parrot - presumably a male based on its posturing before the other bird, but he never could much tell these things in other species - apparently felt compelled by his mere appearence to protect the other. It was hardly his fault that he was in such a state though, and how much more snivelling and pitiful could his approach possibly get? He was relieved when the female - indeed it was by the voice - quietly urged her mate to calm down. He meant no harm, but if he was set upon with that strange, powerful, crushing beak, he would certainly defend himself.
___Then the magpie spoke, a more rational creature of course being a fellow corvid. He was pleased to find the animal amenable to his presence; it was a better outcome than he could have hoped for. Pleased with the sparkle of a smile in his eye, he took a few ataxic hops towards Strulo and the roadkill. As he meandered closer, he decided to do the fairness of introducing himself in turn.
___"Ah, thank you very kindly brother, there's not been much food along my travels. M'name is Poe." He paused, wondering if he should say something to the two quakers. Though he didn't feel he'd done anything wrong, he swallowed his pride; better to play nice with them and avoid being driven off. "Sorry if I startled you, I know m'looks aren't what they could be right now." He chuckled as best he could at his dilapidated state.

((Woah. Rusty as HELL, sorry.))

[Strulo]

((Don't apologize, please. I don't notice any rust, and your playing always shames mine, so...shhh.))

Strulo, being that he perpetually ignored--or didn't notice--the frenetic and hostile behavior of his little green friends, didn't bat an eyelid at the screeching and puffed feathers nearby. Instead, he kept his curious attention on his most unfortunate new comrade.

He let him have a moment to get acquainted with the carcass, stepping back and keeping his beak shut for a moment, before he started with the questions.

"...So, if you don't mind me asking...what, uh. What exactly happened to you? If I may be so bold, of course."

Really, the only experience he'd had with misfortune was that birds were either healthy, or dead. Or, in very rare cases like himself, badly and suddenly injured but nursed back to health. How a bird like Poe could get into that sort of shape...the kind of thing that hinted at an extended history of unhealth, judging by the grossly hooked claws...was beyond his imagination.