Pitter Patter

[Lurchag]

The moon was only a dim glow behind the wispy clouds, and its light was insufficient for any diurnal creatures. The low clouds danced and twirled in the swift breeze, which died down as it hit the stone walls of the Others' creations, in turn creating a barrier against any haywire gusts. It would've been perfect flying weather, had it not been for the growing drizzle. Though, that wasn't too bad, considering the precipitation could've been much harder. But you had to consider the fact that it was growing harder, and harder, and harder...

A small owl came into view, dipping through one of the various windows of the buildings before coming out in a sort of alley between two dominating partially ruined stone walls. His wings fluttered for a moment as he swerved back into level flight, but afterward, it was just gliding. His ruddy feathers glistened in the dim light was the water accumulated on them, but it didn't seem to bother his flight too much, as he would just do a barrel roll or two to shake it off. This little owl seemed to be an expert at flying through the otherwise confusing maze of deserted, ruined buildings. Well, one must always have a talent.

Heads would've been turned as he ducked around the corner of a building, only to come shooting up over the roofless walls again. Strange indeed. And why was he wasting precious energy and taking these risks? For fun. Yes, when one lived the life of a loner, in a basically deserted place, fun was the only pleasure you had. It was the ultimate pleasure, usually, anyway, so it really wasn't any different than a life in a forest full of strange owls. He almost let out a shiver at the thought. He hadn't lived with a group of owls in so long; now he couldn't imagine what it would be like. And having a family... Well, that was only a fuzzy memory, one that he tried to dispel at any cost. It wasn't right to let the memory of loved ones fade, but when they brought back such heart-tearing emotions, it would be best to. Or would it?

Lurchag pulled out of his ascent as this thought came to mind. Was it right to forget the two owls back at the Ga'Hoole tree? "Don't say that." He thought, intent on forgetting that place even existed. But it did exist. He couldn't fly away from that fact. No matter how hard he tried to forget, no matter how many places he flew to to get away from it, no matter how many times he closed his eyes to be lost in the black of his eyelids instead of memories, they would be there. Forgetting them would be forgetting who he was; forgetting them would be almost as bad as getting moon blinked.

He turned his head upward to let his eyes rest on the disappearing, blurry off-white silhouette of the moon. It was only a sliver less than half-full tonight, or at least, it seemed like it. For all the distortion against it, it could've been almost full. His pale eyes disappeared for a moment as he blinked against the now recognizable rain. It was rain now, not a drizzle. Not a driving rain, but just a little pitter in the night. It might get harder, and that was one thing he didn't want tonight. He rotated his head back down again, his amber eyes scanning the faint outline below him that marked the building in which he kept his makeshift nest. It was only temporary, just a few strands of grass and bits of moss. He decided when the weather cleared up he would look for a more permanent home, but tonight wasn't the night.

He came into a steep dive, loving the rush he got as the air cut through his feathers. All he could hear was the rain as he lashed past it, as if racing the water to the ground, or racing death until his neck broke at collision with the partial dirt and stone floor below. Death's wings were not something you could outpace, unless death somehow had mercy on you. They say death is pitiless, and let death lets you live years until it decides your time is up. Every day death unloads so much mercy on you. Lurchag came out of his thoughtful trace as the walls engulfed him, and he came to a screeching halt. It looked rather untidy, maybe even clumsy, but at least he managed not to crash into anything. He hovered for a moment, regaining his breath, until turning and lofting under a large archway, which ended in nothing less than a dead-end. He alighted himself against the stone below, before hopping over to the corner, and turning to watch the gathering storm outside. Water dripped off the stone above his head, and fell in a pleasant rhythm. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter... On and on, as if just waiting for an interruption.

[Maverick]

There was a new pitter patter in the area. It was lighter, and sounded like a gentle clicking. The clicking of talons.

Maverick hopped about the soft mud and grass ground. It was damp after the rain, and water droplet streamed down the thick stone walls around him. He eventually stopped and looked down. Maverick paused, seeming to breathe in the earth and it's aromas.

Before starting, Maverick rotated his head, making sure there were no hostile rogues or bands around. When he was sure he was safe, he began to scrape the soft ground with his talons, until he revealed three seperate burial places. There were two ice daggers and a handsomely curved ice scimitar. Maverick scooped up the daggers in one talon, and the scimitar in the other.

Before leaving, he flapped around a bit more, lifting off the ground and landing. He continued this pattern, looking for more places he had marked. He wouldn't be able to carry anymore, but he wanted to make sure there were more burial spots here before leaving.

After a few moments, he nodded to himself and flew off. Minutes passed, before he returned again, empty taloned, and poking around the soft mud below.

[Lurchag]

Lurchag was transfixed by the dripping of rain. It just seemed so peaceful, and unchanging. It seemed nothing bad could ever happen to the rain, and therefore, as long as he watched it, nothing would ever happen to him. It was like the rain had the power to stop time and all its malicious deeds, and all those who lived in time's realm. It was only when a faint flurry of wings ringed in his ears did he realize that he was a victim of time, and that he always would be, until death let him part. It was with great reluctance that he tore his dull eyes away from the seemingly magical liquid, and turned his head in the general direction in which the wings had come from. Though, he didn't catch the creator of the noise in time to see them land, so he spent a few futile minutes scanning the dreary skies. His brow furrowed when he saw no one, and cursed whoever it was for disturbing his thoughts for no reason at all.

When he was about to look back up toward the water, he once again heard those annoying sounds, only this time they were closer, and sounded much more like talons against ground. He glanced back down, ready to curse himself for imagining things up again, when his trained eyes fell upon the snowy, who was busy digging up the first set of ice weapons. Lurchag blinked a few times, half expecting the owl to disappear into a drizzle. He hadn't seen another owl in quite a while. Well, at least, not close up. Usually they just flew over, and didn't ever notice him. But he ignored them as well, as if they were nothing but dust under his own claws. Though, an owl right in front of you, almost, is something quite different. And one of that size, compared to your, was no laughing matter at all.

Lurchag gathered up the courage to hop forward, until he stood just behind the thin, sparse curtain of rain pouring off the archway. His eyes narrowed in strain to make out the features of the owl, until he noticed the weapons in its claws. Lurchag's eyes couldn't help but widen until he looked like a pathetic, frightened chick, which he could've almost passed for in size. That owl could kill him in mere moments if wished, and death, though sometimes tempting, wasn't exactly something he desired at the moment. He hopped backwards once, wings rearranging in a ruckus that was only masked because the owl took off then. Breathing hard with surprise at his Glaux-blessed luck, Lurchag stared at the spot the owl had last been at for a few moments, before tilting his head back to look at the sky. He breathed a tuned sigh of relief, which came out a shrill whistle.

He had relaxed by the time the owl came back, and cursed again that the creature had the nerve to disturb him again. He was slightly humbled by the fact that the owl was more than twice his size, but was made bold once again that the owl didn't seem to have the weapons any more. "Defend your... er, nest." His mind whispered, though it mimicked his nervousness in tone. Well, he could always dart away if anger flared. There was no chance of him defending himself, so he would just flee. Though, the thought of not being able to come back to this wonderful place made him hesitate a moment longer. Oh well. He had decided to find somewhere new anyway. He hopped forward a few times until he came into the open elements, the large droplets falling in a more than irritating manner on his head. This only helped to flare his attitude. Stupid owl. He cleared his throat to bring attention to himself, trying to sound both defiant but far from snooty at the same time. Ah well, he would explain himself after the owl spoke, which would hopefully make up for his rather rude appearance.

[Maverick]

Maverick swiveled his head around, just after digging up a hidden ice splinter. He gripped it tight in his talon, eyeing the Eastern Screech.

"Ah, greetings. Just doing a bit of my own buisness, and I'll be off your land as soon as possible. When I buried these things here - Glaux, it must've been quite a long while ago, I hadn't been aware that any owls nested in this area. Maybe a few rogue smiths, but, you get the idea, hm?"

He hadn't intended to find another owl out here. After his first trip, the place seemed pretty empty. This Screech must have been a quiet one. Maverick could only hope he was less than hostile.

[Lurchag]

Lurchag felt like stepping back and maybe chirping in fear when the snowy turned his head toward him. Those piercing eyes, the sheer size of the owl, and the ice dagger were combined into something that made the tiny screech regret his very existence. He inwardly cursed his stupidity, and felt himself shrink a bit, though wasn't sure if he really did. You could be sure if this little owl were human a stream of profanity would be sounding under his breath.

He was shocked, then, to hear the friendliness in the owl's voice. He was almost ready to come to the conclusion that the owl would kill him only after engaging in a nice conversation, but the sheer tone of speech, and the words themselves, weren't one of a homicidal owl, much less one who would drive him from his home. After all, the snowy had said he'd be gone as quick as he could. But words weren't always worth a twitch of the tail-feathers, as you know.

Lurchag blinked, before bobbing his head in a polite greeting. "This isn't exactly my land, per-say." He said cautiously, choosing his words with unexpected care. "So I can't rightfully say you are or are not welcome here. Though, if it was, I guess I could say you could spend as much time retrieving your... weapons." He glanced uncomfortably at the ice dagger, though the look lasted less than a second. "Anyway," He started again, trying to make up for his stop. "My name's Lurchag. Would it be rude to ask yours?" All the time spent in silence was showing, since it seemed he was having an outbreak of speech, pointless or otherwise. "Oh well. If the snowy had come here on his own will, then he had brought this upon himself, I suppose."

[Maverick]

"Ah! You may call me Maverick."

Good. This owl doesn't seem hostile - though perhaps a bit shocked. I guess I would be jumpy too, spending my time in a place like this.

He eyed the stone walls around him quickly, turning back to Lurchag.

"I'm...sorry that I cannot stay long. I'll need to move these weapons quickly to their next location." Maverick nodded down to the ice splinter in his grip.

Maverick kept his words short, not wanting to let his intentions slip. Personalities could be deceiving, even if one must go against their gizzardly instincts.

[Lurchag]

Lurchag was unresponsive for a moment, wondering how to reply. "Maverick... Hm, never heard of 'im." So, instead of making himself look like an even more foolish, he just bobbed his head in response. Then he blinked, watching the much larger owl carefully, trying to watch for any movement that might occur and therefore be able to react. If this turned ugly, the only thing he had in advantage was speed, and a firm knowledge of the layout of this creepy place. Of course, if this owl had buried those weapons here and then remembered where they were easily enough to be able to dig them up again, Maverick too had to know this place well. Of course, there were always other possibilities that Lurchag would rather leave not detailed.

He still felt uneasy, and he felt the skin on his wings start to have a slight tingling sensation, and it just went to show how much his subconscious mind wanted to leap away. He hadn't exactly had a very good history with snowies. At least, not the last one he met. He inwardly shivered, but didn't physically move in any way, besides maybe a blink or two.

The little screech was knocked back into cold reality by the sound of the snowy's voice, and he shuffled his feet slightly in embarrassment. Night dreaming wasn't exactly the best thing you could be doing at a time like this. Lurchag tipped his beak down slightly to look at the dagger, wondering exactly what owl's skin it would pierce. Perhaps that of Aries, or Hermes, or perhaps one of a band he had never heard of. What exactly were those little slivers of ice going to be used for? If the screech had gotten his way with all those deadly weapons, he would've found a nice smith's fire and thrown them all into it. He knew it took just something as small as that to wreck a future and stain a past.

He blinked again, turning his head back to fully face Maverick. He nodded, once again, but this time followed the movement with speech. "I see." He said, his eyes narrowing a bit in suspicion, though quickly realized the expression was there and wiped it away. For Glaux he hoped the other owl hadn't notice or wouldn't bother with the information about that. "Well, do whatever you must then." Of course, he meant that about the weapons and leaving and whatever else. But he realized it could also have a bit of violence behind that. "Don't take that too literally." He willed the other owl, though there was a bit of a joking tone behind it. His gizzard didn't truly believe that this owl was out to hurt him, but his brain still cautioned him. A classic problem.

[Maverick]

Maverick nodded in confirmation. He hoped he hadn't made the Screech nervous. The last thing Maverick wanted on his mind was the feeling he had many anyone uneasy or angry.

"Thank you, it was nice meeting you - Lurchag, though I must now take my leave."

Maverick nodded one last time to him, before raising in flight with the ice splinter still gripped in his talon. He flew off, back towards the Spirit Woods, taking one last glance back at the lonely Screech.

"Glaux bless him." Maverick said to himself.