[LOG] The Calling Song (Kestrel x Hresvelgr)

[Ryuukishin]

Kestrel (Ryuukishin) & Hresvelgr (techabyte)





Tech & Metronome

 

[Ryuukishin]

Ryuukishin:

Kestrel winged low, his keen eyes inspecting the air in search of his quarry: a hummingbird with a lovely singing voice. He spotted no movement despite the strong afternoon light, and with a contemplative huff, he landed upon the earth. The grass here reached up to his knees, and the soft perfume of flowers could be scented on the breeze. That was good; hummingbirds often came to places like this to eat, which meant he was on the right track.

Tucking in his wings, he followed the trail the floral scent left behind. He grumbled when it led him to the edge of the of the forest that bordered the meadow, but compliantly dipped his antlers beneath the lowest branches and began his trek amongst the trees.  

[Ryuukishin]

techabyte:

Metro shifted somewhat under his fathers gaze, the two letting out small noises. Tech seemed to almost laugh at the way his son fidgeted. After a moment, he let out small noises of a song, his voice gentle and soothing like the summer breeze. It didn't take long for Metro to join in, his wings fluffing up some, and head tilting, causing his hat to tilt to the side of his head.

Hresvelgr paused at the sight of the birds, her feathers shifting along her back and her eyes locked. Her paws flexed under her at the sight. She could hunt them. She could enjoy a small snack before a bigger hunt. But that would mean getting into the trees. For now though, she was perfectly content watching them for now. For some reason, the sounds they made comforted her. She flicked her tail, causing the long hair to shift behind her and fall down in small waves until finally stilling. "...."  

[Ryuukishin]

Ryuukishin:

Kestrel’s ears shot up at the burst of song and his pace quickened, his claws boring gauges without sound along the damp topsoil. As he neared, he realized there were two birds in place of one – but that should be all right, so long as his own quarry was there.

Knowing his appearance might frighten them and undo all the efforts of his hunting, he snapped off a pungent purple flower as he passed, hoping its scent would communicate his peaceful intentions before the birds caught sight of him. The aroma was so strong it was almost dizzying and made it impossible for him to smell much else. As it was, he allowed the lilting voices to guide him in the right direction.

“Greetings, little birds,” he crooned with a raspy voice that was almost effeminate, the flower having been tucked against his ear. He’d approached opposite of the hidden wolf, and did not sense her.