Welcome to Gaia! ::

The kestrel was not the bird he once was. At least, not within his own mind. He'd lost. He'd lost. He'd lost. And he had the wounds to show for it too. The black eye was perhaps the most obvious, swollen and purple, so that the amber of his eye only barely peaked through. Then there was the bandage on his wing. Luckily, he hadn't broken it, but he'd managed to lose more than a couple feathers, and cut it up besides.

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that the battle he'd lost less than a week ago would be the only one he'd lost. He would get bigger and older, he would find the control of his powers and then he'd find the man and kill him. It was what they did, after. The thought was comforting, enough to put some confidence back into his usual slouched posture. He just needed some practice, some time.

Just wait.

It was then that he spotted Diacyn, sitting on the park bench eating icecream. Sweets were more his sibling's thing, but he'd gone out of his comfort zone once or twice, curiousity pushing him to at least try stuff. Icecream, he remembered, was cold.

Happy to find company, he strolled idly over to the other bird, his expression shifting from contemplative to lazily amused. "Hey Diacyn."

"Got'n a fight." The response was made with a dismissive shrug, as if the fight itself was barely worth mentioning. "Lost. Kill the ******** next time."

It was true. Oh, it was so very true. There'd be blood on the air, and the man would learn what it meant to mess with what was his. Even if it was something he claimed for such a little while.

But back to the matter at hand. There was kin about, and that always made him feel a bit better about the world. Nice to know he wasn't the only one just a little on the interesting side of insanity. He was pretty sure it was part of their nature.

He might like his sibling and the Zombie baby, but he didn't really understand them. Kin made sense.

Mostly.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Math? You mean with numbers and stuff? Why'd we need someing like that?" He managed something like a laugh, a short huh of amusement and a shrug as he watched the paper being tossed away.

As it should be.

"Some guy. He was tryin' to hurt my cousin." No further explination, mostly because he couldn't give it. the man had tasted like death, like his death, and that had been enough to set him off. Violence was all well and good, but he wouldn't allow damage to his own. Earako was good to him. She fixed his clothes. "We didn't fight with swords. I'd need a real ********' sword for that."

His hands fell to the pair of wooden swords that hung on his belt, and his expression was almost regretful. "Wish I had had something sharper."

Diacyn's last comment was met only with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Savius took a confused step back as Diacyn stood, his smirk fading quickly as he remembered his previous dark mood. What was this all about? He smiled and the owl threw a fit? What the hell?

"What the hell?" Again, the grip on his sword, but now it wasn't affectionate or regretful. There was anger there, or at least defensiveness. "I wasn't laughing."

And he hadn't been laughing. Smirking, sure, but there was a matter of degree to consider here. Savius almost never laughed. He smiled, shrugged, even managed a brief chuckle or two. But laughing took more energy and emotion than he usually felt like spending.

"But you wouldn't have won."

"'course people can be stronger than me. Lost didn't I." But forget logic. Diacyn was positively bristling, and while Savius didn't feel quite the same strength of anger, he was certainly irritated. And that was a good thing. He'd learned, recently, that true driving anger made him a bit light headed.

He streached, taking his hand off his sword and rolling his shoulder. It was a lazy, relaxed movement as he let the Owl continue speaking. Fine. They'd fight.

Whatever.

Reaching to his waist, he pulled out both his wooden swords, holding them both toward Diacyn. "Well then, beat me. Choose your weapon."

His voice was thick with what wasn't so much anger as it was irritated amusement.

He hadn't been sure that the other boy would actually agree with his challange, and some small bit of surprise showed in the Kestrel's eyes as Diacyn took one of his swords.

Backing up, he watched the owl try a few swings, waiting patiently for the real challenge to begin. He'd 'sword fought' more than once with Jer'ain, but he knew this was gonna be different. This wasn't a game, too his shock, Diacyn apparently didn't like him very much.

Showed what he knew.

He stood at ready while he waited for the first attack, a position simular to what someone might take in a tennis match. Whether that was right or not, well, no one had told him differently. It seemed comfortable enough, right?

Diacyn's movement warned him of the attack, enough so that he was able to begin to step sideways, away from him. But his movement wasn't fast enough, and the wooden blade hit him hard in the arm, bringing a grunt from the boy.

Continuing to move sideway, he swung his own blade toward the owl, aiming to hit him in the side.

Oof. Distracted by the success in scoring a hit, Savius missed Diacyn's movement and took the hit firmly in the ribs. Now that had hurt. Hissing in real pain the kestrel tightened his grip on his sword. Something, part anger, part determination was taking over now.

He wasn't going to lose two fights, not so close together.

Moving with anger (and perhaps the advice of one too many movies) Savius jabbed with the sword, aiming right at Diacyn's stomach. Not a bad move, maybe, if he'd been fighting with steal. But he was hardly going to succeed in running the owl through with a wooden sword.