Welcome to Gaia! ::

Mag was finally starting to feel a bit better. The loud commotion around made her previous thoughts seem somewhat distant... It was time to have fun now!
And then she noticed a familiar face.
"Citrine!" She said, noticing the bright sentinel not so far away. "How are you doing?"

Thorn and Liam had arrived late, as usual, thanks to Roth's sudden disappearance. Liam was carrying the wayward Skurry by his tail as he fluttered around looking for a crafter to talk to, leaving Thorn and Cassiel free to do what they liked. The jangling mess that was a heavily-dyed Wildtype bard caught his eye, and he and the Chirops flew over to investigate. Thorn settled himself on a nearby branch as the bard tried to figure out how to escape. A Shadow male was watching, too, and, since neither looked particularly unfriendly, he opened his beak. "Hallo," he said. "Are you ok, Mr. Bard?"

"Wonderful." ^__^

Citrine took flight, from tree to tree in small jaunts. Her ears caught her name again, but only barely as she landed near the gatherer's area. Had someone just be speaking to her?

Tempest followed behind her, his wings soundless in his hop-flight after his mother. He kept up well enough that Citrine didn't have to look over her shoulder after every jump. It was nice to think that she could trust him to follow after.

The food looked fantastic and as much as Tempest wanted to start towards it he waited for his mother and Sandriver to start first. The elite was interesting, different in that his mother didn't feel that she had to protect him with the stranger around. He liked that.

Citrine was greatful for Sandri's presence. Even with hostile looks from the gatherers none of them argued the takings of either Citrine or Tempest with the Elite near by.

Tousled had listened with glittering eyes to the Brigadier's wonderful tale. For being such an impressive and SCARY bird, he sure was a magnificient storyteller. As the tale ended and the crowd around her erupted into cheers and festivity, the ruffled little female found herself in solemn contemplation. She had an even greater respect for the scarred leader of all sentinels, now.

She hadn't even noticed the humming sound off to her far right, but she distinctly heard when it stopped - especially since it was finished with a sharp "Ow!", spoken in a very familiar voice.

Oh... Birch! She had spotted him earlier and tried to find him in the crowd - she wasn't sure why, but she had been telling herself that it was because she would definitely be entertained if she could stick close to him. Maybe they could even talk a bit more. But she had had to stop looking and settle down when the Brigadier had landed on his lofty perch and called for silence.

She didn't have enough room now to lift off, but hopped and jumped through the crowd, mubling quiet little "excuse me"'s to all the sentinels she accidentally brushed against, and soon she saw the bard she had been looking for... in a very tangled mess.

She was about to approach him when a large, elegant Shadow male appeared on the scene and started chatting to the tangled-up bard. Tousled didn't know this new person, and therefore hesitated. The situation only got worse when even more people showed up, trying to help poor Birch out of his predicament.

But on the other hand, the little crafter really couldn't stand the slow, ineffective way in which all these nice sentinels were trying to untie the bard, so she decided to compromise with herself and sneaked up to the scene slowly, hiding in the crowd...

Hawthorn continues his slow and mostly-ineffectual tugging, being very careful not to damage Birch's instrument, and gives a good-natured groan as the Bard begins to sing. "I'm going to have that stuck in my head all night if you keep on!" But he's joking, and eventually he begins to hum along with the tune.

Tug, tug. Pull. This is taking a long time, and it must be said for all of Hawthorn's willingness to help, he's not very good at this.

Luckily for Hawthorn, Tousled has finally made her way all the way up to the tangled bard. She halts herself for a moment, debating whether or not to make her presence known, but that sneaky little voice at the back of her head that won't ever let her stop trying to preen herself, insists on not leaving room for anyone else to take the credit for this.

Taking a very deep breath to calm her racing heart, she clears her throat behind the back of the elegant but oh so ineffectual Shadow male.

"Hrm, excuse me..." she has to speak up a little louder than she usually does, to be heard over the joyful crowd, and that, too, makes her nervous. "I think maybe I should handle that. May I?"

Thorn giggled at the comparison of the names. He was glad the older Sentinel seemed to like him. "I've never seen her before. I like her feathers, though. They look soft. She's Deep Woods, like me, I think." He happily chattered on. "This is my Chirops, Cassiel. I want to be a crafter when I grow up. Liam, my Minder, is looking for one, so they can teach me. What do you do, Mr. Hawthorn?"