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Jaeger Erdarastrix Vice Captain
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 Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 11:10 am
"Mm. So long as his wits aren't addled." And that is that-- his tone makes it clear that his thoughts are drifting elsewhere, and this issue (at least between them) is as settled as it's going to be. He does not blame her. Fletcher's words catch his attention, and his mind revisits the problem they've discussed, somewhat heatedly, more than once. His gaze continues to rest on the feather; it is not Fletcher's.
Sleet is young, yes. And so hungry to prove himself. And what happens? He has been constantly and inexplicably bested by a Sentinel who even the fledglings laugh at. The situation the Brigadier has put the poor young male in is almost untenable, and for the first time he realizes the entirety of it, and the consequences beyond the annoyance that Fletcher must deal with. Yes, he will talk with the young male. And then Sleet will talk with Fletcher. And then perhaps the two younger Sentinels (the Brigadier will never be able to consider Fletcher -old-, even if she is one of the Ageless) will be able to come to some sort of middle ground. Sleet has a lot to learn, and Fletcher would be a good teacher, if--...
His gaze has flicked from the feather, and he carefully examines the russet Watcher. "I want you to retake this part of the territory," he says quickly, his voice rough. "Use it as a classroom... of sorts." The old bird is just as abrupt as he typically is when a new idea takes him, but this time the idea hurts-- it's best to spit it out quickly.
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 11:26 am
The Brigadier's drifting attention is welcomed. This is done, and settled, and now she doesn't need to worry about it any longer. Now she can focus on something far more important - simple enjoyment of his presence, and this place. If she closes her eyes just so, and leans back a little... she can almost hear it all again, almost re-live that time. It's all there, dancing at the edge of her memories.
But then he words shove all of that reverie away. She startles, squawking in a rather undignified manner, and stumbles back a few steps until her tailfeathers brush against the wall. "What!?" This place? Teaching? But then others would... other could... This isn't a place for anyone else! This is his place, his secret. Besides, she already has her own territory. And it's safe. It's open, and she can see everything, and it's SAFE.
But old habits die hard, and she'd do almost anything for the Brigadier. So instead of voicing her immediate disapproval Fletcher peers up at him, a little lost, and peeps quietly. "Why?"
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Jaeger Erdarastrix Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 3:02 pm
Like an ancient tree against the wind, the Brigadier stands firm against Fletcher's sudden reaction-- his feathers all rise briefly, then settle in a slow wave. The older male does not answer at once; he only watches her, somewhat sadly, and closes his eyes when she peeps.
"The Clan has lost something important." The Central Platform cannot be easily replaced, but something must bridge the gap-- even if that something will never be used or recognized by the majority of those living in Noctua. He has a debt to make up to both Sleet and Fletcher, although he's suggesting a strange and counter-intuitive way of going about it. Worry does not touch his face, but it's clearly audible in his baritone rumble when he speaks: "We-- I-- keep this place for myself, not for the Clan. We could make it-- useful again." Finally, there's the faintest hitch in his voice. Make it useful, yes. And lose it as it is forever. He glances away from the smaller female, eartufts lowering.
What was an order has weakened to an idea. He finds himself staring at the darker russet feather again, his feathered brow furrowed. "What good is it now?" She would call it a waste. ...wouldn't she?
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 4:01 pm
What was initially intended as a quick visit to banish her fears has turned into something far more difficult than Fletcher had ever anticipated. The effort required to keep herself under control would be painfully obvious to the older Sentinel, as the strain begins to show in the pale depths of her gaze. It's not easy for her, no matter how calming this region of the forest may be.
And the prospect of losing this, however noble the reason, causes a sense of wild desperation to bubble up from within. Her mind races, scrambling to find reason upon reason to pile before the Brigadier. Something, anything that she can say to convince him that this is a bad idea. That this isn't what she would have wanted.
As the silence grows between them, Fletcher begins to pant faintly and shakes her head. Caught. "None, none, no good at all for anyone," except for the two of them, "could be useful." The admission seems to come unwillingly, each word clipped short. "But, still. Rebuild, as a clan, yes, yes, we should. Build a new platform as well."
Yes, she would call it a waste. And deep within, Fletcher always knew that this was a tragic waste. But, selfishly, she's been glad to have it that way for these long years. Even now, the idea of giving it up is making her heart race in fear.
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Jaeger Erdarastrix Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 4:25 pm
The old male's head swivels slowly, but his eyes stay on the feather until the last possible moment when they flick back to Fletcher. He can see the physical reaction in the Watcher, and it is enough to break through his usual hardened facade. The Brigadier looks exhausted and miserable... or at least, so he appears to the smaller female's experienced eyes.
The idea is not a bad one, even if it's painful-- and the clipped words from Fletcher reaffirm that. The dangerous thing about it is that he is not certain that either himself or Fletcher would be capable of restraining themselves if the slightest bit of naive disrespect were to be shown to this ancient place. The innocent (and inevitable) talon-scraping of a fledgling over some mark made long ago could have dire and uncontrollable consequences. Is it worth it? The old bird isn't certain. And while he very rarely wavers in his convictions, this is a decision that it seems will require more thought.
And even were he blind in both eyes, he would be able to see what the idea is doing to Fletcher. It's doing the opposite of what needs to be done to encourage her towards becoming a normal member of society again. Doing further damage, perhaps. The idea of that-- a step backwards during what he has always hoped would be forward progress-- is enough to make the Brigadier take a heavy hop towards the smaller female and rouse his feathers, leaning his bulk solidly against her side.
His head dips; the preening is almost automatic, and more natural in these surroundings than in any other. "...It can wait." Even if his conversation with Sleet cannot.
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 5:41 pm
"S-sorry, sorry," the apology is automatic, mumbled into her chest as she greedily crowds against his soothing bulk. Eyes closed, nestled against him, it's easier to shut out the rest of the world and forget, for a short time, that things have come to the end they have. But when she dares to peek out from her shelter nothing has changed. Nothing ever changes. The old hollow is empty, abandoned. The air is still and calm, but... too still. What was once comforting becomes oppressive, memories of a once-full household pushing forward to contrast starkly with the painful emptiness that followed in the wake of the war.
Fletcher sighs, her heart and breathing beginning to settle down even if her mind is still racing. "It never stops," she fusses, preening delicately at his chest, "never, ever, never gets any easier." And she falters, stumbling over her words and thoughts, before looking up at the massive Sentinel who has sheltered her for so many countless years.
"M-maybe... maybe, just maybe, we need to make a change? To make it get easier?" It's hard, and it hurts, and she's wincing even as she suggests it. But the russet-feathered Aberrant forces herself to push on, forces the words out of her reluctant mind and beak. "Just, just a little. Not here, not yet. But, may-maybe, maybe some of the other heartlands?"
Because if nothing ever changes, then nothing will ever get better. The prospect of such change terrifies her, but maybe that's a good thing.
Maybe.
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Jaeger Erdarastrix Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 10:32 am
He is initially silent as she speaks; even as his body is there to shelter and protect, the old bird's mind is clearly elsewhere. His thoughts are caught on things that should have been, and things that may still be possible. On Fletcher's state, and on Sleet's. On the Clan as a whole, and how long he has been here, and whether or not he should be here still. But the preening brings his attention back in time for him to catch, with some surprise, the russet female's uncharacteristic suggestion.
There is a slow change in the male as he glances down to meet her eyes. His tufts rise slowly, his eyes widen-- and then, like the moon rising out of the dusty hues of sunset, a slow smile creeps across his worn face. Yes, yes. He looks down at her wordlessly-- for all the world like a father looking with wonder on his first hatchling, still wet from the shell.
"...I'm proud of you," he rumbles quietly, carefully preening the top of the Watcher's head. There's a low ripple of excitement and hope somewhere deep inside him; he does not let himself dwell on it, but there is perhaps hope in his heart that was not there before. Good girl. Good girl.
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