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 Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 12:58 am
Oooh... Bracken puffed himself up agitatedly, his eyes narrowing into a ground out yellow. As if he would ever want one of those dumb, noisy objects! There was no point to them, their only purpose to annoy other Sentinels until, perhaps, lunacy struck them.
"I believe you're going a bit far," he snapped, moments away from trying to bite the tailfeathers off of this... uncultured slob of a Bard- but, he had to remind himself, that they were all probably like this.
It wasn't helping.
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Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 2:15 pm
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Birch said, and he almost sounded sincere. But at this point he couldn't care less what the Seeker thought about him. As far as he was concerned Bracken was just another stuck up, meat-for-brains combatant. A bad temper and no trace of humour completed the picture of a truly unpleasant character. He had almost seemed like an okay guy, but as the conversation progressed Bracken had confirmed every opinion about combatants Birch already had.
"If that was all," he said casually and turned around, ready to fly, "I should really get back to work."
He looked ready to leave when he suddenly turned his head around to face Bracken again. He looked pensive, as if he had just thought of something.
"Pity," he said, "I think silver bells would have suited you. You're pretty for a combatant."
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Posted: Sat Dec 20, 2008 4:12 am
Pretty. Pretty? It took a moment for the Seeker to consider what Birch had said, and what he'd actually meant.
Pretty?
Something visible in Bracken's eyes went up in yellow flame. That did it. That last comment pushed him over the edge, and he dove for the Bard in a screech of anger, feathers ruffled and beak snapping at anything he could n** at. He was beyond words, now, and the only thing that could satiate his rage was to physically destroy something.
The Seeker hadn't been trained for fighting, per se- not with wing and talon, and to be truthful, Bracken wasn't very strong or swift. He'd always been about the same as any average joe- and while he'd gotten into scraps in the past, usually they had all been with those who were smaller, younger, or weaker. Taking on a healthy adult was a completely different story.
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Posted: Mon Dec 29, 2008 2:43 pm
Birch watched the change in Brackens expression and turned away with a satisfied smirk. This was usually when the shouting began. He loved how easy it was to make one of these pompous owls lose every last trace of dignity and resort to yelling, hissing and clacking. And the best part was that it made them look bad while he flew away without a feather out of place. This was what usually happened, but Birch had provoked the wrong sentinel this time. He was completely unprepared to be attacked.
Now, the shrieking was normal, but Birch realised his mistake when Bracken attacked from behind and started ripping at his feathers. Had Birch been anything like his family Bracken would have been in big trouble, but the bard had somehow managed to go through his fledglinghood without picking up any fighting skills at all. He didn't want to and he didn't have to since "My mother is an Elite!" had discouraged most bullies. Birch had since stopped hiding behind his mother, but he hadn't bothered to learn how to fight.
His ear tufts were pressed tightly against his head and he thrashed around in a futile effort to get away or at least get Bracken to back off. He could feel feathers being ripped from his back and hissed from the pain as he finally managed to leave the perch. Flying away seemed like a great option right now, ruffled feathers or not.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Careful with the preening, I'm fond of those feathers." In retrospect it wasn't the smoothest thing to say, but Birch had always had trouble knowing when to shut up.
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