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Comfort seems unperturbed by the owlcat's attentions--apparently small cute ghosts don't alarm her in the way that majestic stags do. She gives an obliging flick of her tail for it to chase, mindful of the bird on her antlers.

She is silent for a long moment, considering the offer, and when she speaks her voice is full of quavering uncertainty. This is not her normal day, and that was not a normal offer, so perhaps that all works out. She can't tell, and her words betray it: "A generous thing," she hazards. "I would... it seems to enjoy your company. And how can I not be sure," she says, treading as close to a joke as Comfort ever gets, "that you're not just trying to foist a hungry nuisance off on a curious stranger?" Her eyes move from the serpent to Fiend's face--and she looks at that face directly, unafraid.

He blinks at her directness, staring into milky blueness, sunlight slightly delving before bouncing off the hard shell of her mask. His eyes move around her head until he reads that she's not afraid of him, nor does she want anything from him. It's an honest look. And he matches it with his own.

"It's free to go wherever, but I just thought you'd like to add another feathery friend to your flock. It would be up to the serpent ultimately though." With that he looks to her tail, the obvious center of attention between the owlcat and the serpent who is hovering ever so lazily in the air, watchful eyes keen on what it perceives as newcomers. It alternates between looking at Comfort and Fiend before the stag addresses the unasked question.

"Where did you get your mask?"

It's not a topic he thinks about much, his origins. What's more important is his journey and what he does now. But that's a loaded topic and he instead chooses to regale her without the self-pitying. He is trying to shed that pelt. "I met an old friend" the Great Crane "and after kicking my a** metaphysically, she set me straight and gave me a new skin to wear." It wasn't entirely untrue. She gave him two, but he answers the way Comfort is angling for. "My other mask has feathers. Birds of a feather flock together I suppose."

The owlcat follows Comfort's tail, its tiny mind noticing how long both tails are. Her tiny head flits from to and fro. The feathered serpent instead makes the decision for them, striking Comfort's tail. It's taking stock of this new walking skeleton.

Her question startles him. And he knew of course which Stag she is talking about. Fiend is not a centipede. Of all things she ponders him as a crane with bony legs and a beak. Not that there is anything wrong with that, he mentally apologizes to MotherFather. "No," he huffs indignantly, a little slighted because although flight was great, he preferred the comforting friendliness afforded to hounds, "I am an eaglehound" He states that bit majestically. He is proud of his new form.

"I can't fly or serenade you to sleep with my sweet trills, but I can climb pretty far up on trees and howl a range of notes." Fiend likes to practice with the off-note owlcat. The feathered serpent prefers to hiss with laughter.

"Do you sing? Or does your mask get in the way?" He's making smalltalk now, and he slides his hair closer to hide his side lest she sees how furiously his little heart is beating. He almost wills her to take the feathered serpent. At least then they would have a connection. Let's not ignore the big truth: Fiend does not know how to make friends.

"Yes, I heard your tunes amid your silencing of the leaves . Did you expect to see worms crawling around my bones and out my eye socket?" He tries to make a joke and it falls flat. Even he can see the writing in the clouds. "This big worm here" his tail flicks to Comfort's head-bumping acquaintance "will keep you company." He tries to sound austere in the way Mares and Stags should, but a smile breaks free when he sees how proudly she wears her skull. Perhaps when they meet next he'll be better armed with charm. If not charm, then his own dirge to share about the Black Dog cycles. Because everyone loves a good battle story about fair play. And with that, he turns to leave, shifting to his eaglehound form. He makes for a quick exit, not wanting to stay around to see if she rejects him. Fiend doesn't like sad stories. Not with this Comfort of the Vale.

Goosebumps grows exasperated with the cat and mouse game the two kimeti play and fancies a hunt of birds. But not Comfort's birds. Those seem too shrewd.

The feathered serpent leans back into the nose-led bump. It accepts the motion cautiously, eyes afix to Comfort. This big skeleton is strange and smells differently. It hisses soundlessly, the tongue making a furtive sweep of its lipless mouth.