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 Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 12:50 pm
 Lately things had been a bit quiet.
Not to say that quiet was a bad thing. Given the rift between upper and lower class, squabbles were common and, if they squabbled hard enough, they could become dangerous. She'd been in her fair share, but generally was known around the flock as a good and entertaining creature, performing for all walks of life. Her feats with fire were awe inspiring and her tricks were highly dangerous for anything made of fluff and feathers. The feathery little firebug mulled over this as she made her way to a particular busy rooftop.
Clutched in her dark claws was her "soapbox," an abandoned old cardboard box that would suite her purpose.
Once she found herself a nice, promising spot, she dropped the little box and landed on it in an overly theatrical manner, trying to call as much attention to herself by her curious movements, rather than announcing her own arrival verbally. She hadn't seen Nintendo or Merry, so it may be that no robberies took place this afternoon, but her reason for setting up was not to distract a crowd, but to enthrall them.
She moved with the practiced skill of one who has done this many times, because she had. She fumbled with her matchbook, withdrawing several of the dangerous little items.
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Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 1:14 pm
 Low-class seemed to usually be a synonym for "thief" in many a Pidge's mind, but Lunar Rover didn't care. She knew she looked a bit dirty though she didn't try to look slimy. Why appear like something she wasn't? It was the real thieves she'd have to look out for, being on this rooftop with her inking supplies.
The sound of a box colliding with the floor and a Pidge following suit caught the Inker's eye. What was this? Rev flitted over the rooftop, watching for any Pidge that possibly had any berries for trade. His tea needed new flavoring, and fruit would be perfect! ...If there was any to be found.
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 12:08 pm
 Around The World In Eighty Days, the star speckled shrimp of a pidge with the Moby d**k of a name made a sharp turn round a crumbling chimney pot, riding the evening's breeze and pulling himself further up into the air with another strong push of his foggy wings, the thin needle on his elaborate compass swinging round in an eccentric manner as he did so.
The well trained travelling tradesman's wings were once again growing tired from the day's efforts of carrying his items on his back. He really did need to find some pidge to trade with soon, and a safe spot to roost. Goodness knows he'd appreciate being able to slide that backpack off for a little while. Some place sheltered and warm to rest and...
A flicker of white light suddenly hit his vision, his first reaction to be taking a small gasping intake of breath at the thought it could have been lightning, his frightful nemesis, yet the sky was calm. He shook his head to ruffle the thought away, and looked down once again at the source of the light.
A dark yet marvellously firey inked pidge was holding but a burning stick. A human's flame stick, right above those fine feathers, dancing and licking and nipping so close, yet never quite biting its master. Days gazed totally awe-struck at the little act, and found himself dropping onto the rim of another red brick chimney behind a brown pidge, and one who seemed they could be none other than an inker. The warmth and lights had drawn him right into the act, yet with a subtle movement he attempted to cover his compass with the length of his scarf. The only run-in he'd had with pidge in this area so far, was with thieves, and unbeknown to him, a friend of this marvellous performing pidge.
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Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 9:34 am
Firefox couldn't help but grin as she took her place on her box and lit her first match, the others tucked safely under her paws for later use. She was seemingly enthralled with her own movements, though her sharp eyes were moving along the others who had settled on this particular rooftop, on the edge of the park. She noted a few already who expressed interest and a smile slid across her dark beak.
She held the lit match between a few feathers, careful to keep the flame far enough from her self to keep from catching, and moved it in patterns in the air, grinning like a madbird. The little firebug was in her element as she swirled the lit match for onlookers.
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