04-02-2016, 06:52 PM
The bird pauses upon words meeting its probably-a-brain (in there somewhere...maybe), a black pointed tongue lolling from its bill in a goofy attempt at a grin, and its head gives an exaggerated left-to-right and right-to-left scanning motion over the pair of folks.
More humans, but at least it can be said that these ones at least seem to have some sort of manner to their method (to their madness).
Both of them look a bit flustered, probably flummoxed by its sheer awesomeness.
Rolling its tongue back, the bird begins its approach once more, and while doing so starts shifting again, its wings folding back like normal while a second pair of arms, these ones looking a lot like its bird legs, unfold from beneath its chest and hang from their sockets, while the bird itself rises to its legs, now walking with its posture a bit more like a regular bird, and, finally, its tail feathers lengthening in a shower like a waterfall, drooping and dragging across the ground in the same manner as a male peafowl.
Once complete, the bird stops once again, now a respectable distance from the duo for a conversation, and it offers up another gesture of exaggeration, one arm crossing its chest, the other held close behind its back, and its spine making a long, low sweep in a graceful bow.
And then it talks.
And all manner of culture and grace is lost in its voice, because goldarnit something musta gone wrong (or right?) with its vocal chords, and it sounds just like you'd expect a blue jay to sound like -- or, rather, a blue jay stuck in the gratingly rough call of "jayjayjay" crackling like popcorn and curt as...some guy named Curt.
Not to mention the bird's..."vocabulary" itself.
"Ain't got no name!" states the feathered beast, rising again to its full height (at least a couple feet taller than the both of them).
Then it says "Eyy," and, within an instant, hops up far closer than comfort should allow, and without warning gives an experimental tug to both of their shirts.
"Love your clothes, guy!"
Its throat starts to shimmer, until a globe of Omnilium rolls out of its mouth and wraps itself around its upper body, slowly turning into a white poncho nicely patterned with light blue buildings atop a dark bridge over deep blue a river, all wrapping around it in a mirroring way with a night sky of triangles dancing along the top and bottom edges.
"So whazzup, buddy ol pal o mine?" the bird continues to chatter, leaping back to its original place, though all manner of respect in it is probably lost by now.
It pauses, leaning forward and trying to get a better look at their belongings, though taking no further steps forward.
"You don't happen to got any...delights wif ya, do ye?
Ei haven't ate-n in nearly two weeks, prob'ly!"
The bird gives a raucous (and utterly unnecessary) explosion of laughter, eyeing them in a disturbingly hungry means.
More humans, but at least it can be said that these ones at least seem to have some sort of manner to their method (to their madness).
Both of them look a bit flustered, probably flummoxed by its sheer awesomeness.
Rolling its tongue back, the bird begins its approach once more, and while doing so starts shifting again, its wings folding back like normal while a second pair of arms, these ones looking a lot like its bird legs, unfold from beneath its chest and hang from their sockets, while the bird itself rises to its legs, now walking with its posture a bit more like a regular bird, and, finally, its tail feathers lengthening in a shower like a waterfall, drooping and dragging across the ground in the same manner as a male peafowl.
Once complete, the bird stops once again, now a respectable distance from the duo for a conversation, and it offers up another gesture of exaggeration, one arm crossing its chest, the other held close behind its back, and its spine making a long, low sweep in a graceful bow.
And then it talks.
And all manner of culture and grace is lost in its voice, because goldarnit something musta gone wrong (or right?) with its vocal chords, and it sounds just like you'd expect a blue jay to sound like -- or, rather, a blue jay stuck in the gratingly rough call of "jayjayjay" crackling like popcorn and curt as...some guy named Curt.
Not to mention the bird's..."vocabulary" itself.
"Ain't got no name!" states the feathered beast, rising again to its full height (at least a couple feet taller than the both of them).
Then it says "Eyy," and, within an instant, hops up far closer than comfort should allow, and without warning gives an experimental tug to both of their shirts.
"Love your clothes, guy!"
Its throat starts to shimmer, until a globe of Omnilium rolls out of its mouth and wraps itself around its upper body, slowly turning into a white poncho nicely patterned with light blue buildings atop a dark bridge over deep blue a river, all wrapping around it in a mirroring way with a night sky of triangles dancing along the top and bottom edges.
"So whazzup, buddy ol pal o mine?" the bird continues to chatter, leaping back to its original place, though all manner of respect in it is probably lost by now.
It pauses, leaning forward and trying to get a better look at their belongings, though taking no further steps forward.
"You don't happen to got any...delights wif ya, do ye?
Ei haven't ate-n in nearly two weeks, prob'ly!"
The bird gives a raucous (and utterly unnecessary) explosion of laughter, eyeing them in a disturbingly hungry means.