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Post by Kristofor on May 9, 2024 3:50:15 GMT -6
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Post by Kristofor on May 9, 2024 3:58:08 GMT -6
![](https://theblackbones.neocities.org/premade/autumnsspring_b_Kristofor.png) Properly cared for nails twiddle against the desk as he listens to someone babble onwards on the other side. Swearing up and down they have no money but this barrel-sized...thing... is more then worth its weight in gold. Their puppy leash pinned under one foot as they're cart salesmaning up this object, in a picture before them. "I'm not the adventuring type and its as big as you standing next to this." Kristofor reasons, poking the photograph. "What could possibly come out of it." A good luck charm, the customer reasons. Absorbs bad luck like a sponge and nothing will happen to it. His ears cant back briefly. He's not 'that' unlucky. "This charm will be a downpayment. I do expect to be paid for my work. Giant barrel orbs dont' pay my rent." Its a true statement, and he's got a limit on what he can keep here. At least there is a kennel with free space down the road. Thus how he's got a giant egg shaped thing, parked in front of his shop, with a sticky note on its crisp shell going 'payment forthcoming, enjoy your charm'. And its blinking at him through a gap in the shell he'd not seen before. 1
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Post by Kristofor on May 9, 2024 4:10:57 GMT -6
'I think I just got scammed.' he thinks to himself, walking around the egg once to see if theres anything else he can see. The big brown eyes follow him with interest, small scrapings around the shell like its shuffling to keep him in sight. 'No. I definitely got scammed.' What creature, freshly hatching, even is this. "Hooo, thats an alurook egg friendo." His ears cant around before Kristofor turns his body to see the speaker. A calico cat person. Bright green eyes, almost lime, gleaming with interest. "Giant rideable owls, once grown up. And if that eye color is what I believe it is... you did not just get scammed." His silence prompts them to continue. "Being more specific, alurook aren't lucky, but this one has a resistance to most magical sources, so if you ever wanted to teach it to fight, it could go against one of those spell slinging dragons with a bit of confidence. Also can come in handy because I need something done and it requires dealing with that magical mansion on the edge of town." Those brown eeys on the fox narrow in distrust. "Ey ey ey, this'll be worth your while, and that egg isn't gonna want to hatch out here; its too public." They produce the orb, tell him about it, and dance around the subject on what it does. "You'll want to do this fox. Believe me, especially with something like this one." Gesturing their head at the curiously blinking now known as n owlet. But something in his gut tells him he still got scammed. 2
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Post by Kristofor on May 9, 2024 4:18:29 GMT -6
It was enough of a surprise ot learn that Suffolk would be so big when he grew up, and his antlers are still growing in. The owlet's EGG is as tall as Sirius. He'd need Oogwai's cart to tow the thing around until it could walk and follow him around on its own. Only having one bird for this long (Cabernet) and he's unsure, as he did not hatch Cabernet, how to actually get the owlet out of the egg. The cat assured him that the owlet 'knew what it was doing' and would get itself out in time. Sort of like those dragons of myth that only hatched for their bonded humanoid. Sure. The orb is left on his desk. Well, he wasn't going to get any groomign done while on this job so he'd start it tomorrow. Getting two more small jobs done (shedding orbaru) and a few coins in his purse, Kristofor had towed the egg indoors so it got out of any more potential downpours, making sure his animals were fed, he had supplies in order (because mansion trips aren't short) and what not. The occasional crunching of shell he could hear as he's moving around. By morning, the "owlet" had worked its way around the shell, wearing the top like a little helm, bent partially to ingest the shell as it hatched itself out. Well, that solved one question. Except for one issue; The egg is massively larger then what he's actually seeing. And he's hearing pipping peeping sounds that don't sound 'hooty'. HMMMM. 3
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Post by Kristofor on May 15, 2024 3:07:33 GMT -6
It amuses him briefly to see the frankly very BIG baby bird with the eggshell crowning their head. It doesn't quite fit, shifting around as it shuffles, eating the prison away far enough to start breaking out with little kicks or shuffles. Like one of those stories from cubhood, with heroes wearing armor and helmets. CRUNCH The eggshell wall breaks down and the baby owl, taken by surprise, stumbles forward. He steps forward, catching it from falling on its face. The sticky fuzz is thick, like cub fuzz when just a few weeks old. And... once it steps onto his hands... something clicks. He has indeed a bird in his hands, but its the size of Cabernet, still wearing the massive eggshell like a hat. And something is deflating inside of the egg. Like a sac of air? What the... Pippeep! Pippeep! The eggshell is tossed back off as the baby bird frees itself fully. A... fuzzball indeed, and its mostly head, with a tail and massive feet. ...what the beanex is this creature. Its no owl. 4
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Post by Kristofor on May 15, 2024 3:16:21 GMT -6
To make matters worse, the two patrons to his shop in just the last hour he couldn't recall any specific features of their faces or a given name. What pet was he even just grooming? He had to check the calendar to make sure it was still Wednesday; because his spatial time recognition felt warped even. Yes, still Wednesday. Of course, he'd been scammed; Pippeep? The baby bird blinks big golden brown eyes at him as it shuffles around on his padded hands to look him in the eye. Pippeep? With the rapidly fluffing fuzz, its an auburn color with a few pink feathers poking out near the eye socket. Was it sick? Carefully, the fox, his pride tarnished, let the baby bird stumble off his hands onto the desk to fish out a piece of paper and his ink quill. Drafting a notice, with a bubble of rare anger in his stomach, "Credits only, payment due upon completion of work" to tape onto the countertop. Mmreeeh. The baby bird looks from him to the paper, hissing at it. Angry paper! Angry! 5
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Post by Kristofor on May 15, 2024 3:27:14 GMT -6
'My thought exactly. Angry paper.' A drop of amusement to the small fuzzy bird's reaction to the paper as he caps the quill to put away his writing supplies alongside the dossier for the shop. The bird watches him put the items out of sight, tilting its head almost sideways to try to see but doesn't get near the edge of the desk, looking back at him. Pipeep? "I suppose you need something to eat before I depart." 'eat' must be a universal term in animal language because the baby bobs its fuzzy head rapidly, opening a thick beak he might see eating seeds, but it is as big as Cabernet, and the fish-eating picky 'fossil bird' is several months old, at birth. What would it eat... Offering his hand out, the baby looks at the padded paw, back at him, but steps on without much issue as he shepherds it on from behind. The last thing he wants is to have it go splat while looking for food upstairs. Placing the small bird on the cart, he darts off upstairs to grab a variety of foods before coming back down. 6
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Post by Kristofor on May 15, 2024 7:58:34 GMT -6
The fox has a variety of foods for the chick...baby bird...hatchling...whatever to try for taste as he carefully shuts the trapdoor to keep the hounds out of the groomery while he's out in the mansion. Which he'll go to, he will at least see if its worth his time, or if its another scam. The orb weighs on his mind, and the new bird is inspecting itself in its reflection once he gets into viewpoint of it. Practically beak to beak with it as it sees itself. Which to Kristofor isn't too exciting; theres a tufty tail waving around the back half of the fuzz and what looks like two thicker...things held tight against its head. ""Time to eat"" he speaks. Peep? Pipippipeep! Distracted by the sound of returning with food, the creature is bouncing up and down on its giant feet as he deposits a pile of foods to try. Some fruit, a few vegetables, a piece of murp jerky that he tried to cut as small as possible. 7
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Post by Kristofor on May 15, 2024 12:13:53 GMT -6
Since the baby bird isn't nearly the size he had expected, the cart can just stay home, suppose. The fox fashions himself a towel sling to carry the baby bird along against his body for shared warmth. Because babies are usually completely defenseless, right? It may be his imagination or the ripe peach he'd included in the assortment of foods to try, but a faint peach scent lingers around the baby while it tucks into all the different types of food. Everything, except he has to interfere to stop it from swallowing the peach pit. No no, thats a bad food part. That's stowed to throw out into the garden in a vest pocket. Peepeep! The baby protests him stealing the food but he doesn't listen. Scooping it, and its heavier now then was five minutes ago, into the sling. Suddenly dark, warm and full... the protesting peeps settle slowly until it just snuggles into the thick fur that pokes between the open folds of the towel. With the orb, he tosses the peach pit over a shoulder into the garden next to the shop and sets out to the mansion. What month was it anyways, didn't it change every now and then? 8
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Post by Kristofor on May 17, 2024 4:11:33 GMT -6
Thankfully, he does notice a calendar attached to the questboard while passing through, and doing the absolute briefest glanceover the 'help wanted' signs. Well, there is a notice asking for information about a 'tabaxi' whatever that was, and a bunch of 'glasses' but he doesn't believe the orb he carries is the same. But it is May. So... Rifling around in his satchel, the one he carries everywhere, he finds his notebook. One he puts down information for. Huh. He's never been to the mansion in May. So it would be a ne experience. Long as it wasn't one that was out for his blood; it seems the last few times he's gone to the mansion, he ended up ill or nearly dead from outside sources. So why was he doing this? well, he did need something to do; and the sky above him is starting to cloud up. Down the street, through the gateway, he walks fast because he does NOT like getting wet, and the baby bird would freeze if sodden. 9
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Post by Kristofor on May 17, 2024 4:18:18 GMT -6
Has the house ever 'looked' normal on the outside before in the daytime? Because he almost believes he'd walked into the wrong open gated yard. Big multistory home, large windows, many many windows. Big door, a manicured yard. It feels suspiciously normal. His animalfolk instincts prickle...like he'd stepped into the territory of something that finds him unwelcome. Pipeep! Peep! Shrugging its head through the folds on his sling, the baby bird blinks owlishly up at him with curiosity. Peep? Wonder. Looking out on the new world around it. Where? [New space. New.] he grumbles audibly in his native tongue. The first time it may have heard him speak natively. Those big eyes look up at him with interest. If it were a bit bigger, then it may be okay to let it run around and spend some energy. With feet that big, the baby bird may grow up quite tall, but he's still unsure on its actual species. 10
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Post by Kristofor on May 17, 2024 4:29:26 GMT -6
His ears do the satellite thing while standing there, as he physically turns around slowly, taking in the suspiciously normal surroundings. Something does catch his eye; its a plate on the gate thats wide open. Aha. Information. For the most part, he does understand it; yes the mansion is dangerous; that he's aware of. There's some 'interesting' people who live here. Or work here. But monthly distortion? This is what he needed. May...May...ah. Month of Dreaming. Dedicated to The Binder, most of the distortions are inside for this month, and its very 'dragon' themed. Like how. So going inside would be the way to fill this orb? His ave companion blinks owlishly at the big flat thing fox looks at. What it. What it say. Pip. Pipeep? There's a questioning tone to its chirps and peeps. 'It says Bad place. Eats baby birds who run away.' now this is a complete fib but the baby bird is hooked on his sounds right now. A chill wind ruffles his fur while reading the sign, and a 'slurping' sound, very close by. 11
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Post by Kristofor on May 17, 2024 4:36:09 GMT -6
A leaf crunches under his shoe. But its not the crunch you hear in fall. This is a... dead. burnt. crunch. Looking down, the leaves have taken a very dead and crunchy appearance, like right before winter's frost. Like the life just got sapped out. A cold drop splashes down into his mind's eye. Ears turning to radar, his eyes glance back and forth at the darkness pressing around him suddenly. Something is making leaves crunch right outside his line of sight and the night vision he has some of isn't reacting. Foxes, silver foxes, are diurnal. They (like baby birds) like sleeping at night. Air chills around him, and he turns around. The yard is no longer the prim proper area he'd walked into, but...dead. The tree near the entrance is dropping its leaves as they curl and twist up, falling freely to the ground. Baby birds don't have a lot of sounds he's heard so far, so a panicked PEEP! and it ducks into his sling. 12
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Post by Kristofor on May 17, 2024 4:44:00 GMT -6
There's words on the wind. Angry, no esasperated words. Something about just trimming the verge? Squinting into the sudden nightfall, Kristofor doesn't move a muscle, tensed up in case he needs to run. Or attack. "Can't believe that stupid cat is making someone bring those damn things here" or something like that? More crunching, before a familiar light topping of hair comes out of the gloom. "Well, fancy running into you here." Wasn't he...a repointe handler for the master here? "Judgin' by your expression, you weren't given much information 'why' you're here. because Thats not a look of a scavenger here on a pleasure stroll." Although he forgot his name, Kristofor nods a greeting as his tense body relaxes some. Putting his hand into the sling, he brings out the orb...and its slightly fogged on the bottom, whereas when he recieved it, it was clear as a glass ball could be. His expression pinches in confusion; and theres slight scratches on the orb from baby bird claws and beak exploration. Who pokes their head out wiht a peep. 13
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Post by Kristofor on May 17, 2024 4:48:58 GMT -6
With a few sentences, the handler, who feels very familiar to him, explains that he had been likely approached by a cat who asked him to carry that orb around here. Here specifically. "See that foggy look? Looks like the glass is frosting over, yeah? Like finding smooth glass in the sand at the ocean." 'River glass?' He's not heard of an ocean anywhere near. 'Humans litter the river occasionally and the glasses we find are slightly smoothed by the gravel.' "More so." they produce a small chunk of light blue glass, sort of the shape of a moon. "Its a good shape for my hand; humans call them worry stones. If you rub it while being nervous, it helps calm you down." Taking the small piece, the fox angles it upwards. It does look foggy, yes, then passes it back with a nod. "So imagine that look, on that orb." The little hatchling isn't prepared for the sudden darkness. It had just hatched darn it. It was dark in the egg! 14
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