Give Em the Bird

Log Info

• Title: Give Em the Bird
• Emitter: Slixvah
• Characters: Slixvah, Magpie, Dolan, Telamon, Ravenstongue, Geir
• Place: Soldier's Defense
• Time: March 6th. 2022
• Summary: There's a new patient at the Defense, an Elagrin woman with a broken wing. It's set by the aides as well as a nearby Daeusite, ceasing her chipper attitude about everything for a beat as the others, Magpie and Telamon, cringe from the action. They get around to greeting each other and share some stories. Ravenstongue and Geir swing by, the latter injured form a recent outing. Learning more about one another, Magpie rushes out to find some sweet rolls, and Dolan chases after her to ensure she gets where she needs to.

Soldier's Defense, Noon

It's a slow day at the Defense. Which, in all honesty, is a pleasant thing. The sun shining today is warm unlike the past few weeks, it slowly banishing the chill that the shade brings.

Though, the Hearthguards tending to what patients were inside suddenly perk up as a stretcher is brought in. A pair of the Watch holding aloft a rusty red and white Eglarin covered in various textiles and ribbons.

"Oh, honey, you didn't need to bring lil' ol' Slix all the way here, it's just a boo boo," the feathered one chirps, lightly protesting as she mask the pain in her tone.

The Watch guard deadpans, "Ma'am. Your wing is broken."

It's true, the woman's right wing was twisted at an odd angle.

She's transferred to a cot and propped, her holding onto her side. "It's none too big of a deal, sweetie, wings grow back!"

No they don't.

Hospitals. Brrr.

To Magpie, hospitals are the third worst building to occupy at any given moment. Something about the general get-wellishness of a hospital's decor, contrasted with the number of people who are, indeed, *not* getting particularly well, is like sand rubbed on her nerves. But, the College needed a dogsbody to ferry supplies to the Defense, and while Magpie doesn't particularly like hospitals, she likes having an apartment and access to the library. Apparently, the latter can be contingent on the former, so here she is!

And is on a rather hurried way out, when the Egalrin's outlandish clothing is caught at the corner of her eye. Ever one to appreciate a good motley, the young gnome edges closer, large eyes enlarging further upon seeing the twisted wing. "Yo, uh... I'd listen to them, that thing looks like it's about to fall off."

GAME: Telamon accepts a meet and will arrive momentarily.

Telamon has arrived.

Dolan, on the other hand, is no stranger to the Soldier's Defense, whether he likes it or not. Divested of armor and weapons, he is much less colorful than the other two, although in deference to the weather warming up, he's donned a pale green shirt beneath trousers and leather jerkin, Daeus' sunburst hanging plainly over the jerkin and open collar. Much brighter green is the gem in a steel-and-bronze ring where his right eye should be, and it surveys the small group when he pauses on his way past the door. "Need a hand?" he calls to the healers within. Big, strapping people are occasionally useful when dealing with broken bones, and he's certainly that.

Down the street a slim figure can be seen, dressed in a cloak over a ruffled white long-sleeved blouse, black trousers tucked into boots and a broad leather belt. Dapper and (apparently) unruffled -- for the moment anyways -- Telamon walks with a steady pace towards the Soldier's Defense, carrying a oilcloth bundle tucked into his leather satchel. Whistling tunelessly, but cheerfully, as he surmounts the stairs and steps inside, to see...

Huh. There's something you don't see every day. Egalrin are usually more careful with their wings. But, it seems the attendants have things somewhat in hand, and so he remains quiet for the moment, dark eyes glinting.

The Watch disperses as they've dropped off the Eglarin, the Althean healers taking their place.

The feathered one looks down to whoever was suggesting they listen to reason. Blue eyes widen, and a hand pulls the veil down off their beak. "Oh heavens! I absolutely adore your get-up, darling," she chirps, wincing at a bit as the twisted wing moves. "Ah, yes. I suppose there's no denying that!"

One of the aides rubs their face and glances towards Dolan. "Yep, if you don't mind. This one might be a little..." They rub their face. "... crunchy."

"Of course you do!" the gnome says, beaming. Finally, someone with taste in clothing! "But yeah, uh... *crunchy* looks like the word to use, um... What the hells *happened* anyway? Looks like someone ran over you!"

Hospitals bad, *injuries* bad, but a good story and clashing colors can make up for a multitude of sins. Just... so long as she doesn't look up at the wing too often...

The taller voice behind Magpie catches her attention, and she looks back, then does a double-take at the cleric's eye. "Oh, nice! What kinda stone is that in your eye? I mean I guess it's an emerald, but there's enough green gems I could be way off, there."

Coming to Alexandria was *definitely* the right move. So much to see!

Dolan doesn't hesitate, turning his course to stride into the room with the group and grinning down at the gnome admiring the injured egalrin's clothing. "Yeah, that looks pretty nasty," he agrees. "You know, I'm not even sure. It didn't cost enough, so probably not." The truth is that the stone is an adornment surrounded by twisted and scarred flesh across the right side of his face. The stone might be pretty, but the rest of that side of his face is anything but. The other side isn't that bad, though, and the grin he'd flashed at her had its share of sass.

"I'm no healer, probably best if I just hold her down?" he asks the aide, moving to Slixvah's side and around the gnome. "You might want to step back a little, she'll probably try to smack me."

"I suppose it depends on how badly he wants it appraised," Telamon says dryly at the commentary on Dolan's eyepiece. He seems perfectly content to let the attendants and nurses tend to the injured egalrin -- no point in getting in the way. Though his eyes widen a touch at the extent of Slixvah's injury. "That -has- to hurt," he remarks. He slides the oilcloth bundle out of his satchel, but it seems everyone's a bit busy, so he's content to wait.

When a harried attendant does ask him his business, he smiles. "Telamon Atlon, here to drop off some records and documents?" The attendant scurries off to find someone who's actually (a) able to sign for things, and (b) not busy. As Tel watches the fellow rush off, he muses, "I may be here for a bit..."

"Oh it was the most delightful of stories, sugar," the winged woman hums. She glances to Dolan approaching, and a light sigh leaves her. "And I'd be delighted to share it once this strong man gives lil' Slix a hand."

She shakes her head. "I wouldn't want to strike you, dearie, that'd be most rude of me! Barely even beat a wing here and the last thing I'd want to do is leave a dour impression!"

The aide nods sagely to Dolan. "Hold the base of the wing and her down here and here," the Althean directs, and the patient makes no fuss.

The injured woman spies Telamon, her eyes sparkle in a smile, and she coos, "Oh honey, you wouldn't believe how much it hurts right now!" She grits her beak.

And Magpie steps aside, more than happy to be out of Dolan's way; tiny, noodly arms don't much help moving the injured. "You got my attention, definitely!" she says, bobbing her head at the promise of stories.

And indeed, her attention is got... right up until the new presence speaks up, and then her attention is elsewhere, sizing up *yet another* tall's choice in fashion. Which, given the raised eyebrow and satisfied nod, does seem to pass muster.

Indeed, it seems that Dolan is the plainest one here, but he merely turns that cheeky grin on Slixvah. "Just you wait until he starts fixing that wing, then we'll see what happens." _Uh-huh._ He moves to place his hands where indicated, using his body weight to pin her firmly to the cot while allowing the aides to work. "I'd like to hear that story too," he goes on with a note of sympathy in his tone. "Your wing is pretty messed up, my friend."

Intent as he is on his instructions, he hasn't looked at the other two yet, although he does return to Telamon, "It's a good bit more valuable to me than the cost of the gem, I'll have you know."

Telamon radiates a kind of easy charm, his smile infectious as he looks at Magpie and Dolan in turn. "Never said it wasn't. Magic and artifice can do some marvelous things these days. The benefits of a modern society, I suppose." He unfolds his arms, watching with interest as the attendants and helpers carefully restrain Slixvah. "Hang in there," he says to her. "It's not going to be fun, but you'll endure this."

Still, his fingers absently twitch a little, as if mentally reviewing what options he might have if things go sideways.

The Egalrin was properly held down, the aides were prepped, and still the woman chatting away. "Oh trust me dearies, you get used to a broken bone or three when you live in the mountains! And-" Dolan grows close, and she blinks. "My my, that /is/ quite the wonderful little green gem you have there! It's such a lovely sha-"

"Aaand now."

Shove. Crunch.

Slix squawks in pain, her nervous chattering ceased as a knee comes up to thud against Dolan's side out of reflex.

At least the wing was put back into place, and the aids were binding it to keep it there. It takes Slix a moment to get her voice back as she pants through her nose. "....... ow," she chitters.

Don't throw up don't throw up don't throw up also never eat celery again...

It takes a moment for Magpie to stop trying to wince her face off at the sound of the bone being reset, and the pained shriek that follows. Once the noises subside, the gnome begins to lower her hands from over her eyes, just enough to peek through parted fingers, as the medics do their work.

"... ..... ....... ..... ...Y'okay now, miss?"

Dolan thought he had been expecting that, but there's never any expecting exactly which direction the strike will come from, when the strike is born of pure reflex. Muscles bulge, and he pins her firmly even when she kicks him, although he does let out an "Ow!" when her knee connects firmly. He does not move until told to by the aides, grimacing with effort.

Telamon does flinch at that crunch. It would take a heart of stone or a soul more inured to suffering to not do so. And reflexively, he reaches a hand out, though he drops it after a moment. "That... probably felt about as bad as it sounded, miss." He shudders a little, before regaining his composure.

Looking to Magpie, he notes her appalled expression, and leans over to murmur to the gnome, "Sometimes it happens. Deep breaths. If you need a drink, say something. I'm pretty sure they've seen a lot worse here."

After getting the wing put together for the most part, one aide pats Dolan on the shoulder to tag him out. "Appreciated greatly," the Althean offers, looking a bit apologetic at the man having to take a hit for him.

Slix is a bit out of it for a moment; if she could be pale, she would, as her gaze is entirely unfocused.

A few moments later, as the pain goes to a dull throb, and her breathing evens out. She weakly croaks out, "... Ah... p... pardon my Khazdul loves, but "fookin' shite tha' 'urt!" <Khazdul>

She leans her head against the wall behind her, panting shallow breaths. "... sorry sweetie, didn't mean to do that," she offers to Dolan.

"No no," Magpie says, coughing once. "Wasn't my wing, so... yeah... I'm good, I think. Thanks, though." Giving herself a shake, she raises her eyebrows at Slix's swearing. "I mean... speaking as someone who broke a leg falling off a tower, that was practically restrained."

The gnome trails off, realizing the non sequitur would probably result in her having to tell an embarrassing story, she elects to head it off with "...It was in school. On a dare. Anyway..."

Telamon quips, "I find oruch to be a extremely satisfying language to swear in, myself. Khazdul's not bad, but it's a little too... precise, I guess? To really vent your innards." He gives Magpie another broad smile. "We all do foolish things when we're younger."

His gaze shifts to Dolan and Slixvah. "I'm not going to ask something stupid like 'are you all right?', but hopefully you'll be able to heal now."

From the grimace that Dolan wears, he wasn't immune to the crunch either, but he stands up, carefully and experimentally. "Glad to help, better she kick me than you." Gentle fingers palpate his side, but he backs away a pace or so, letting the healers in to finish up. "Draconic is a good language to swear in, too. Never learned oruch."

He backs away another pace and leans against the wall, crossing his arms. "So it sounds like some of you have some pretty good stories to share." That's an invitation.

Slix shakes her head, flinching some as her wing is further bound, and most of the aides leave to acquire various herbs and medicines, leaving one to finish up. "Thank you dearies," she weakly hums to them.

With a sigh, she looks to Telamon. "Though I could do such a thing, sugar, I find that tongue's swears a bit to rash for my feathers. I'll save that color for someone else to say!" she chirps. "Though yes. And in my home, quite a number of youngins jump off the most silliest of things just to prove their wings were strong enough!"

She taps the side of her beak. "Of course, /I/ never did such a thing!" The bird woman winks.

The invitation was picked up and opened, Slix softly sighing and rubbing the side of her face. "Ah yes, the delightful story. Well loves, myself and a lovely friend were on a long walk! So cold from the north! I crossed the border into Alexandros, and wouldn't you know, the most lovely motley crew of folks greeted me!"

She squint a bit. "They weren't very kind! Most had some little sword issues and didn't like the fact I had nothing, so they tried to hurt lil' ol' Slix. Slix is a lucky one! Only got my wing broken getting out of there, and some roaming soldiers found me! Couldn't do any first aid on me, my wings were too pretty for them to mess up, so they sent me here!"

Her good wing unfurls slightly and wafts, a menagerie of ribbons tied to it flutters from the motion.

"I wonder if that poor darling is still trying to get his sword unstuck..."

"So... bandits, then," Magpie answers, brows furrowing. "Well at least you're mostly okay? But uh... how's your friend?"

Looking up, up, back and forth between all the tall people, the gnome sighs, and totters off for a moment. When she reappears, she's shoving a chair ahead of her, pushing it back near her place around Slix's bed. Muttering dire imprecations against a world built for tall people, she clambers into the chair, and stands again, clearly happier to be closer to eye-level with the rest of the crowd.

"Sorry about that... Anyway, your friend's okay?"

Telamon listens thoughtfully, and smiles. "We all have a tale or two to tell, it seems. Though it appears some stout lads and lasses need to sweep the environs again, if the local bandits are getting too big for their britches."

He looks pensive, then grins slightly. "Well, not long after I first came here, I was asked to accompany a few adventurers to investigate a strange, prowling creature. They thought it was some horrid undead, but it turned out to be... well, a rather pathetic form of golem, crafted by a madman. We put the creator down, and the golem went to the Society to... well, give it some peace, poor thing."

He rubs his chin. "There's a couple lessons there. Aside from 'don't play with dead things', also carrying compassion is never a bad idea."

"It sure sounds that way," Dolan nods his agreement with Telamon, still leaning against the wall with his eyes anywhere but the healers working. Yes, that is not a fun thing to watch, usually. "Yeah, that sounds nasty. I'm glad you're all right." When Magpie returns with the chair, he straightens and looks like he's about to offer to help with the chair, but she seems to have it, and so he leans back against the wall again.

Telamon's story gets his attention in more detail. "Ugh, that's a nasty piece of work. Seems like people around here deal with more than their fair share of that kind of thing. Never did like the idea of crafting things like that with magic, it always seemed creepy to me. I guess when you get a lot of wizards in one place-"

"--You get a flying city with pocket-dimension apartments and terrible walkability," the gnome interjects. "Sorry, uh, hi. Magpie, mostly from Rune."

The winged woman waves a dismissive hand at the gnome's apologies. "No worries sweetie," she weakly coos.

She politely folds her hands on her lap as the aide checks her over, listening to the story with gentle attention. She's given some medicine, and one aide remains to jot down some notes about the eagle woman.

A sigh leaves her. "Poor thing indeed, sorry it panned out like that, buttercup. Least now things are better well now yes?"

She blinks. "My friend? Oh! Yes, they're fine! Fiadh? Cutie, where are you..-?"

Some rustling comes from one of the many folds of her outrageous attire. The injured woman glances to Magpie, and she chuckle warmly. "Oh, that's rich, hon. Lovely name. Slixvah Unmesi, though you can call me Slix, rolls off the beak all easy-like."

She looks back down to her robes. "Oh come on Fiadh, you can get out of there, stop being coy."

Telamon lifts one eyebrow. "Familiar?" he guesses with a sly grin. "Let's just say I know a bit about those." He makes a short bow. "I had introduced myself to the nurse, but you may have been a little distracted. Telamon Atlon at your service."

He nods to Dolan. "Although I think having more magicians in proximity might act as a restraint, rather than spurring them on. It seems social contact blunts the worst of the foolishness lone spell-weavers get up to, locked in their towers. Oh, you get the occasional teleporting goat or shapeshifting dog, but those are usually accidents, not intent -- and the cleanup is a lot easier."

His eyes light up a bit at Magpie. "From Rune? Splendid! I'm not from there -- I'm from Ylvaliel in the Mythwood -- but my fiancee hails from Rune originally."

Dolan listens to the rest of the introductions, then adds his own. "I'm Dolan. From the farmlands up north in Alexandros." He's been watching with interest as Slix goes fishing around for her familiar, but when Telamon mentions a fiancee, he looks up and at the taller man. "That must be interesting. I always found that wizards in social contact give each other ideas." He tilts his head, though, clearly considering that. "I suppose it's true, though, that thy'd restrain each other. They spend more time arguing."

"Restr-- pfffffff!" The little gnome seems in danger of falling off her perch, amid spirals of laughter brought on by Telamon's supposition. "Yo you *definitely* need to visit Rune, and, like... never go within five hundred feet of Hermit Ward. *Every house* has a tower there, with a batty old nut locked inside it. The houses are just for the people who remember to cook and clear *for* them! They got portals to the College, they figure that's all they need! Restraint, hee... this guy!"

Wiping a tear from her cheek, the gnome plops down on the chair, idly drumming a patternless beat onto the arms, and nods in Dolan's direction. "Yeah Dolan's got a better idea on it. I mean, there's laws against, like, fireballing your debate partner -- but some people are obnoxious enough it gets broken anyway -- But far's I've seen, the only thing socializing does for wizards is give them something to one-up."

Eventually, emerging from one of the shawls (a purple one!) emerges a small, palm sized bird with a white plume and golden eyes. It chirps twice in greeting as it nestles in on Slix's lap. "Ah, there you are, sweet pea," she grins, gently petting the bird with a finger. A blue eye glances to Telamon, and she winks. "Something of the sort, sugar."

"Nice to meet all of you. I find this welcome party far more kind than what I first ran into. So I'll count this one as my first impression of the pla-"

Magpie breaks into laughter, and she can't help but chuckle from it. "Never flew down into Rune myself, though I could have, being from the Sky Curtains and all. Looked pretty from afar, I'll say."

Telamon looks mildly annoyed, and points out, "Yes, but they're not locked into their towers -here-, which might explain why the Society here hasn't spontaneously launched for the moon like the Parliament of Magi in Rune threatens to do every other week." He looks wry. "Which is not to say there aren't other inconveniences. You haven't lived till you've seen two archmages agree to 'settle their hash' in an antimagic field, and proceed to punch the hells out of each other. The students even bet on the outcomes."

He actually smiles at the shy little bird, and nods to Slixvah. "Oh, there's a pretty one. What's his -- or her -- name?"

Something about the exchange invites Dolan to laugh along with the others, and he does, for laughter is an infectious thing. "Nice to meet you all, too. I guess that's good for the rest of the city, because otherwise they'd be cleaning up the city on a weekly basis. Bad enough what some of the people in the Explorer's Guild do, if the archmages went at it with magic-" He trails off, his attention taken by the bird as well. "Wow. Is it friendly?"

"Oh that is a *cutie* you have there!" Magpie gasps, perking upright on her seat at the sight of the 'friend.' "Guess I oughta keep some seed on hand, cos I *definitely* want to be on that beauty's good side! And yeah, Rune looks *beautiful* from a distance! But like, it's got blind spots you could roll a wagon through. If you don't got big magic, it *really* isn't built for you, unless you're friendly with Student Services, and even then it's responsibility, funding issues, uuuuuuuugh. It's Dad's home, but frankly I'm *happy* to be shot of the place. At least here all I have to complain about is stairs! (Seriously, people, ramps are literally the wave of the future.)"

Shaking herself out of her diatribe, the gnome nods at Telamon. "Can confirm. Dad got me tickets to one, it looked like a couple scarecrows made out of cooked noodles in bathrobes, flailing at each other. It's why no one *ever* argues with the Proctor of Transmutation, he's built like a brick Jotun shi-- Um. Like a really thick person. Yeah. Anyway. Welcome to Alexandria, Slixvah! And I guess me too, I only got in a couple days ago!"

The compliments make the little white thrush puff its feathers out in pride.

"Fiadh," Slix answers, using a single finger to stroke their head. "She's an absolute sugar pea."

As if to answer Dolan's question, Fiadh bounces down Slix's lap and hops up on her foot, glides over to the post of the cot, and chitters softly while looking at up the human and gnome both, bobbing up and now.

"An absolute honey bun," Slix beams, though its muted by the dull pain in her wing. "She'd love that."

The mention of mages duking it out makes Slix tilt her head to the side curiously. "I would pay to see that. Shame I might not here! Oh well. And thank you, dearie," she coos to Magpie. "At least I won't feel like the lone one trying to figure out the place!"

At the mention of the transmutation proctor, Telamon nods. "Oh, yes. I met him once. I believe I'd rather try to pick a fight with Aryia. It'd be less painful and she might go easy on me. Maybe."

His gaze slides over the small thrush, and he smiles at it. "Food does seem to be a common way to make friends with familiars and companions. That was how I met Cor'lana; Pothy decided to, ah, 'hit me up' over the sweetroll I had bought." He actually blushes a little, but laughs softly. "It was worth it."

Whatever Telamon said, Dolan's grin broadens, and he laughs again. "Sounds like a bad idea all the way around." He finally straightens as the bird hops over to the bedpost, and holds out a flat, callused hand towards the bird. _Question answered._ "I guess any animal is like that, the way to their heart is through their stomach, right?"

He turns his head away from the bird and to Telamon, though. "What size animal steals a whole sweetroll? If it's the vendor I'm thinking about in the Market District, those are as big as two fists together, and absolutely amazing."

Geir has arrived.

Ravenstongue has arrived.

"Hel*lo,* Fiadh!" Magpie croons, grinning widely. "I hope your person doesn't give you too much trouble?" She looks up, chuckling to the less-arcane people in the crowd. "If she's anything like most familiars I've known, she's the brains of the operation. But, treats are treats!"

And speaking of treats, the gnome perks as Dolan's description sinks into her head. "Wait. Sweetrolls? The size of *your* fists?" Green eyes go wide, and she starts rocking from side to side in the chair. "I'm gonna... have to check that out... sometime. Some other time. Because it would *definitely* be rude to run out of here and divebomb a baker's cart."

And as the calloused palm extends, the equally sized bird does a single 'hop!' and plops herself into its new nest and it takes a seat and chirps once in approval as it watches Dolan with their gold eyes. They look to Magpie, and chirp twice, moving about the palm to face them.

"Oh goodness me, what kind of lil' critter can do such a thing! Fi likes food, but she's not going to snatch it from you."

Slix sits upright a bit more as the aide exits to let the Elagrin rest, and get to know such interesting company. She doesn't add much at present, her just idly swaying on her cot as the ribbons and veils silently swing in tandem with her.

Speak of the devil and he will appear.

Except the devil has taken on a different form today. He rides as a white raven with blue eyes on the shoulder of a short half-elf woman, her long black hair cascading down to her waist in gentle waves today rather than its usual braid. The circular glasses on her face give her an air of intelligence that is somewhat countered by her expression of slight exasperation, violet eyes trained on her familiar. "Pothy, you can't just beg for every treat I buy," she says. "Just because Boti's not at the Defense anymore is no reason to stop dropping off cakes for the nice people who work here."

"Snacks," Pothy complains as the duo stride into the waiting room. But then he spots Telamon and soars immediately from one shoulder to the other, ducking his pale head into Telamon's almost-as-pale tresses in an affectionate manner--

"Snacks," Pothy whispers into Telamon's ear. So much for affection.

"Oh, hi love!" the new half-elf greets as she strides up to Telamon, cake box in hand. Ravenstongue gives him a peck on the cheek, her violet eyes sparkling. "I didn't know you'd be here." <Sylvan>

Telamon is about to respond, and then he hears the voice and he immediately turns to greet Raven. "I was dropping off some paperwork. Copies of my writings on dream-walks. The temple figured they might be useful here as well." He grins, letting Pothy nuzzle at him, before sweeping Raven into his arms in an embrace.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my fiancee, Cor'lana Lupe'cyll," he introduces her. "I was just regaling them with the story of how we met, when Pothy decided I should give up some of the sweetroll I'd purchased on the way to the Society."

The Sith slowly plods by the door, clad in heavy armor. Several fresh dents are evident on his side, and rivulets of blood leaks from a particularly nasty gash in his shoulder.

Over his other shoulder is a person who seems much more worse for wear. Their armor, leathers from head to toe, is torn in several locations. Blood drips freely, despite several attempts at bandaging.

A few moments after he passes by the door, a doctor hurries by at a much faster pace. "What the hell happened to you?", one of the two yell. "Sspell.", is the grey-clad Sith's reply. "Nesst of clerics. Nothing poisonous or disease, just sslashes. Do not bother with my woundss. Deal with his, pleasse."

The sound of armor clinking begins anew.

And Magpie extends a hand toward Fiadh, crooking a finger as if to give scratches to a head not yet under her hand. "Hey little sweetling~! Oh aren't you just the most adorable thing I've seen all week!" Eyes flick to Fiadh, then Slix, then the rest. "...And I gotta go I *need* a sweetroll I can't just pass that up. I BLAME YOU, DOLAN."

As Ravenstongue and Geir enter the hospital, the blonde gnome is already scrambling down from the chair. "Hi new people sorry can't stay gotta get food hope you get better quick Slix good to meet you all gotta go LATER!"

Novice arcanist as she may be, Magpie yet does a credible job of *faking* teleportation where food is concerned, it seems.

Seeing the injured and bleeding here is hardly an unusual occurrence, and Dolan barely flicks an eyelash just outside their room, a fascinated smile broadening to the edge of the scars. "She is beautiful."

And then the gnome bolts for the door, and he sighs." Offering the hand back to the post of the bed so that the bird can hop down. "I'd better go after her. She'll never find it if she doesn't know what she's looking for."

"It's a pleasure to meet the both of -"

He spotted Pothy, and understanding dawns across the twisted features. _That_ is what stole the sweetroll. "Both of you. I would love to chat more, but she is likely to get lost. I will be back. I hope you feel better."

And with that, he strides out after her, breaking into a run to keep up.

As Cor'lana enters the room, there's yet another white feathered figure in the palm of Dolan's hand. It's a little thrush with gold eyes. And it enjoys the attention from Magpie greatly. It chirps thrice, ruffles their wings, and preens before heading back down to hop onto the bedpost.

"Oh heavens dear, the myths are true. With a raven of white and blue," an eagle woman chirps, with a smile to her eyes. She's sitting on a cot with one of her wings bound behind her.

Her attention flicks to the makari man as she's waving the two out, and her expression wanes. "... sweetheart, dearie, are you okay?" she calls out to the bleeding man, worried.

Telamon steps back as Geir staggers in, carrying another fellow. "The healers' work is never done," he remarks. He'd be concerned but Geir -is- in the right place, as he's swarmed by attendants and nurses.

"They've faced harder trials here, Lady Slixvah. They'll be mended... it may take time and patience but it will happen."

He looks to Raven, and grins. "So, what're you up to here, dearest one? Dropping off baked goods, you said? Or were your ears burning because I was talking about you?"

"Aww, Tel, you are sweet," Ravenstongue says with a blush before she looks at the crowd. "Please, just call me Raven, Cor'lana, or Lana. I am really not picky about what people call me--"

And then the two people she has only barely met have to dash out the door. Rather than be offended, however, the half-elf's eyes twinkle in delight as she giggles. "I see everything is still quite hustling and bustling around here. Yes, I came here to drop off a cake I bought. Sort of a tradition I started back when Boti lived here."

She leaves Telamon's embrace to find somewhere to drop off the cake with a receptionist, and that's when she notices the injured makari. Ravenstongue's features turn into a frown. "Oh! Oh my. Yes, are you okay?"

Pothy has little concern for injured people. Instead, he looks over at the little thrush with golden eyes and...

"Merp." It's a polite enough raven greeting.

A nurse rushes in to aid the doctor, and the two go about assessing the man in leather's damage while trying to undo the jigsaw puzzle that is now his armor.

Geir leans against the wall a moment, looking weary. He blinks a few times, and glances over at those expressing concern, as if noticing them for the first time. The copper-scale straightens, and tries to tidy their armor and tabard. Tsking at the blood, he shakes his head.

"This one is, well, will be fine. This one is more annoyed that his armor is dented and cleaved through, than pained. Even his weariness is greater than the sting of bloodsshed. Thank you, but the wounds are only temporary."

The thrush looks back at Pothy. It cocking their head one way. Then another. "Merp?" it tweets back.

The Elagrin, identified as Slixvah, gives a soft sigh and shakes her head. "And what a right little thorn that will be if you pass out before you can even pull your britches off, sugar," she lightly scolds with a chipper tune.

Telamon furrows his brow at Geir. "If I might ask, what happened? The lady here," he gestures to Slixvah, "said she was set upon by bandits. If there's a pattern it might be worth bringing it to the attention of the authorities and the Adventurer's Guild."

He chuckles at the much larger Pothy being politely interested. "Be nice, Pothy," he says gently. "You're a lot bigger, after all." He lets Raven drop the cake off, having finally gotten someone to sign for the papers he had carried as well. "Well, I think it's a good tradition. Something for the staff and patients to appreciate."

Pothy is being nice. He is a very polite bird. Which is why he fluffs up all of his feathers to look even bigger and says, "How you doin'?" in a bit of a city-slicker voice.

"Well, having used the Defense's services before," Ravenstongue says to the injured sith-makar, "you'll be taken care of very well here. They were able to patch up a nasty gash I got on the arm from a very rude soldier woman a while back." Even mentioning the incident makes her expression curdle like milk as she returns to Telamon's side.

Pothy returns to Ravenstongue's shoulder, giving Telamon's a bit of a break. While he's not terribly heavy as a familiar, having a raven constantly on one shoulder is something Ravenstongue is more used to--which is evident judging by her complete lack of a visible reaction to Pothy settling down on her partially exposed shoulder. "Bandits /would/ be a concern," Ravenstongue replies, her brows also furrowing. "Something Tel and I could likely handle together at this point. Maybe find one or two other people and off we go. We make a pretty good team."

One of Geir's browridges rises up in response to the Egalrin, "Erm. Pardon this one?" Looking slightly confused, he glances down at his armor-clad legs. "This one is wearing armor, not britches. This one is merely catching his breath, and is in little danger of passing out. Another spell can be managed." His head cants to the left, and then the right, as he regards Slixvah. "This one could inquire as to your injury?"

The copper-scale straightens slightly, and looks to Telamon. "This one was walking to Alexandria, when he heard the sound of fighting. The man over there was fighting three priests. Maugrim, if this one is correct about the colouring and implements. Moving to his aid, we cut down one, and the others chose to flee. One paused to utter a spell, and this one nearly lost his tail pulling the man from its effects."

Ravens' comment has him nodding. "Indeed, this one is well familiar, he volunteers his time here every other week. In the troubles of the plague, this one stood fast against a mob set on burning the Defense to the ground. With Sunblades and Hearthguards, and the city's finest, we manage to rout the crowd. This one is most proud as none were slain, and only a few suffered a few bumps and bruises."

The thrush tilts their head the other way one more time. There's a long pause, almost like they didn't hear him, but then, there's a soft, high toned chirp of a, "Good."

It flies back to Slix, and vanishes into one of the many sashes on her person. "Some ne'er-do-wells, dearie, on the border coming in. I'll be fine!"

The recounting of the tales make her good wing droop some, the ribbons attached to the getting coiled. "Oh my. That all sounds quite troubling, shug. I'm glad you came out of all that all peachy. Though, don't like seeing you stuck like one."

Telamon just chuckles at the interaction between Pothy and the thrush. "Huh. Pothy, were they impressed? Or no?" He reaches over to pet the raven, before nodding to Cor'lana. "There's always -someone- out there causing trouble. But yeah... I think we could handle it. I'd want to grab a couple more fellows, preferably big lads with axes or something. But we'd manage." He grins at her fondly.

Listening to Geir's tale, he scowls at the mention of Maugrim. "Figures," he grumbles. "But well done, sir. It's good to rout the enemy, but it's even better to save those in need of rescue."

Pothy looks at Telamon with a look.

No, really, it's just a look. A vacant stare... And then he says, "Snacks." Who know what his thoughts were on the thrush, unless he's implying the little bird is a snack.

"Remind me next time I see the Tyrant to tell him where I think he can stick his nightmares," Ravenstongue says in an irritated tone more befitting of a woman talking about an annoying coworker than a god.

But her face turns back into a smile quickly enough with the conclusion of Geir's tale. "Good work, though. Anything that gets the job done without anyone innocent dying is absolutely the bar anyone should be striving for. Not always possible... but when it is, you should be trying for that as hard as you can."

The Copper-scale watches as the little bird disappears into one of Slixvah's sashes, and he barely suppresses a laugh. "This one is amused at a little bird nesting inside a bigger one." His expression turns serious, and he shakes his head. "This one can assist in finding those who injured you. Bandits are not well looked upon here."

Geir concentrates for several moments, and begins to glow, and shortly thereafter, the blood stops leaking from the gash in his armor. "This one is one of the Deathdragon's own. And... this one is touched that you would be concerned so for his well being. Thank you."

Turning to Telamon, he nods. "It is unfortunate that the decision had to be made, this one wishes he could have done both. But, a patrol will be arranged to attempt to track the priests. As, one suspects, one will be sent to look for the bandits. With luck, they are part of the same group."

The Sith laughs at Raven's oath, "This one would be well pleased to offer the Tyrant the bird."

Slix is completely out of the loop on whatever they were going on about, but she sits there with a sunny expression, swaying lightly from side to side as her multitude of colorful textiles swish with her. "Fi likes the hidey-holes," she chirps.

Her head dips some towards the makari. "You needn't trouble yourself with that sugar, some soldiers took care of lil' ol' Slix and the bandits. And you're welcome. Don't like seeing inside stuff staying on the outside."

She looks to Cor'lana, opens her beak slightly like she smiling, and holds up her hands. "And I can offer four!"

There's a muffled chirp from within the fold of clothes.

Telamon sighs, settling his arm around Raven. "I know. I feel the same way. I want to ask if he suffers from piles from being chained to his seat." He smirks, and plants a kiss on Raven's cheek.

He then shakes his head at Geir. "Don't feel bad about it. You made the right call. That man will live because of you. Hold that close and you'll feel a lot better about things -- it's an ideal that'll keep you warmer than any fire."

"Four?" Ravenstongue blinks a little at Slixvah, not sure if she understands where the number is coming from. "Do you mean snacks? Don't tell Po--"

"SNACKS," Pothy says excitedly. His tail feathers wag up and down in anticipation. Now that the word's been said, he wants to know where they are, and--most importantly--when they're getting put down his gullet.

"See? He's completely incorrigible." Ravenstongue sighs as she puts a hand into her satchel, pulling it out to reveal a handful of nuts. Pothy chows down on them.

The corners of Geir's mouth curl upwards slightly, a smile without showing sharp, pointed teeth. "Likewise, this one hopes that you are able to return to the skies quickly. And it is no trouble, it is part of this one's duties. Well.." The copper-scale pauses, considering. "One of his self-appointed duties. If one is strong, one should help protect others."

He snorts and chuckles. "Four birds for the Tyrant." He snorts and again and slaps at one of his legs, which jingles noisily.

"It was the right call.", Geir says in reply to Telamon, "However strong the urge was to hunt them down. It is still frustrating. It does take the edge off of that, knowing the man will survive."

He blinks at Ravenstongue, and chuckles all the more. "Four birds."

Slix blinks and chuckles softly. She holds up a hand, and extends her middle finger. "One." The other one. "Two." She points to herself. "Three." Then Fiadh chirps again. "Four!"

She giggles. "Sorry sugar, no snacks here. Unless you count-" She shuts her beak, holds a finger up to it, then snickers.

"Thank you, honey buns. I saw some mountains nearby on the way in, and I cannot wait to see what's up there."

Telamon looks at Raven bemusedly, and mouths, 'honey buns'? Oh boy, that's gonna set Pothy off -again-, isn't it? Dryly, he remarks, "Pothy eats enough for four birds. Absolutely insatiable. I've never seen anything like it." He does snicker at Slixvah's witticism. "I'll have to remember that one."

He looks fondly at Raven, feeding Pothy, before turning to Geir. "Precisely. And in the meantime, you have the opportunity to recuperate, and even find allies before taking the fight back to them."

"He eats for more than four birds if you let him," Ravenstongue says, sharing his bemused look.

Then the explanation of the four birds comes along and understanding dawns onto Ravenstongue. She snickers, perhaps a little more than is really sensible, eventually having to pat away laughing tears from her eyes. "Let's add three to that--maybe three and a half, all things considered. My two 'birds', my Pothy, and my lineage."

It's an odd turn of phrase. Ravenstongue certainly doesn't /look/ egalrin.

The rumble in Geir's throat deepens, and he shakes his head. "This one thinks you will be just fine in Alexandria.", he says to Slixvah. He clears his throat. "Forgive this one for his manners, this one is Geir. Peace on your nessts."

"This one does not need to recuperate, but to sleep. The fight will be brought, allies or not." The copper-scale straightens. "Though this one will attempt to collect a few like-minded individuals."

"Lineage?", Geir wonders of Ravens, though he shrugs. "One could also state that some... refer to women as birds. In less respectable places."

Slix chuckles deeply, it sounds more like a rolling coo in her chest. "That math checks out, shug."

She puts a hand to her sternum. "Slixvah Unmasi, but call me Slix. Pleasure to meet you loves. Again," she winks.

She does share a similar question in her eyes that Geir wonders aloud, but she softly laughs and shakes her head. "I don't mind, call me what you will!"

She settles her attention on the other three, watching. She looks up to Geir, her good wing unfurling slightly as a cascade of ribbons on it flutter. "By the by, your scales? Chic and lovely. Reminds me of my home's mountains."

"And you two make such an endearing pair," she coos.

Telamon starts to speak, but then stops, and instead simply says, "It's her tale to tell. I'm a part of it, obviously, but I prefer to let 'Lana explain." He smiles broadly. "But suffice to say, she is the wondrous, graceful swan of my life. Me, I always figured I'd be a duck. Quack." He delivers the last absolutely deadpan, but his eyes are dancing, laughing.

Ravenstongue's cheeks color, of course, with Slixvah's cooing observation regarding her and Telamon. And then, of course, comes Telamon's description of her as a swan. How's a girl supposed to hold up in this onslaught?

She giggles when Telamon describes himself as a duck. "I'd have been the first to call you a swan, Tel," she says. "Maybe more of a starry-eyed owl, though, now that I think about it. You're always the one grumbling in the mornings."

She turns her gaze back to Geir and Slix now that she's offered her input on Telamon's description of her. "It's a long story--but I am distantly descended from a former member of the fey nobility known as the Feathered One. Sometimes I like to joke I'm part bird as a result." Ravenstongue grins. "Pothy doesn't think it's funny."

Pothy regards her for a moment. "Not funny," he repeats, before he looks longingly at the cake box that Ravenstongue left with an employee on their desk. Perhaps if the room was suddenly distracted...

The Sith nods to the Egalrin. "Slixvah. A pleasing name, though my kind would ssay two too many ess soundss for their liking. But this one has come to embrace the difficultiess posed." He snorts and shakes his head. "This one would not intentionally call you something... displeasing. Though, it is difficult to escape the fact that you are, indeed, in part, a bird."

The compliment on his scales elicits a somewhat bashful posture, and there's a look of momentary panic in his eyes. Straightening slightly, the corners of his lips curl upwards once more. "This one is sure that he is the inferior copy. One knows that the Egalrin choose breathtaking vistas for their homes. And this one must say that your colourations is well matched to the airy nature of your dress. Almost a cacophony of colour when you fly, yes?"

Geir looks to Telamon. "Perhaps a goose?" He chuckles then, and looks to Ravenstongue. "It's the eyes, isn't it? Owlish?" He goes silent at her telling of her fey ancestor. "Who knows when it comes to the Fey. You may indeed be part bird. This one is no dragon, but does have those beasts' blood in his veins. Blood is a... funny thing."

Slix softly laughs from Cor'lana's reaction. "You two are too rich, it's beautiful." Though, she cocks her head to the side. "The Fey? Oh, now that's quite interesting to know, sweet heart." <Sylvan>

She blinks at Geir. Then- "Ah, I'm sorry, dearie. Look at me, always running my beak. I'll lay off. I do thank you though, I worked quite hard on it!"

She bobs her head, her eyes brightly smiling. "Yes, it's lovely to see! Give me a day and I can get that arranged!"

The comparison to a goose or an owl does make Telamon grin, in that 'oh, well played' kind of way. The acknowledgement of a point scored and a certain amount of amusement in it. "Indeed. You never know when your inheritance is going to come back to you in some strange way."

Then his eyebrows jump up as Slix addresses Raven in the sibilant words of the fey-tongue. "I really must warn you, 'Lana's been tutoring me in the language. Although I could only catch about half of that. It IS interesting, isn't it?" Now his grin is impish, mischievious.

"I think you find it /too/ interesting at times--perhaps it's the situations I find that I'm teaching you new words," Ravenstongue says with a side-glance and a smirk to Telamon. They trade words playfully like two fencers who happen to be competitive friends, and she happens to be rather enjoying the duel, judging by the blush that's lingered on her face and her smirk.

She nods to Geir and Slix. "Yes, well--I have met him," she says, "and he has some birdlike qualities. But he is mostly humanoid. I actually inherited his eyes."

Her violet eyes are indeed intriguing, but don't particularly look avian. The feather mark that pokes out from the neckline of her dress, however, seems to be perhaps more telling.

"Oh, it is nothing to apologize for.", the copper-scale says to Slixvah. "This one finds taking and giving compliments to be difficult. One is never certain how to react. Do not allow one's bashfulness to stop you, though." He nods then. "This one hopes your recovery is swift. And this one does now have a desire to see such."

He looks to Telamon then, and back to Slixvah. "Was that the tongue of your people?", he wonders of the feather'd one.

"His eyes? That is an odd inheritance. Was he done using them before you got them?"

Slix hums, her leaning in some. "Oh! So you do! Such a brilliant violet, dearie. And maybe a little bit of bird, hmm?" she glances down slightly to the feather peaking out.

She nods to Telamon. "It is a bit difficult to pick up, I agree. But keep at it!" she encourages.

She sighs in relief as the copper-scale assuages her. "Then that is good, sugar. I don't ever mean anything by it, I just like giving them! It takes no effort, and people love it dearly! Thank you. Just need a little rest and I'll be right as rain!"

She perks up. "Oh? No, that wasn't! This is!"

She speaks more, sounding light bird calls and whistling winds, "xtAnd handsome to boot!" <Auran>

Telamon actually colors just a bit at Raven's teasing, though he rallies. "Now 'Lana, let's not scandalize folks." He gives her a squeeze around the waist, hugging her close.

Peering over the top of Raven's head, he just raises an eyebrow at Geir. "No, it... wait, you're makari. It's like the color of your scales, passed down from one generation to another. With her -- and me -- it's our eyes. Hers are like amethyst, mine are like starry skies."

At Slix's encouragement, he grins. "Well, I have a good teacher. But thank you for the words of encouragement." When she speaks in Auran, he shakes his head. "Alright, -that- I didn't recognize at all."

"Hardly a scandal," Ravenstongue responds with a snicker. "Isn't it natural to pay more attention in class if the teacher is attractive to you?"

She's still grinning with Geir's words. "No, no, he's still using them. I happen to have a pretty close copy. I was born with them. Telamon thinks they're pretty--which is why the ring he got me happens to have two amethysts. Unless, of course, they just happened to be on special--and I wouldn't be mad for that. Jewelry is nice, but the bond is far nicer and more important."

She also tilts her head at the Auran words. "I didn't recognize it either," Ravenstongue says. "But yes, I see you've spotted my curuchuil mark--that's family tradition. All firstborns get this feather mark to indicate our connection to the Feathered One." She beams as she describes it.

"That is a good way to look at things.", Geir says with a nod of his head. He blinks in surprise at the bird calls and whistling. "This one has not heard such a language before. But then, this one knows no other Egalrin. You are the first that this one has seen who was not at a great distance, flying somewhere."

The Sith chuckles deeply at Telamon's explanation, and he waves a hand dismissively. "This one was attempting to be humorous. Obviously, this has failed."

His chuckle returns as Ravenstongue also tries to explain, and it is then he is drawn to the feather mark. "Intriguing. They receive the mark at birth?"

"The language of the winds and sky is our native tongue, loves," Slix winks. "Then how fortunate it is for me to grace the ground and meet you all!"

She bobs her head in agreement about the fact of lineages and bloodlines being passed down. "That is right fascinating, darlin'," she coos to Cor'lana, listening attentively.

Telamon just shakes his head in amusement. "Your eyes -are- pretty. And yes, the amethyst was for your eyes. I am not a copper-grubber." He smiles broadly, though, at the comment about the teacher being attractive.

"No worries, friend," he says to Geir. "Sometimes it's hard for me to read makari expressions -- I'm working on that. The body language is often very different." He pauses, then a sly grin pops up. "Very similar to egalrin behavior, though. I wonder if there's some common ancestor?"

"I doubt there's a common ancestor. We just simply have to work harder as 'softskins' to understand them," Ravenstongue says with a smile to Telamon. "It's the least we can do."

Her hand goes back to the mark on her chest and she nods proudly, those violet eyes that have been discussed so much in the past moments sparkling almost in the light. "Yes. At birth. Mine was supposed to have been done at birth, but it was left halfway finished until a few months ago. The mark was only viewable through arcane sight--which is how I became aware of it. A friend of mine looked at me with his arcane sight and informed me there was a mark of a feather right on my heart. Then I became aware of my heritage and family line--and now, I am a proud Lupecyll who bears the mark of our 'Grandfather'."

"Snacks," Pothy says brightly.

Ravenstongue smirks. "Pothy likes Grandfather because he brings by things for us to eat, of course."

"It has been a pleasing end to a trying day.", the Sith says softly. "And this one hopes to see you all again, some other time. This one must report in to his temple, lest they worry."

Geir chuckles and rolls his shoulders slightly. "There are many similarities between us all, it would not be a large surprise if, indeed, there were common ancestors." A quick wink before the copper-scale straightens. "An interesting ancestor you have. This one is interested to hear more, but, must be off. Be well and peace on your nests." Geir steps to and out the door, the sound of his armor clinking into the distance.

Slix's eyes twinkle like she's got an ace joke up her sleeved. "No common ancestor, no," she chirps instead, keeping that to herself. "I see. That is quite an intriguing manifestation. I'd love to hear all about it-"

She suddenly yawns, her giving a wave to the leaving makari. "He's a sweetheart. Peace on your nest!"

"Eating is good to be strong and healthy!" She stretches her good wing. "And rest! I'll be here, loves if you need me. It was such a pleasure to meet you all!" she coos.

-End Scene-