[Ashe was meditating under a tree near the edge of the sea-bluff, with her Arcane in full effect so that she could watch the various animals around without disturbing them. But for pity's sake...like bunnies, corgis, overly-amorous groundparrots and Hugh Jackman, puffins are Unfair. There is no not making noise when they are around. So she's watching happily now, and eventually of course she can't keep it in anymore.]
Puffin! Here's a boy who looks all of five years old, black watch-cap pulled snugly down to hide blue hair, and wishing he'd brought some flaked fish to share.
[Someday, when she's old enough to wear the brightly-coloured beak of her adult kin, Morag will be better at interpreting the power around her. For now she can sense it but, for example, this time she's mistaken any local magic for that of some other skin-changer clan.]
[The sudden noise from just around the tree prompts a harsh little squawk. She flaps and scrambles over the nearest tree root, then ducks her head and tries to fix on the source.]
[A spray of sandy earth goes up, and the puffin pops her head up just to check if she's being watching. And oh, is she. She freezes, hunkers down and gives the enormous feline a baleful glare. Her burrow's not big enough to hide in yet, which leaves her stuck out here with the predator... crap.]
The puffin knows he's there. She pops her head up over her shoulder once in a while, to check he's just watching. She'd rather not be watched while she's carving out a hiding hole, but he's only a wee kid. Not like he's going to set up a trap for her.
On the other hand, where there's a kid there must be parents, right? She stops as this thought occurs, and starts preening the sand out of her feathers. That lets her shoot some casual glances around the area, listening for the other humans.
There's a girl, visually possibly a small young teen, watching the ocean from a wheelchair a short distance away. She'll push the chair a little closer to the boy. Her own hair is also hidden, beneath a scarf and sunhat. "I don't think anyone will come out here, 'niisan. Can I please go swimming?"
The smaller boy frowns for a moment. "If someone does show up, they'll have questions if there doesn't look like there's someone older with me." The protest doesn't hold up for long as the bigger girl makes a pleading face of the sort usually from someone the age the boy appears to be. "Oh, all right. I'll send a message if I hear anyone coming, and try to find a place to hide..."
The girl only hears half of this before she tosses off the hat and scarf, revealing short blue hair... and also pushes off the blanket covering the lower half of her body. There's a good view of an oddly metallic fish-fin before she hitches out the the chair like a hyperactive mudskipper and dives off into the ocean.
What's all this? Morag pauses with her beak in her feathers, a dark eye cocked at them while they talk. What've this lot got to hide from?
She gets her answer shortly. The young puffin starts - maybe it's all the commotion as the girl lunges for the water - and scuttles to a safer distance. That was a fishtail. That was absolutely a fishtail. But these aren't fishfolk. Are they? Wouldn't they know her?
Anxious because she's confused and alarmed, she hunkers down on the sand with a low croaking growl. She's got her eye on them.
Whatever he is, the boy seems completely unaware that the puffin is anything more than a very cute seabird. He is, however, a little concerned when he notices it seems scared. He doesn't bother trying to say anything, since he doesn't expect a wild bird would understand. But he'll sit down to try to seem less threatening.
[...You what? Excuse her, but since when do land-beasts talk? She's giving him a very squinty, very sharp look. If he does come after her, she's an idea what she can do...]
[Just to be fair, though, she tries answering with a high, harsh cry. It's not a natural bird-call: there's an odd sing-song rhythm to it that tugs at the blood beneath the skin. The hunting cry of her people, meant to warn off any prey-shaped kindred. She figures if he is a proper skin-changer, he'll get the message.]
Right. She pulls herself together. Something's going on here, and she's not letting that slide. She patters closer to where the boy is sitting, circling at a small, cautious distance. She wants to get the measure of him, figure out if there's some strange magic attached to him or what.
[Goddamn squee reflex. Ashe claps a hand over her mouth but...yeah, too late. She softens her voice immediately. She's mostly used to working with animal spirits, and some of them are skittish.] Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, really!
[She keeps herself still, hands in her lap. Absolutely no sudden moves.]
[The puffin straightens up a bit, dark eyes giving her a hard look. Then she turns her head and preens a bit, setting any ruffled feathers in order. Look what you made her do. Not that she was scared. She just didn't expect anyone to be lurking about here.]
['Least this one's polite about it, though. Surprisingly polite. Maybe Morag will forgive her.]
[This is tricky. She's always been taught not to give herself away. Then again, no-one said anything about giant cats who ask too many questions. And she can't talk human-style in this form, but she doesn't want to be eaten. Morag being Morag, she doesn't trust him to not eat her if she shifts. She'd rather keep her bigger, tougher side in reserve.]
[So instead she jerks her head in a quick couple of nods.]
[That worked? He's not hunting her now? She stands up, craning her head to peer at him suspiciously. At his question, though, she sits back and gives a sort of croaking, mocking call, with the rhythm of laughter. What, should she tell him?]
Oddly, for this universe at least, there's no magic at all. He just sits and watches quietly as the little bird gets closer, not wanting to spook her again. "I didn't bring any fish with me," he says softly, almost apologetic about it. Not that he expects the puffin to understand.
Oh, I know. I'm terrible. I interrupted you, didn't I? [Somehow Irritated Puffin manages to be even cuter and she has trouble keeping the squee out of her voice.] I probably owe you some of my sushi at this point.
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Oh my Gods. *squeak!*
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[The sudden noise from just around the tree prompts a harsh little squawk. She flaps and scrambles over the nearest tree root, then ducks her head and tries to fix on the source.]
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On the other hand, where there's a kid there must be parents, right? She stops as this thought occurs, and starts preening the sand out of her feathers. That lets her shoot some casual glances around the area, listening for the other humans.
(same mun, journalflipped just for icon XD)
The smaller boy frowns for a moment. "If someone does show up, they'll have questions if there doesn't look like there's someone older with me." The protest doesn't hold up for long as the bigger girl makes a pleading face of the sort usually from someone the age the boy appears to be. "Oh, all right. I'll send a message if I hear anyone coming, and try to find a place to hide..."
The girl only hears half of this before she tosses off the hat and scarf, revealing short blue hair... and also pushes off the blanket covering the lower half of her body. There's a good view of an oddly metallic fish-fin before she hitches out the the chair like a hyperactive mudskipper and dives off into the ocean.
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She gets her answer shortly. The young puffin starts - maybe it's all the commotion as the girl lunges for the water - and scuttles to a safer distance. That was a fishtail. That was absolutely a fishtail. But these aren't fishfolk. Are they? Wouldn't they know her?
Anxious because she's confused and alarmed, she hunkers down on the sand with a low croaking growl. She's got her eye on them.
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Can you talk?
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[Just to be fair, though, she tries answering with a high, harsh cry. It's not a natural bird-call: there's an odd sing-song rhythm to it that tugs at the blood beneath the skin. The hunting cry of her people, meant to warn off any prey-shaped kindred. She figures if he is a proper skin-changer, he'll get the message.]
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[She keeps herself still, hands in her lap. Absolutely no sudden moves.]
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Yes or no, are you sentient?
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['Least this one's polite about it, though. Surprisingly polite. Maybe Morag will forgive her.]
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[So instead she jerks her head in a quick couple of nods.]
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He looked back to her.]
Are all the birds sentient?
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[Morag's a bit prone to holding grudges.]
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Maybe I should eat you, you little smart ass.
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[No joke, though, she's got to work out what that is. But how?]
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