07-29-2019, 05:32 PM
Lepis follows the fall of the feather with one twisted ear, but she is soon distracted. The girl’s name is quite fitting, the Comtesse thinks to herself; rather reminiscent of the jabbering blue birds that sometimes flit between the redwoods. Popinjay’s chattering is far less harsh than that of the birds though, and Lepis barely manages to hide a smile behind the curve of one quickly-raised wing. Barry Bushes indeed.
“I don’t have a bird,” she tells the filly, interjecting when she can. “But I’ve never eaten one either, and I’m sure Turul is safe from Aten as well.” The thought of the champagne stallion chasing down the falcon for a bite is almost as amusing as the bay’s hunt for Barry. Lepis cannot quite bring herself to crush the girl’s impression of the mysterious figure that Popinjay is waiting to find, and so instead she gives a quiet call to the woods behind her, where she knows someone is waiting.
“I don’t have a bird,” she tells the filly, interjecting when she can. “But I’ve never eaten one either, and I’m sure Turul is safe from Aten as well.” The thought of the champagne stallion chasing down the falcon for a bite is almost as amusing as the bay’s hunt for Barry. Lepis cannot quite bring herself to crush the girl’s impression of the mysterious figure that Popinjay is waiting to find, and so instead she gives a quiet call to the woods behind her, where she knows someone is waiting.
