05-31-2016, 03:36 PM
WEIR
His entrance is that of theatrics and fun, never sparing a moment for some playfulness and cheer. The girls name is odd on his tongue as he plays with the word in his head, silently sounding it out, ‘Graeme’. He wasn’t one to judge though, certainly there were many others that thought his own calling was an odd one but he liked it nonetheless and this one too would grow on him.
Weir rolls out the questions like a red carpet for a movie premier, long and loud. The rusty hued male does this often, there’s just too much going on in his brilliant head that most of the time it is truly a mess and he can not hope to quiet it. When the girl quickly finds her words he is forever pleased, intent on her answers, nodding and “mmm-hmming” in the blank spaces between speech. Indeed, indeed wings were heavy when wet of course and though he hadn’t expected the girl to think them heavy it was always nice to confirm his ideas when he had a valid source. Who’s to say the confirmation of a child was any less meaningful than that of an elder or scholar- not he.
“A splendid answer yes, perhaps waiting for a bit of age before trying them out might be best, or perhaps a proper teacher. I’m afraid I havnt the experience of proper flight my dear but-” Weir doesn’t have to finish his ramble of words, stopping mid-sentence as the girl turns to Eira and asks for an instructor herself, already calling the bay beauty ‘Mom’. The word melts him, a large smile growing wide across his velvet lips and he can only be joyous at raising yet another life, perhaps they, together, could spread upstanding citizens throughout the realm of Beqanna- at least they could try. Who though, who would dump such a lovely child in the den?
Whoever left them always seemed to leave the pleasant ones didn’t they? Poor darlings, how they ever managed to walk away he wouldn’t dare guess but he’d like to think they had their reasons. If he could give them some small benefit of the doubt he would.
To the question of teaching he does have a proper answer and a name for whom they might seek to help. “Of course, Phaedrus has wings my dear, well spotted!” The idea strikes him suddenly, gears whirling about as he nods himself into assurance. “We’ll have to settle that with him won’t we Graeme? Oh you’ll like Phaedrus, a good sort of fellow he is.” Would that he could ruffle her little forelock but he does not yet think they well acquainted enough for such things, instead he leans into Eira as she speaks, keeping the conversation from small ears. “All right?” he whispers in question, brushing her ear with his maw, “absolutely. No need to worry on it Eira, we have plenty of room. No need for my permission, think nothing of it.”
Weir rolls out the questions like a red carpet for a movie premier, long and loud. The rusty hued male does this often, there’s just too much going on in his brilliant head that most of the time it is truly a mess and he can not hope to quiet it. When the girl quickly finds her words he is forever pleased, intent on her answers, nodding and “mmm-hmming” in the blank spaces between speech. Indeed, indeed wings were heavy when wet of course and though he hadn’t expected the girl to think them heavy it was always nice to confirm his ideas when he had a valid source. Who’s to say the confirmation of a child was any less meaningful than that of an elder or scholar- not he.
“A splendid answer yes, perhaps waiting for a bit of age before trying them out might be best, or perhaps a proper teacher. I’m afraid I havnt the experience of proper flight my dear but-” Weir doesn’t have to finish his ramble of words, stopping mid-sentence as the girl turns to Eira and asks for an instructor herself, already calling the bay beauty ‘Mom’. The word melts him, a large smile growing wide across his velvet lips and he can only be joyous at raising yet another life, perhaps they, together, could spread upstanding citizens throughout the realm of Beqanna- at least they could try. Who though, who would dump such a lovely child in the den?
Whoever left them always seemed to leave the pleasant ones didn’t they? Poor darlings, how they ever managed to walk away he wouldn’t dare guess but he’d like to think they had their reasons. If he could give them some small benefit of the doubt he would.
To the question of teaching he does have a proper answer and a name for whom they might seek to help. “Of course, Phaedrus has wings my dear, well spotted!” The idea strikes him suddenly, gears whirling about as he nods himself into assurance. “We’ll have to settle that with him won’t we Graeme? Oh you’ll like Phaedrus, a good sort of fellow he is.” Would that he could ruffle her little forelock but he does not yet think they well acquainted enough for such things, instead he leans into Eira as she speaks, keeping the conversation from small ears. “All right?” he whispers in question, brushing her ear with his maw, “absolutely. No need to worry on it Eira, we have plenty of room. No need for my permission, think nothing of it.”
WINTER IS COMING