"Thank you," he said in response to the deer. "I hope it brought you peace." He folded his hands in his lap, the golden ornamentation on his fingers glittering as they moved briefly through a patch of sunlight. He allowed himself to fall into silence with this stranger, and the animals gathered around him settled down into a contented lull. The forest was still and quiet, and the man closed his eyes to revel in the peace around him.
It was rather short lived, however. The animals around him roused quite abruptly from their rest, and a few of the more flighty creatures took off into the underbrush. It didn't take long for the kelahati to see why: a predator was in their midst, and his eyes were keenly set on the deer lounging nearby.
"Peace, friend," he said softly, turning his vivid blue gaze to the other man. "My name is Osira, and these lands belong to no one. I'm nothing more than a traveling scribe, chronicling the history of the land in song." He ruffled his wings, his feathers rustling softly, and extended one in a sweeping gesture in invitation. "Won't you come join us for a while?" There was no harm in easing the newcomer's worries. Osira had little doubt that life had been hard on him, especially given the predator mentality of lands belonging to one or another. Though perhaps he was simply out of touch with the rest of his kin; civilized life in the far swamps had been far different.
His gaze slid over to the deer, an inkling of concern written in the creases around his eyes. The new man hadn't yet noticed that she was one of them, and he was keen to fix that, lest blood be split. "I don't believe I got your name, Miss. Pardon my rudeness." Osira's head dipped in an apologetic bow as he brought a hand to his chest.
It was rather short lived, however. The animals around him roused quite abruptly from their rest, and a few of the more flighty creatures took off into the underbrush. It didn't take long for the kelahati to see why: a predator was in their midst, and his eyes were keenly set on the deer lounging nearby.
"Peace, friend," he said softly, turning his vivid blue gaze to the other man. "My name is Osira, and these lands belong to no one. I'm nothing more than a traveling scribe, chronicling the history of the land in song." He ruffled his wings, his feathers rustling softly, and extended one in a sweeping gesture in invitation. "Won't you come join us for a while?" There was no harm in easing the newcomer's worries. Osira had little doubt that life had been hard on him, especially given the predator mentality of lands belonging to one or another. Though perhaps he was simply out of touch with the rest of his kin; civilized life in the far swamps had been far different.
His gaze slid over to the deer, an inkling of concern written in the creases around his eyes. The new man hadn't yet noticed that she was one of them, and he was keen to fix that, lest blood be split. "I don't believe I got your name, Miss. Pardon my rudeness." Osira's head dipped in an apologetic bow as he brought a hand to his chest.
