like water off the mountains

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-21-2012, 02:58 PM

[html]

(302)

While he found the vulture’s appearance peculiar, there was no denying his use as a scout. Ibsen was much the same. The intelligence of the animal was still questionable, given his way of speaking, but Ezekiel assumed birds, like canines, varied with their strengths. Certainly, the vulture could attack and kill in ways that Ibsen, who was even large for a raven, could not.

Ithiel too, was something of an enigma. While Aemon had been open and happy, there was a very palpable wall between this younger brother and his true self. The Aquila did not know what to make of him, but felt certain in his skills. Scintilla would not have allowed otherwise; his meetings with Kastra had proven such a thing. While abrasive and short-tempered, she was fair and he admired this in her.

Red ears rose at the bird’s response, recognizing it for speech but finding the dialect thick and almost without understanding. It was less varied then Ibsen’s raven-tongue, which was capable not only of a wide variety of low speech, but imitating high-speech to a degree almost as well as his father. Marlowe had been a remarkable exception to the world, and it suffered for his loss.

Curious further by the young man’s behavior, the Aquila eyed him with the same curiosity he had given Aemon. Both brothers resembled the night, one shadow and one moon, a sharp contrast to Ezekiel’s sunlit coat and eyes. He imagined this worked better for them, though; a scout with fur to set him at odds with the terrain was no scout at all. “How are you settling? I haven’t seen much of you or Aemon recently,” he added, though this was not to say he hadn’t seen them at a distance or performing various duties. Neither brother seemed truly social.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?