and the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor
Vesper smirked slightly at the other’s gladness. It made her feel even better, in a way, although she would never admit that to anyone else. She liked her reputation as somewhat aloof, and always sensible; the fact that she had a soft spot for kids (not weird little puppies, mind you, but pleasant, cute little kiddos in their teens) was not something she wanted to let get out. She didn’t want all of Inferni to think that she’d mommy them. She was the big papa of her little scouts, and that was just about it.
Breaking herself out of her wannabe-badass reverie, the woman listened curiously as Dalgina explained the basics of low speech. A dark beak nodding at the corner of her vision confirmed what she was saying, that the phrases were made of some sounds and gestures rather than words in another language. Somehow, it sounded easier to her; she hoped it meant that her intention could come through in her speech even if she didn’t know exactly how to say something.
A birdlike call left the dark she-wolf’s mouth, and Vesper recoiled lightly as the kestrel flew up into the air, translating the command. She blinked then smiled in understanding, craning her neck to glance at the raven perched on her shoulder.
“Good for learning,” Stark said quietly. “Telling ravens fly—then learning place sounds. Flying to river, flying to packs.” He poked her on the head. “Boy listening,” he said, and let out a croaking call not entirely unlike that of the teen’s command. He unfurled his wings and lifted up into the sky as well, mindful of Tehu’s space. He looked down, and he might have grinned if he could. “Boy flapping arms, getting point across better,” he called teasingly.
Vesper snorted. “I get it,” she said, looking at Dalgina with a crooked little grin. “Now do you know how to tell them to shut up?”
table by raze; pattern by dinpattern
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