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May I present you... the Bible! W.C.: nasty 1185!
Inside his mind, Attila was having a great fight, between his good side and his bad side. As he woke up in a very good mood, he was eager to do something different. The question was: What would he be doing of different? He didn't want something small. He wanted to do something big, something drastic, something... extreme. After lots of time thinking of what would it be, the little lamp lit up in his brain: Today, he would be... nice. Of course, the problem was to convince his bad side. That caused his mental fight.
"That's it!!" he thought, sick of that silly fight. If he wanted, he'd get it! That was his lifestyle, and worked until now. No one would stop it now! His white long and strong legs stamped as he went out of the den. He looked around, looking for something that needed his... niceness. Nothing around, it seemed.
Suddenly, he smelled a different aroma in the air. Something... "plant-ish"? That requested his attention. The pale boy forced a fast run to where the smell came. It didn't take long until he knew what it was. His nose took him to the planting fields. The corn, the potatoes, the tomatoes... they were -finally- sprouting. He tilted his head to that vision. Tiny colorful spots inked the green-and-brown striped background. It was a rather... beautiful scene.
"Bah!", he thought, shaking that gooey-gooey thinkings. He'd rather leave those to Noir, she was better at this than he was. Then, his grayihs blue eyes landed in the barn besides the fields. Than a smile. Not his evil grin, but a contented smile. The Aston boy tried to recall the last time he smiled like that... no, it must be the first time. Odd.
His legs, then, took him to the big structure -it might use some paint in the outter part, at least- that seemed still undone. Where was Dawali, with his oppositive thumbs, in moments like that?! Attila hadn't shifted yet, which meant he couldn't do much around here. He hated so much that belated shift. "Why?!", he always thought, while looking at his rounded white paw. His grayish white claws, his pinky pawpads, his four small fingers... and his lack of an oppositive thumb.
Althought he couldn't make great things, he could do something. A quick look around screamed: "Nothing simple enough for you, thumbless brat!" Dissapointed, he walked very slowly around, exploring that already familiar place. He and his sisters had already came here, but not so frequently. Just enough to know the building.
For the sake of his sanity -when he finally wants to be good, there is nothing for him to do!-, a miracle happened: a tool, broken -a shovel, without the steel blade-. It needed to be fixed. And it was an easy repair, even for him. A wider smile appeared in his face. "Yes!", he thought. He hopped to it, and sat heavily in the ground. It was easy! All hew needed to do was... to... just... Well, just... Well, It wasn't that easy as it seemed. It was just to place the hole of the metal in the wooden stick... He tried to hold it with the arm, hugging the stick, and trying to make it enter the hole in the metal -which should be where the stick goes-, but his body trembled with the weight of the stick, making it a hard task.
After a while, the Aston boy just to stab around, hoping to hit the entrance at once. But he only hitted the ground and the metal, luckily not strong enough to smash it or mould it. Time passed and he grew frustated. More and more, until he couldn't hold it anymore: he hitted the metal blade very strongly, purposely, to relieve his stress. But it didn't happen as he planned. Instead of smashing it, the blade was threw by the strenght of the hit, and it hitted a wood board in the ceiling of the barn, shaking it and pulling whatever it was over it. The boy heard the hay pads falling down. An adrenaline shot did the work for him. His legs made him run away from the dangerously heavy material above his head. When he noticed everything was down, it was a relieve and a desaster. What have he done? He was supposed to be nice, not to mess things up! He such a jackass! The clumsy boy put a paw over his eye, rubbig it down very slowly, thinking to himself multiple times: "I'm screwed!"
His sensible ears heard desperate pleas, from under the pounds and pounds of hay. It was his chance to make up with his mess and be... nice. If he saved the life of whatever was down there, maybe he wouldn't have a very hard punishment! He then quickly went to the great amount of hay, and started to dig it, throwing all the dry grass in the air, making an even bigger mess. He really didn't care, since he at least find what was asking for help. The cries got louder and less choky. He, somehow, knew that it was the cries of a bird.
With one last push, he found the victim of his anger: a baby owl. It was very... ugly, but it was hurt. It looked at the young male with tortured eyes. A glance around, and the boy found his nest. "Poor thing...", he thought, than realized what he thought. "Did I really said that?!", he mouthed, thinking to himself. That was... no, not odd... no, not weird... it was... spooky! That one he was sure never saying before.
It really didn't matter now. He needed help with that... thing! The most delicately he could, he grabbed the poor bird out the remaining of the hay, and placed him near a wooden crate. The owl wasn't going to stop screaming, and it was beggining to annoy him -he had never been much of fan of baby cry. The pale boy went after his nest. He rushed to put the baby back to his bed. It would probably help him to feel better. Noir always calmed down when she got Toefur back. It might work with owls too, right? The bird seemed to low its shouting, but there was no perspective for it to stop.
The boy needed to think: what would his mom do in such situation? She was a doctor, and would know what to do. But he was not, and he couldn't remember what she spoke about things like those... "Shoot!" he finally said, shouting in frustation. The nestling seemed to quiet down a bit, crying only time to time, probably with the pain. The boy couldn't think straight without imaginating what would happen if the baby don't get help quick enough... So many bad and irracional fears... It was like... the boy was getting bounded to the bird he met not minutes ago... Oh, that was being a horrible day. Attila could barely remember why he had started with that stupid idea of doing something... extreme!
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-jumps in!- 600+
The Amara was in need of fresh vegetables for Aidan again, since the red she-wolf usually spoiled her equine companion with little treats of vegetables here and there, usually when Aidan had done a marvelous task, or was just obedient. Asha wished she could say the same for Jaya, her Spirit Guide, but that hawk was just as disobedient and spontaneous as herself. Hah, that figured. Jaya was barely tolerant of Aidan, perhaps maybe sensing even a hint of jealousy to come from him due to the fact that Asha practically basked in Aidan's attention nearly twenty-four seven. How could she not, when the equine was her means of traveling and somewhat protection? All she could do was smirk every now and then to this; her Spirit Guide was like taking care of a puppy, literally.
Her soft amber gaze had not seen the Aston boy initially in the vegetable harvest area; she had just missed the sight of him as he disappeared in the nearby barn. Giving a gentle tap with the heel of her foot, Asha had come on horse back, and apparently Aidan knew the reason for it, for the sight and aroma of the vegetables in the ground caused him to issue an ethusiastic neigh. With her small frame hopping off his back, she softly patted his neck. "I know, don't try anything smart like last time. Patience is a virtue, no matter what Jaya might say, or what your instincts tell you." Asha honestly believed that Jaya had some part in Aidan's mischief every now and then, despite the fact that Aidan used to be wily as all hell in the beginning, but calmed considerably down nowadays. Giving a smirk, the warrior in training skimmed through the harvest fields, only promising to gather vegetables in a small amount.
Picking up ripe and grown carrots, her fingers easily browsed through the vegetables, breaking them in halves and putting them in her hide knapsnack along her hip to cut into smaller pieces later. She was making this a quick job until one ear flicked to the barn, in which erratic sounds were suddenly being made in high volume (a combination of banging and screeching). Blinking, Asha turned to look at Aidan, seeing if he heard the same thing, in which he did, casting a glance over to the very barn. Compelled to find out just what was making such a racket, Asha absently slipped what she had in her hands into her sack and then sauntered as stealthily and silently as she could over to the barn, getting a closer look by means of the barn door (in which at first she hid behind so whoever was in there couldn't see her at first). And this was Aidan's time to make a sneak move in order to grab some vegetables for himself from the harvest grounds without Asha knowing, as he trotted to the nearest batch of vegetables and started to graze away.
Peering in, there was a mess of a haystack that fell from what appeared to be a high place. There was also a young boy, cradling what appeared to be a frantic and alarmed juvenile owl. The fallen haystack and the owl didn't connect at first, unless it was assumed that the boy had been trying to get at the owl from a high place, and the result of the mess happened. It was then Asha came from out the barn door, casually leaning against it with folded arms and a genuine smirk on her face. How endearing the scene was, a boy trying to comfort a baby owl. There was certainly nothing wrong with it, but it certainly wasn't a scene one beheld too often. Weren't boys inclined to playing touch and not giving a damn about things? This had certainly been a new face to her, however, the boy distinctly reminded Asha of Tayui in a sense. Did she have offspring this season? "I hope to the great Spirit Guides you're not planning to eat the poor thing." Asha then spoke with slight amusement, a quirked brow raised and her smirk firm across her muzzle.
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hey! ^^ let's suppose it's a baby barn owl, aye?
Attila was considering howling for help, but the ageing boy heard someone's voice. It was a different one, and the scent he felt seconds later was somehow familiar to him. It smelled similar to Dawali, but it was a girl's voice. "What the hell?", he thought.
He turned his head backwards, to see a woman that looked very much like the red "leader", but with markings and earrings that didn't belong to his memory of Dawali's face. What if it was his sister? His daughter? How ever she related to the Gola Watsi, she could help him.
Somehow, her "greeting" was rather insulting to him. He could eat the nestling, if he felt like it. The growing boy knew how to hunt down his siblings -and even his leader- but he wasn't hungry or eager enough to feed on that tiny feathered thing. Besides, he was trying to be... nice. From what he knew, being... nice wasn't to eat an innocent, harmed thing like the one he just saved. "No, I won't eat it!" he said, grumpy. "I guess he broke his wing. Can you help me to fix it?"he requested. "I don't have conditions to..." the pale kid commented, shaking his paws in the air. If he could shift into a two-legged shape, he could have fixed that shovel at once, and the baby owl wouldn't have fallen along with that hay, and it they could have ended the day healthy and happily. Unfortunately, he hadn't shifted yet, and it all happpened. Now, he felt responsible for that poor nestling.
After all, where were his parents? He looked up, looking for anything that looked like a big bird. No, nothing at all. Then, he landed the cold grayish blue eyes to the young owl, which now looked a bit skinny. A reason for that formed in his head: they rejected him. They left him in his own. Those were, certainly, terrible parents. They barely diserved to be parents! What a bunch of morons!
The boy mused about it for a while, lightly mouthing curses at the neglecting progenitors, while he tried to find any hint of them in the ceiling of the barn.
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Sure. (: 500
Asha could tell the confusion written across his face initially at her presence; many new faces of the tribe that came after their settlement not knowing too much about Dawali's daughters in general. Thanks Agidoda, for not pridefully saying a word about your only daughters. She was internally kidding, of course. The red she-wolf adored giving Dawali a difficult time, or making him feel guilty about outlandish things. Her Agidoda knew her all too well to know that half the time she was just trying to yank his tail with things. Observing the boy, the more she looked at the contours of his face, his eyes, and his pelt color, the more he reminded Asha of Tayui. It was a question that was begging to be asked, but Asha figured simple introduction formalities such as that could be answered later on. There was an injured baby barn owl at paw to handle.
Her smirk didn't falter once, even when the boy answered in an irritable statement. It was then he immediately requested some sort of assistance for the wing to be examined in the absence of anything useful to fix it or perhaps even the Gola Watsi himself. Uncrossing her arms, it was then she swiftly sauntered over, stooping down to where she balanced herself on bended knees to take a closer look at the baby barn owl. "Let me see. May I?" Her eyebrows raised, gesturing for the boy to allow her to observe the owl more closely. Granted that he did allow her to look (for his request, after all), her digits ran soothingly through the feathers, at first trying to calm the bird in her grasp (the presence of the two probably made it quite afraid that big creatures were handling such a small avian!) Once she pet through its feathers a couple times, her fingers strayed to both the wings; the tips of her fingers feeling out the fine bone structures on each wing at the same time. Suddenly the baby barn owl made a terrible caw, and it was when her fingers hit upon a tender, abstract point. "Whoah! Seems like you're right, there is a little wing injury on this guy..." She said with a faint shake of her head. Her eyes then danced over to the pile of hay that was everywhere, and then back to the bird. "Did this... did this happen on accident, or... were you trying to get it down from there?" Asha then asked, observing the piece that was wedged in the wooden wall of the barn, a possible piece of evidence that signified that maybe this didn't happen as spontaneously as she thought.
If the boy was responsible for this, Asha wasn't going to chastise him. Not in the least. She did considerably worse things when she was younger, so the boy honestly had no need to lie to her (and if he did, she'd catch him in it anyway, given that single metal piece was probable evidence).
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--
Attila watched while the female version of Dawali handled the bird, petting it for a while and then examining the wings of the baby owl. It made a desperate cry that angustiated the young boy. He thought to himself why in the world would he be angustiated with a baby cry. The bully kid hated that so badly, and barely felt so soft near that sound. It was a stupid thing that he felt, and it must be because it wasn't a real baby cry. Just an owl caw.
She assured his suspicion of the broken limb, and hoped she knew what to do in that case. His mother once healed a twisted ankle of Oce, after she had tripped while adventuring through the packlands. Unfortunaterly, he couldn't remember all the steps, and in the correct order. That really sucked, but he could do nothing about it right now.
The woman then asked how did that happened, and he frowned to her. "Of course it was by accident! I didn't even knew about him before! I was trying to fix that stupid... thing when I got angry, I hitted it, and it flew to the ceiling and the hay fell down, with that... owl!" he said, hoping she could understand what he meant, while he motioned the steps with the white paws. He sounded rather stupid, explaining everything for the she-wolf. Actually, he felt weird, mostly because he felt responsible for that little piece of owl. That felt so freaking stupid! One thing was caring about his sisters, other thing was caring about that ugly ball of feathers.
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This boy, he appeared to be a feisty one in his own nature, and Asha had a remarkable ability to sense that. She was keen on figuring out somebody by merely five minutes of conversation with them, and prided herself for such. It instantly brought herself back to when she was about his age, and how her spirits and liveliness were even more brighter than they were currently (and Asha usually kept a pretty optimistic, extroverted persona about himself). Proclaiming that this incident purely stemmed on accident, her amber eyes wandered to the messy scene once more, noting the apparatus used in his anger as it hit the ceiling and the hay came tumbling down with the poor bird. Valid reason enough. His explanation seemed quite flustered and frustrated, and even while he wore something along the lines of a grimace, Asha still kept her smile and collection about herself. "I see then. Well, at least this was the only thing to happen to the poor thing. Broken wings could at least heal, thankfully it was nothing of anything worse..." Death or a fatal injury, however, would have been much harder to correct. Fortunately the boy was only partially responsible for the fall of the hay, and since it was only but a mere wound, there was certainly bright hope for the baby barn owl. Thankfully bones healed at the rate that they did.
Standing up now from her bended knees, the baby barn owl gave another sort of alarming caw in her grasp, in which the poor thing was slightly shaken from both its pain and the sudden presence of these two big creatures that were handling it. Keeping it in her grasp, and letting her fingers gently rub soothingly against its pretty pattern of feathers, the Ayastigi's eyes roamed about the barn in pursuit of some useful tools that the both of them could wield in order to make somewhat of a mini object that could keep the wing straight so that it would heal. Issuing a softly put hmm in her throat, her eyes wandered right back to the flustered boy. "What we need is some small slabs of wood about the length of one of my fingers; maybe even the length of the owl's wing, to keep it on a straight slab so that the wing could heal accordingly without any bends. That, and some string, or rope so that we can fasten the wood on the wing tightly so it'll stay put. Do you think you could try and look around for those things in here?" Asha was no medical genius like the caliber of Dawali or even her sister Aiyanna, but it was common sense enough that it was probably the right thing to do in this case, with the little knowledge she knew for healing bones. "And, we might want to go back out into the harvest garden to see if there's any herbs planted in the grounds, just for supplement sake and internal comfort, you know?" She quipped in, continuously soothing the frightened owl in her grasp. Good job on making yourself actually -sound- like you know what you're doing, even though you really don't. Jaya's voice resonated in her mind, in which she kept a smirk to herself, and lightly shook her head.
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Attila considered what the Dawali's female clone sayed, wondering the other possibilities of the nestling of that dangerous fall. A chill raced through his spine, nearly to the point of raising goose-bumps in his light cream back pelt. Yes, that was very weird for him, thinking about what could happen with someone that he harmed. No, it was completely not him. "Jeez...!", he thought, afraid of himself.
The woman's next -long- speech broke his line of thoughts, of why he was behaving like that. he then realized she was listing the material needed to fix the bird's wing. He made up the list in his mind, and looked around. He placed the head low, sniffing -not sure why, but it helped him to concentrate. He did that technique to whatever he was looking for, either for his coward brother, Claudius, either for his red bandanna he used in the head to keep the tuff of fur out of his eyes. His grayish blue eyes found part of the material: a small amount of rounded branches. They looked like they worked on to look more straight and smooth. He grabbed one in his mouth, now restarting to concentrate in the last one: the string or rope.
After some minutes of searching, he couldn't find a string or rope. It was odd; he always thought to find such things in a barn. But, he did found some fabric. He ripped a strip of it, and brought it to the femme, landing the material requested in her front. He looked to the baby owl, Musing about why in the heck they couldn't find a rope or string there. "That's odd, you know, not having a rope or something like that here. I thought Dawali would supply those kinds of things here...", he thought out loud, not caring about the wolfess' opinion. That was much more like him, not caring about others' thought about him or his behavior. At least, he helped her with the material; he was more likely to let her look for it herself, without caring if she needed help. It didn't mind that, he only felt personally responsible for the small avian.
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All the while there had been an amused smirk plastered across her red maw, watching as how the boy's mind was ticking and grinding its gears in his own thinking process. He was interesting to her, with the way his quirky personality showed through his thinking. Before she knew it, he was already off sniffing around for the said items that Asha deemed would be able to help the baby barn owl. Keeping the little shivering frame in her grasp, she drew it in to where it was against her chest, and began rubbing through its feathers soothingly. Poor thing. Luckily though it was in good hands of both Asha and the boy, for they were going to help this little owl out. It was it's lucky day, and at that, Asha's amber gaze flickered in realization. "Lucky. That's what we'll call this owl." The boy might have thought of Asha to be slightly crazy for talking to herself about giving this owl such a name, but wasn't it suiting for it at this point?
Seeing as how Asha couldn't just let the boy look for materials himself, her eyes roved around the barn to see what was useful. There wasn't too much to work with it, it was either obsolete or too big for the owl entirely. But, the boy happened to find some materials that seemed to be pretty similar to what was said. It was alright if they weren't the exact things, but close enough would work enough, right? "That's fine, it'll be able to work alright if we can tie it firm enough." It was then Asha descended back down on her knees in a squat, nearly eye level with the boy. "Alright. You're going to have to take the straightest branch you got there. The fabic, we'll have to rip into small strips so that each end could be tied around Lucky's wing. If you could do that, i'll help hold out Lucky's wing so you can get the small branch positioned and then we can start tying on the fabic." It was best to leave Asha holding the owl's wing out, for the owl might get a little frustrated and possibly try to snap at the two, and Asha didn't want the owl causing any harm to the boy and making him even more frustrated than he already was.
Taking a deep breath, her fingers moved to the injured wing. Her movements were calculated, calm, and collected, and slowly she took hold of the wing's tip and began to stretch it out. Lucky was not complying whatsoever, and suddenly began flapping and cawing in her grasp. Asha's eyes widened. This was probably going to take some patience and effort. "We've got to be quick with this, or else Lucky here is going to be even more frustrated." Asha attempted to extend the wing once again, opening up as far and straight as it could go, but the owl was making such a riot in Asha's grasp that it was actually a little scary to be handling and trying to take care of such a thrashing bird, but it must be done.
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ooc: --
Lucky? Attila noticed how the woman called the little nestling, and it was a very weird name. The plae boy would take Rex better than that. Sincerly, it was a very dumb name. It had to be more... original. The boy mused for a few seconds about a better name. Well, owls are known as wise animals, related to knowledge. Knowledge recalled the boy of books, which reminded of stories... Hmm...
It took a bit for the boy to remember of what a small book of names had, as he looked hor the meaning of his own and of his siblings. Then, a click sounded inside his mind as he remembered of a promising one... Keen! It meant "Wise poet" in some old human language he couldn't remember. It was also much more interesting than "Lucky". That would be it. Doesn't mind what the woman would think; for him, the owl was Keen.
Then, he was brought back to Earth as the woman said of what he had to do. "Dang it..!" He thought, enraged. He almost imploded with the anger. Those would be so much easier if he could shift... His permanent paws shook with the rage as he tried to rip the strp into a smaller but longer one carefully, though he just wanted to destroy it, to release that anger. But he managed to control it and choose a good-looking stick -as she requested- and set the material.
He watched the woman held out the tip of the bird's wing and strecht it. Soon, the bird relucted, fighting with the strenght pulling his wing out. The Aston boy flinched, imagining the pain it would be causing him. A whimper built in his throath, but it was so choky and repressed that Asha wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't believe he was suffering from the avian's pain. It should be contrary: he'd be laughing at his pain. "WHAT IS GOING ON WITH ME?!?" He thought, now really annoyed with that. What now? He'd get soften up by a stupid nestling?! No way! He frowned, but got ready to end with that as soon as she strech the bird's wing again, trying to focus only on that. He would not let himself feel like that again. It was just riculous!
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Seemingly this boy looked as if he had a lot of internal dialogue going on in his head, just by the tell-tale fact of the expression he was giving himself upon his face. Asha wouldn't care to ask about all the things rummaging through his head, however, as it was indeed none of her business to know and if the boy didn't feel comfortable with talking to a stranger, she wouldn't hold it against him. He seemed quite determine enough to get this baby barn owl wrapped up nicely, and so holding out the wing as best as she could (trying to stabilize it as it created a ruckus of noise and movement once again), she hoped that the boy would be able to make the wrapping neat and quick. "You're doing great, just make sure to wrap it firmly, but not too tight to make Lucky uncomfortable." She noted, coining that little nickname she decided to give it with a grin. Seemingly the owl calmed down by a mere bit, feeling and seeing that its injured wing was getting wrapped. There could be no ruckus made if one wing was outstretched amongst the other; it would simply get in the way of its incessant movement. Asha observed closely as the boy did his magic, waiting for him to complete the task.
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ooc: One more round?
He grimaced as he successifully attatched the bandage in the baby owl, holding his nerves as strong as he could. Ah, it was stupid. Lucky... Keen. Keen, Keen, Keen... His name is Keen, for Christ sake! Lucky... What the hell kind of name was that, for crying out loud...
He tied it as tight as it seemed needed, making a half-ass bow, cursing his belated - in his mind, as he still hadn't the minimun age - shift. How boring it was, not having an opposite thumb. He envied anyone in that form near him. In that situation, it meant his target now was Dawali's femme clone. Better, his daughter. Hmph! He grunted lightly, watching with what looked like a caring father eyes. Well, if that poor crature couldn't have his biological, he could as well have it as him, an adoptive father.
He felt sheepish - no, stupid actually - for thinking like that, but he found out that he could face it. Before that female took the nestling and squeezed him in a hug, he lyed down, his paws forming a circle protecting him from that girl's maternal envied hands, and tried to place it in his head. The poor youngster wouldn't grasp himself in the pale boy's shoulder, and he wouldn't be caring it around in his mouth. Carefully, he equiliobrated the little brat in his head, and it seemed to like, as a confortable chippering came from his head. He laughed once, and got on his feet, careful to don't shake much his head. He could feel the already sharp claws of the owl hold in the tuff of his head, his imaginative mane. It would be good as a nest, as it looked.
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