Everest
I see. There’s no judgement—no surprise, even—as the eagle bobs his head in a slow, precise nod. It’s not an odd confession. It’s simply a variable. One that clarifies the dataset and sharpens the parameters of whatever this small mystery is. He logs it silently: first avian, no successful flight attempts, wing coordination issues.
She flails—ungracefully, chaotically, determinedly—and he watches with sharp, steady eyes. Each collision is registered. Each beat that knocks the others off-course is filed away. The feathers blur into a kaleidoscope of motion, but the patterns within are all he focuses on. When she finishes, he doesn’t react right away. Instead, the eagle tilts his head in that mechanical little way, one eye trained on her wings with unwavering focus. Do they always move together? he asks finally, voice transmitted gently through the bond. When you try to flap, are all six reacting at once—or can you mopve one set at a time?
Another pause, more analytical this time. If we can isolate control over smaller groups, we may be able to create stability. Like rowing in sync, rather than splashing in every direction. His tone holds no mockery. If anything, there's the quiet, warm undercurrent of someone genuinely engaged in solving a puzzle. One with feathers.
She flails—ungracefully, chaotically, determinedly—and he watches with sharp, steady eyes. Each collision is registered. Each beat that knocks the others off-course is filed away. The feathers blur into a kaleidoscope of motion, but the patterns within are all he focuses on. When she finishes, he doesn’t react right away. Instead, the eagle tilts his head in that mechanical little way, one eye trained on her wings with unwavering focus. Do they always move together? he asks finally, voice transmitted gently through the bond. When you try to flap, are all six reacting at once—or can you mopve one set at a time?
Another pause, more analytical this time. If we can isolate control over smaller groups, we may be able to create stability. Like rowing in sync, rather than splashing in every direction. His tone holds no mockery. If anything, there's the quiet, warm undercurrent of someone genuinely engaged in solving a puzzle. One with feathers.
If I told you that you'd do nothing with it
I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
I'd still be that cigarette that you couldn't finish
