We've got the right to live, fight to use it
He watched her. He listened to her. He tilted his head and ruffled his feathers more.
He let her wait.
Then, he clicked his beak once more, just for the drama of it—then shimmered.
Feathers folded into skin, heat retreating inward, until Soren crouched atop the roof in his human form, all dark tousled hair and wiry limbs. “I’m quite comfortable up here, thanks,” he called down, voice dry and unmistakably human. “No cricks in my neck.” Soren grinned, youth on his side. “What gave me away?" He asked, though he knew that birds of prey that held the nature of his shift were not native to King's End--there was just so much fun in the game he started in his own head, with his own words.
But he wasn't coming down. He'd found the well first.
He let her wait.
Then, he clicked his beak once more, just for the drama of it—then shimmered.
Feathers folded into skin, heat retreating inward, until Soren crouched atop the roof in his human form, all dark tousled hair and wiry limbs. “I’m quite comfortable up here, thanks,” he called down, voice dry and unmistakably human. “No cricks in my neck.” Soren grinned, youth on his side. “What gave me away?" He asked, though he knew that birds of prey that held the nature of his shift were not native to King's End--there was just so much fun in the game he started in his own head, with his own words.
But he wasn't coming down. He'd found the well first.
Soren
