May your past be the sound
He would've smirked had his avian form had lips that could twist and contort into an expression other than 'intense stare', as the woman completed her magical intervention and turned to behold his feathered form. He tilted his head, letting it turn almost upside down before tilting it the other way, clicking his beak as his wings lifted slightly from his sides and his feathers puffed up. Then, he gave a whole body shake, sending droplets flying all around him, before returning his icy gaze to her.
As much as Chuy would like to toy with her, he was too honest, too kind-hearted, unable to watch a comrade linger in uncertainty for longer than necessary, when he held the clarity that would alleviate the confusion. So he spread his wings, and made to hop off the fence post - but instead of taking flight, he shifted, human legs stretching to stand beneath his torso, arms spread out wide, mimicking the wingspan they previously held, his expression akin to that of 'ta-da'.
"Hey Morgan," he greeted, letting the formal title he might normally address her by under other situations drop to the wayside for this moment. He looked out over the field she had dampened, at the relief on the farmers' faces as the rest of their day looked infinitely easier with the softened earth they could now work with. "Neat trick," he commented, wandering to pick up a spare shovel, as a way of indicating he'd hang around, to help out, and chat, if she wanted to.
"My homeland was in the grips of a drought for the majority of the last few decades," he said conversationally, perhaps to explain why magic, and in particular water magic always fascinated him. "To be able to conjure up and control water like that… Well, this world sure is different to what I came from." He leaned the shovel into the ground, testing how soft Morgan's efforts had made it, satisfied when it he turned the soil with relative ease.
As much as Chuy would like to toy with her, he was too honest, too kind-hearted, unable to watch a comrade linger in uncertainty for longer than necessary, when he held the clarity that would alleviate the confusion. So he spread his wings, and made to hop off the fence post - but instead of taking flight, he shifted, human legs stretching to stand beneath his torso, arms spread out wide, mimicking the wingspan they previously held, his expression akin to that of 'ta-da'.
"Hey Morgan," he greeted, letting the formal title he might normally address her by under other situations drop to the wayside for this moment. He looked out over the field she had dampened, at the relief on the farmers' faces as the rest of their day looked infinitely easier with the softened earth they could now work with. "Neat trick," he commented, wandering to pick up a spare shovel, as a way of indicating he'd hang around, to help out, and chat, if she wanted to.
"My homeland was in the grips of a drought for the majority of the last few decades," he said conversationally, perhaps to explain why magic, and in particular water magic always fascinated him. "To be able to conjure up and control water like that… Well, this world sure is different to what I came from." He leaned the shovel into the ground, testing how soft Morgan's efforts had made it, satisfied when it he turned the soil with relative ease.
of your feet upon the ground
CHULANE
