[Training] there is algebra in gasoline

Grass stretches below as far as the eye can see - and given that Callum is soaring upon the thermals in his falcon form, he can see quite far indeed. Burial mounds dot the landscape, hundreds of them poking out of the ground like so many stone sculptures of the departed. Mist envelops the area, muffling sound, but Callum has never needed sound to hunt in this form. He just needs his eyes and his talons and his beak.

He wheels on the breeze, turning to scan a new section of the Barrows. Every once in a while, his attention flickers up from the ground far below, keeping an eye on his in-air surroundings, as well. So far, he's seen a whole lot of nothing, perhaps thanks to the rain clouds that blanket the sky, threatening a downpour at any given moment. He hopes it holds off a little longer, if only so that he can enjoy the feel of the wind ruffling his feathers a little more.

Movement below: a rabbit, hopping uneasily through the grass. Callum hones in on the creature, contemplating. He doesn't really need the rabbit, and he's never been one to kill for pleasure. After a moment's consideration, he turns his gaze away, leaving the rabbit be.

With quiet words I'll lead you in and out of the dark

The wind curled beneath Noah’s wings, carrying him higher over the wild expanse of King's End. The earth below blurred in patches of green and gold—fields, brush, and the faint glimmer of a creek winding like glass through the land. His eyes, sharp as a blade, caught the tremor of motion in the grass.

A rabbit broke from cover, its body a pale flash darting through shadow. He wondered if it was a blink hare, or a regular rabbit. He couldn't tell from this high up unless it chose to blink. Either way, to the Sentinel it looked like a promising meal. His muscles tightened, wings adjusting ever so slightly, body poised for the stoop—a dive that could end a heartbeat.

But there was movement up here, too. Another falcon wheeled into view. Smaller than him, built for ruthless speed, it moved with precision. Noah’s wings tilted, the stoop forgotten. He circled instead, watching the other.

noah

The rabbit disappears into the brush, but Callum's attention is no longer on the creature below. No, his gaze has landed on a fellow bird - another falcon, by the looks of it. It's bigger than Cal, but the Attuned thinks his size might allow him to outmaneuver the other if it gets any bright ideas like trying to attack him. And it might be about to do just that, he thinks as the other bird begins to circle him. Cal arcs into a smooth circle of his own, dark eyes catching the other's. If it thinks he will be an easy meal, it has another thing coming.

They circle, and time seems to stand still as Cal sizes up the competition. It doesn't occur to him that this might be another Attuned; instead, he readies himself for any potential attack. It seems almost inevitable now, especially with the way the other falcon has stayed its course, seeming to watch him just as keenly as he watches it. But still he waits, on the off chance the other falcon breaks away, reluctant to engage in a battle he isn't sure he'll win.

With quiet words I'll lead you in and out of the dark

Noah held his circle steady, broad wings cutting smooth arcs through the air. The smaller falcon matched him turn for turn, dark eyes fixed on him with an intensity that felt pointed. He let the wind buoy him a little higher, widening the distance without breaking contact. Then, cautiously, he sent a thread of thought outward like a careful hand extended toward a skittish creature.

Can you hear me? The question slipped across the Attuned bond, a quiet pulse meant only for one who was touched by the gods. Wild birds never answered. I’m not hunting you. He added. The Sentinel did not stoop, did not press closer, but simply held his glide and waited.

noah

Hey, what's that? Out of the corner of your eye, you see a colourful, hand-painted egg. Perhaps it's sitting amidst some flowers, on a tree branch, next to a river, or in a merchant's shop, but wherever it is, it doesn't seem to be accidentally placed there. On one side you see a painted hot air balloon. Maybe it has something to do with the upcoming festival!

Go ahead and pick it up!

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You've found a painted egg!. Whoever is next to post in this thread will be the first one to see the egg, but if they wish to give it to someone else, they're more than welcome! No need to post in account updates, just keep track of this thread and pick up your egg IC!

Callum circles, and circles, and circles some more; time ticks away as he stares down the other hawk, neither one advancing or retreating. It isn't until a voice rings out across the Attuned bond that surprise ripples out from the mercenary, and perhaps a bit of sheepishness that he hadn't thought to try to communicate with the other hawk first. That's a relief, he replies smoothly, tamping down on his emotions and settling for amusement. I was beginning to wonder.

With that seemingly settled, something catches Callum's attention: a painted egg (the fuck?) nestled into the grass of the Barrows. Interesting, but bizarre. Are you hunting eggs, by chance? he asks conversationally, gesturing pointedly with his beak towards the item. And if so, might I suggest a friendly airborne spar for that one?

With quiet words I'll lead you in and out of the dark

Amusement brushed across the bond, subtle but sure, and Noah let it settle into him like a small easing of tension. The smaller falcon’s pointed gesture drew his eye downward. There was an egg, bright and unmistakably painted, tucked absurdly among the Barrows’ scrub. Not unlike the ones that the mud monster had left behind. A huff of breath slipped from him, more felt than heard. Not hunting eggs, either, he admitted, banking just enough to signal his intent, but I won’t turn down a challenge.

The wind sharpened around him as he drew himself higher, climbing fast, letting altitude spool into advantage. For a heartbeat he hovered there with his broad wings tense, body aligned with the clean line of the sky. Then he folded. The stoop began as a controlled drop, then became a spear of momentum. Air roared along his plumage, white and gray flashing as he arrowed past Callum’s current line of flight, forcing the smaller falcon to shift or be clipped outright.


But Callum didn’t follow, didn’t come in. Instead, Noah felt the pull and absence over the attuned bond. When he looked back after arcing, the other attuned was gone. 

FIN

noah