A smile spread on his face when the owlkitten in question decided to chime in, with lyrics of her own. He didn't know what she was singing about, but for being a juvenile and a creature she was doing remarkably well. He tried to keep the rhythm and structure to something that made even a little sense, and he was surprised to find that most of the time, she managed to anticipate what he was going to sing—at least when it came to pitch and cadence.
Then came the sort of warbling and incredibly alien voice of the fox: a sound he knew mostly as eerie or distant, but now it was being produced right next to him, and as a sort of harmonization. Rory's eyebrows raised. A fox wasn't made to sing but it managed rather well in spite of that. A slight shiver traveled down his spine. Had it been under different circumstances, the fox's song would've been haunting, but as it was now.. well, it was just silly.
So, as the Luxere was drawn in by the curious and undignified little group of singers, Rory's song morphed from a tale of hill-climbing to one of silly singing. He didn't always figure out where to take the lyrics; sometimes they didn't rhyme as they should, sometimes there were too many—or too few—syllables, and sometimes he included lines about that he didn't know what to sing next.
It came to mostly be about an owlcat exploring the world and singing to glowing deer, and about the little gryphon in general: the world's smallest biggest gryphon, who couldn't fly yet but would kill you with her charm. Or enslave you into eternal petting, if you felt less dark.
Then came the sort of warbling and incredibly alien voice of the fox: a sound he knew mostly as eerie or distant, but now it was being produced right next to him, and as a sort of harmonization. Rory's eyebrows raised. A fox wasn't made to sing but it managed rather well in spite of that. A slight shiver traveled down his spine. Had it been under different circumstances, the fox's song would've been haunting, but as it was now.. well, it was just silly.
So, as the Luxere was drawn in by the curious and undignified little group of singers, Rory's song morphed from a tale of hill-climbing to one of silly singing. He didn't always figure out where to take the lyrics; sometimes they didn't rhyme as they should, sometimes there were too many—or too few—syllables, and sometimes he included lines about that he didn't know what to sing next.
It came to mostly be about an owlcat exploring the world and singing to glowing deer, and about the little gryphon in general: the world's smallest biggest gryphon, who couldn't fly yet but would kill you with her charm. Or enslave you into eternal petting, if you felt less dark.
