He stood frozen, waiting for that moment of recognition, that flash of realization - either glad or angry - from the lovely (had she always been that beautiful?) woman kneeling on the bare earth. When she made no move towards him or evinced anything other than curiosity he fluffed his feathers and began to preen them back into place self-consciously, wondering what to do now that he'd been 'caught.' The compliment, when it come, was wholly unexpected and he looked at Rexanna sharply. He didn't have ears to perk forwards so he settled for tilting his head to the side, clicking his beak as he considered what she'd said. Pretty? All feathers and scaly feet and too-large beak? Well. Rexanna was a kind woman, and too generous - or wasn't that why Frey had cursed her? Only... the words had sounded sincere, rather than laced with innuendo.
Very curious now, he stayed where he was while she toyed with the shovel. The invitation was met with a lilting croak of uncertainty - dare he stay? Was he already pushing his luck? - but he didn't try to fly away just yet. What was she up to? And what would she need his help for? She was strong - likely stronger than he was! - and had a history of competence that he had quite admired. Hopping tentatively closer he looked into the hole she'd started digging, cocking his head to eye the roots, then her little shovel. Clacking his beak consideringly, he crouched and grasped a root, tugging at it first to see how fixed it was.
Quite a bit, as it turned out. Croaking in annoyance, he pecked at the farthest back part of the root she had unearthed, then closed his whole back around it, trying to snap the old wood through sheer force of stubbornness.
Very curious now, he stayed where he was while she toyed with the shovel. The invitation was met with a lilting croak of uncertainty - dare he stay? Was he already pushing his luck? - but he didn't try to fly away just yet. What was she up to? And what would she need his help for? She was strong - likely stronger than he was! - and had a history of competence that he had quite admired. Hopping tentatively closer he looked into the hole she'd started digging, cocking his head to eye the roots, then her little shovel. Clacking his beak consideringly, he crouched and grasped a root, tugging at it first to see how fixed it was.
Quite a bit, as it turned out. Croaking in annoyance, he pecked at the farthest back part of the root she had unearthed, then closed his whole back around it, trying to snap the old wood through sheer force of stubbornness.
