daybreakacademy

Entry tags:

tobias: animorphs

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Who: Tobias, anyone
What: Birdboy in the days after the Galra plot
When: December 7th onwards
Where: Anywhere on campus, if you want!
Warnings: Harm to small mammals, probable discussion of the kidnapping & all that happened

Winter in France sucks. That's one hawk's very educated opinion, and he's sticking to it. It was not this cold where he used to live. Snow was rare and never lasted long--not to mention that he'd once had clothing and blankets and indoor heating. One of those he can still enjoy, but not when it's time to hunt.

Rude awakenings also suck. He can't recall ever thinking saving the world would be easy and painless, but--he wasn't ready. Maybe he never would have been ready. Could anyone?

What is he to do now? Carry on like nothing happened, it seems. Go to class, study and complete assignments in between classes, hunt when he can. No one is forcing him to, of course. Surely they would understand if he took a couple weeks off. He need only ask... but asking would be dangerously close to admitting his weaknesses. Admitting he can't handle it. Admitting he's in over his head. And that he can never do, not while people need him. It would be the first step down the slippery slope towards losing their trust.

He seems mostly the same as always, going about his usual routines. He's not the most talkative guy, surely no one will notice. He's hungrier than usual, though. Trying for a couple extra kills each day. Gotta gain back the weight he lost--he needs it to deal with the cold.

Unfortunately on top of everything else, the snow is not making it easy. Not as many small animals out and about. At least they're easy to spot against the white background. His latest hunt begins like any other. A sudden dive off of his perch and towards a mouse who suspects nothing, talons gripping it moments later, about to squeeze...

But it bites him with surprisingly sharp little teeth before he can end it and he drops it reflexively. Lucky mouse, unlucky hawk. It's hidden before he has a chance to try again. He should have been faster to kill...

< Great. Good going, me. >

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Big mood, little dude.

[Look, sometimes you just casually respond to the telepathic bird voice, it's whatever. You get used to it.]

[For some reason, despite the fact that it's literally a snowy December day, Jail is still not wearing sleeves. Doesn't matter if the sun's out, she's still got these guns out.]

[But if she's stopping to chat, the cold probably isn't bothering her that much.]

[There's another thing--he's easier to spot when the trees have no leaves. Only one hawk on campus.]

< Oh. Hey. Aren't you cold? >

[Jail grins, and taps the sleeveless turtleneck she's wearing.]

Amazing what a little runework in the stitching can do, huh?

[Sure enough, the pattern of the knitting does make some distinctly magical shapes. It'd probably be easier and faster to just wear a normal sweater, but that's no fun.]

How 'bout you? Feather coat doing the trick, or are you gonna be in the market for a teeny hat and scarf?

[Oh, he agrees. Why do things the mundane way when you have magic?]

< Thanks, but I feel like that'd be more of a nuisance than anything. Getting caught on branches and messing up my feathers. >

Are you hungry?

[ There's a lot of food to eat, and Vivi's tried a lot of things, but he hasn't gone so far as to eat animals raw (...well, that he knows of. The Outlands are weird). ]

I can get you something.

[ The hawk has been nice to him, after all. He wants to be nice back. ]

[Oh, geez. How to tell a sweet nine (?) year old kid you eat adorable fuzzy animals. Not that it's hard to figure out after what he just did, but saying it?]

< Uh. I don't know. I don't... really eat 'people food'. >

Does that mean you eat animal food? I can get that too! I think there's a pet store in the town down there...

[ He's pretty sure there's a pet store in town? It's kind of weird though. ]

< No, I mean meat. Just raw meat. Anything else might make me sick. >

[Cooked meat would be fine, in theory, if he knew more about what extra flavorings he can eat and what he can't...]

Okay, I see your point here, but have you considered: [She spreads her hands dramatically.] It would look cool.

[What other justification do you need, really.]

< The cold only really gets in if my feathers are messed up, so I'd actually be less warm... > [Only way he can think to explain the way air is trapped underneath his feathers, keeping out the chill.

Hmm...] < My legs don't have any feathers. >

[Jail pauses, staring into the middle distance as though she has had a sudden and powerful revelation.]

Tiny legwarmers...

[Jail. Jail, please. Hasn't this poor bird been through enough without you inflicting terrible early nineties fashion decisions on him?]

< Those are the things like sleeves for your legs, right? Yeah, why not? >

[Why not, indeed. He's never worn anything modern or trendy in his life.]

Oh! Okay.

...Um. Like any raw meat, or...? [ What do you feed a hawk that you can also get from a school kitchen? Chicken? Beef? Pork? Do birds like this eat pork...?? ]

< Any raw meat. >

[This feels strange. Wrong. For pity's sake, he's just a little kid.]

< But you don't have to go to any trouble. I'll get another chance sooner or later. >

It's okay! I want to. [ He pauses, like he's considering why this might be troublesome in any way. ] Um, I'm not afraid of handling raw meat or anything! I just didn't want to get something that would make you sick.

[ He runs off and returns with 'basically whatever he could ask for on short notice', which turns out to be a bowl of raw beef scraps. Someone may have been under the impression he wanted to feed a dog or something.

He places the bowl on the ground. ]

[The hawk is still there on the exact same branch, having gone back to scanning the ground for any movement. If a whisker so much as twitches down there, he'll see it. But so far, no luck.

Until the kid comes back with a feast.]

< Oh. > [He almost sounds surprised.] < You did it. Thanks, kid. >

[He swoops down to land beside the bowl...]

[Ignoring the irony of anyone asking her about sleeves, Jail nods.] Yeah, basically. Sorta like a sock, but there's a hole at both ends?

[There are probably legwarmers out there that don't come in obnoxious neon colors, but there's pretty much zero chance of her showing him any of them.]

< It's out of the way and hopefully won't get dirty. Why not? >

[Magic. Magic is still wonderful, despite everything. The more he can use, the better.]

Uh-huh.

[ Rather than leaving, he sits nearby and takes out what looks like his own lunch. It appears to be a haphazardly cut sandwich. ]

Is it okay if we eat together? I like to eat with people. It's less lonely that way.

If you want to be alone, that's okay too, though. [ He just likes keeping people company. Plus, it's cold outside and eating outside...by yourself...when it's cold? Sounds kind of sad? ]

That's the spirit.

[It is?]

[Jail pauses, a thought occurring to her.]

Y'know, crochet is mostly working with hooks, 'stead of straight needles like knitting. [She gestures at his sharp, curved claws.] Might actually have a natural talent for it, if you wanna try.

[It's a disgusting sight, a bird ripping apart bloody chunks of meat and swallowing them whole. But apparently the kid doesn't mind, so...

It doesn't muffle his 'voice' any, of course.]

< Uh, sure. You're not cold or anything? I guess you have a lot of layers on. >

< Huh. Didn't know that. >

[Actually, he didn't. He cocks his head, considering.]

< With one foot, though? Because otherwise I'd have to lie on my back or something, and there's only so long I can do that before I get stiff. >

[She gives the issue due consideration.]

Maybe we could make you a tiny chair or something?

< You could. Depends on how badly people want to see a bird crocheting, I suppose. >

[Though it could make for good gifts next Christmas. If they make it that long.]

Doesn't matter how weird or obscure a concept is, there's always gonna be someone out there who's super into it. That's why the internet exists.

[It's good for his cover that he never really had a smartphone or computer before, honestly. Until now. He never considers the internet first.]

< I'd totally be down for making a video, if people weren't so crazy about 'secrecy' and the veil. >

[Jail sighs, and shakes her head mock-solemnly.]

Maybe someday, youtube'll be ready for the truth. ...just don't read the comments section.

[Wryly:] < Because they'll find some way to twist it into being animal abuse? >

[Jail, for her sins, has a sudden vivid flashback to the Bird In A Chocolate Fountain post.]

It's the internet. You'll be lucky if that's as far as it goes.

I'm okay! It's not too cold. [ He takes a bite out of his sandwich. ] Is it cold for you, though? [ The nice bird hadn't said anything, but then again, birds don't wear clothes, so they have less layers... ]

< No, not really. It doesn't reach my skin, I have feathers. >

[Puffed up against the cold, nice and fluffy, trapping the warmth inside.]

< Don't you have some feathers yourself? > [Let's not mention the only reason he knows this is because the kid was pulling them out...]

[Let him die innocent and free.]

< Oookay. I won't read the comments then, in my hypothetical video future. >

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