DracoStryx Scavenging: Beauty | Teapot, Badallaioc, (Laverito)

Laverito = Laverito (rider)

Badallaioc = Badallaioc

Teapot = the casua (owned by SheepMomther)

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Laverito was a bit unusual - in several ways, not the least of which was his six-limbed (and tailed besides) appearance. But he was also unusual in that he'd been more made than born. His mother, see, had cooked up a few light snacks for a midnight feast...

 

Well, that was a complicated story.

 

Being made, however, had certain advantages. He could move in ways one might not expect. He could use magic that others might not know. And, he could learn and speak languages that others would never even realize to be languages.

 

Because Laverito and Badallaioc were by now long acquainted, Laverito had learned to understand and speak in the clatter-chatter tongue of stryx.

 

In this case, it didn't help very much. Their companion, a casua like Badallaioc, and yet so incredibly unlike Badallaioc, had not once spoken. Not a single sound had left that pale pink beak. Blue eyes tracked their movements with clearly apparent intellect, but not one word was uttered, whether a word Laverito knew, or not.

 

But the casua was a resourceful, observant, and astonishingly nimble creature. Out of the forest were brought many little gifts, to Laverito and Badallaioc alike: wildflowers, berries, smooth pebbles, shapely leaves, and sticks so straight that they could've been fletched into arrows. 

 

It was driving Badallaioc to distraction, and Laverito could barely contain his laughter.

 

Through the soft and sweet-smelling grass, the two stryx searched. The casua moved with an aloof air, completely at ease. Badallaioc stomped between the trees like an angry mountain troll whose mutton had been pilfered. Although dawn had barely cracked, and Laverito was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, the whole situation was too entertaining to even think of going back to sleep. 

 

Rubbing his hands together to ward off the past night's chill, Laverito offered a mirthful, "Ahh, don't worry Badallaioc, something nice'll turn up soon. Just keep henning away at it."

 

Laverito's accent when speaking stryx was terrible. He knew it full well, because Badallaoic frequently reminded him so, but Laverito couldn't grow himself a beak very easily. He'd just have to continue trying his best at spitting out words meant to be formed by beaks. At least he made some sense to Badallaioc, and really, that was all he needed.

 

Badallaioc neglected to provide any reminder of Laverito's terrible accent, being far too focused on his search through the undergrowth. Badallaioc's immense body made quite a sight, gingerly raking talons through grass and roots, poking around the stunted trees that walled in this forest clearing. "Hush, rabbit," Badallaioc spat. "Busy."

 

Laverito gnawed on a piece of stolen jerky, and watched in silent glee.

 

The casua moved with a preternatural grace, calm and methodical. The brown-taloned thumbs at the ends of feathered arms delicately inspected leaves and grass. Occasionally, equally brown-colored talons would shift forwards and scratch at the earth. The ground was still cold, nowhere near being warmed by the weak light of dawn, and it leeched the heat right out of Laverito's own fuzzy toes. 

 

Badallaioc unleashed an endless litany of grumbles and clicks, punctuated by an irritated clatter of his beak when any part of his search proved particularly disappointing. In direct contrast to the casua, Badallaioc's movements were sharp and quick, and involved a lot more tearing up of the grass. 

 

With exacting precision, the casua loosened a particular stone. Presently, the stone was flipped over, revealing the bare dirt beneath and unleashing a swirl of dust. Here, a cautious scratch, and there, a precise peck. And voila! The casua pulled something free - not a pebble or twig this time, no. Here was something that glinted as the light of dawn caught it; it was an old, rusted belt buckle. Possibly useful, as a distraction to throw if nothing else.

 

The casua ambled over and placed the belt buckle in front of Badallaioc, who stared at it in abject dismay. 

 

Laverito felt like a kettle, dangerously near to boiling over with laughter. 

 

Badallaioc craned his long neck to glare venomously at Laverito - squinting so hard that Laverito wasn't sure he could actually see anything. 

 

Laverito managed not to laugh.

 

The overgrown wolpertinger hopped across the clearing to where Badallaioc was back to trying to beat the loot out of a particularly unfortunate tree, and patted Badallaioc's side. Laverito's small hand sank into Badallaioc's overly puffy silken feathers and nearly vanished entirely. "There, there," Laverito consoled. "I'm sure there's a spoon or the like hereabouts. You'll scare it out of hiding eventually."

 

Badallaioc glared again, and Laverito felt that special feeling again, the one of being a five-foot jackrabbit standing next to an apex predator who could swallow him in one bite if determined enough. 

 

But, never one to be outdone, Badallaioc returned to his mission. This particular tree, though small, harbored an interesting nook in its roots, and Badallaioc set to investigating it. First he scrabbled around with his thumbs, leaning down so he could reach properly. Then he lowered his head nearly to the ground and twisted around to peer in there. Making a sharp noise, Badallaioc reached in again with one thumb, wiggling around until something was caught. 

 

Out came the latest discovery, flaking and reddish-brown all over, pinched in the joint of a single red thumb. 

 

Laverito threw his head back and cackled, long fuzzy ears shaking with his mirth. "A spoon!" he chortled. "It really is a spoon! How did I know?"

 

Badallaioc muttered a very crude insult and dropped the spoon on Laverito's fuzzy-toed foot. Then Badallaioc stomped across the clearing to search the other side, all but hiding in the long grass as he vengefully rustled through the undergrowth in search of something better than a spoon. 

 

Laverito turned, to find the casua standing beside him, head tilted in evident question. Laverito backed up, carefully stooped down to pick up the spoon, and held the thing out with the very tips of his fingers, ready to bolt if necessary. Thus far, the casua had been nothing but friendly. In fact, Laverito couldn't list a single aggressive movement made: no posturing, no puffing of feathers, no brandishing of teeth, not even an investigative peck in Laverito's general direction.

 

But still, the casua seemed to be a wild stryx, being that no companion of the humanoid sort had appeared, and no tack was apparent anywhere on the scallop-feathered body. Laverito wasn't about to trust anything wild, not as far as he could throw it. Being more than a little wild himself, he firmly believed that he knew better than that.

 

The spoon didn't hold as much interest to the casua as it did to Laverito, though. Instead of paying the object much mind, the casua tip-taloned towards Laverito to gently prod at his slim-fingered wings with a closed pink beak. Laverito flapped his flightless limbs, and the casua flapped back with feathered versions.

 

"You make a good point," Laverito said, unable to hold back a little grin. "We're two of a flightless kind, we are. And both downright beautiful, too!”