[Farmlands] Give a Mage a Bone

[Hadrian]

62nd Spring, 512 A.V. It wasn't until the sky began to darken that he realized he would break curfew again, but it had been nice to walk among the fields of wheat and flax, just letting his mind roam as his feet did the same. He was confident he could sneak back inside, cloaked in illusion, aura damped. There was no need for concern. For now he sat under an apple tree to watch the sun go down, Syna bidding them all farewell until the morrow. A flash of white caught the corner of his eye and he reached down to pick up the skull of some small animal, the bone bleached white. Its aura gave him the distinct impression it had come from a squirrel, and he squinted up into the branches of the tree to see if there was anything inhabiting it just then. He pulled his carving knife out of his satchel and began to trace the idea of a circle into the biggest, flattest part of the little thing. From its remnants of soul, he could sense that the little beast had died during mating season, body full of lust, when a raptor of some sort swooped in and made a meal of him. Several of the teeth were missing, and he supposed whatever had eaten the little fellow had been content with the meat on his bones rather than the organ in his skull, leaving him a bit to work with. Focusing on that sense of lust, he began to etch tiny glyphs into the thing, remembering briefly his short apprenticeship with Tieh of Sahova. It was just a little practice, and perhaps he would leave it out to attract squirrels to that tree when in the mood for love, giving any raptors thereabouts a source of food. They needn't thank him for his generosity.

[Yve]

Her gizzard was full and at work from the meal she'd caught just a few bells before. She could feel the little muscle working as it packed the fur and bits of bone of the fat chipmunk into a pellet, while the meat was settling comfortably in her stomach. The apple tree she was roosting in was stout and healthy, with thick leaves to conceal her. Young fruit was budding in the branches. It would be a while before they were ripe enough to eat. She'd been lulled into a light sleep where she perched on one of the branches - her eyes were closed and her head was nestled close to her shoulder, her beak hanging slightly open. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Yve's eyes opened blearily at the sound and she blinked rapidly, ruffling her feathers to wake herself. Her head swiveled from side to side as she listened, hearing the incessant scraping. It was like a quil on parchment. Absently she noticed how late it had gotten - she'd been asleep longer than it seemed. It wouldn't be a problem getting back into the city though, she'd just fly over the walls. Curiosity perked, she decided to investigate the noise. Her wings opened minimally for balance as she awkwardly hopped to a branch below. Then another, and other until she'd hopped around the trunk to the lower limbs like a spiral staircase. It was a loud process - her talons scraped the branches and the leaves rustled against her and each other. She peered down at the man sitting below her. He was scratching on the skull of a rodent with a knife. Clumsily, she shuffled further along the branch so she could get a better look. Her keen eyesight picked out designs on the little stained bone. She noted it was of the chipmunk she'd killed earlier, picked clean with the help of carrion. A pair of crows had finished most of the rest of the rodent's body, skin and all, after she went up to roost. Yve wanted to ask what he was doing, but she didn't quite feel like changing just yet. She'd learned that suddenly having a naked woman approach you didn't gauge the best reactions out of people. Instead, she stretched out her wings and hopping off the branch, flapping strongly to help her land neatly a few yards from the man's feet. She studied him with large black eyes, tilting her heart shaped head to an extreme angle that only an owl could manage. The thought that a human might think an owl landing in front of them would be a surprise escaped her - and she was too curious to care anyway.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian seemed nonplussed by the appearance of the owl. Indeed, once the chipmunk had died, its flesh and bones began to pick up contributions left behind by the one who killed it: this owl. Standing before him so curiously, he could see the overlay of an aura that looked distinctly human that, paired with an owl's, made it clear she was a Kelvic. Of course, he had spent a deal of time with Kelvics and learned to spot them from their auras if nothing in their behavior gave them away. He tried to smile, though he always felt awkward doing so. "Hello, little hunter," he said in Common. "I hope you didn't want the skull. I'm just making a charm out of it. If all goes to plan, it will lure more chipmunks into this tree to mate, which would insure you a steady diet. "No charge," he added, because Ethan was always sure to be helpful so he didn't feel indebted to Hadrian, and he wasn't sure if all Kelvics were like that. "You can come closer if you want to watch. I won't hurt you." The light was going, but he could sense without his eyes: the structure of the skull, the fading life energies, the potential each scratch of his knife inscribed upon it. This would be a simple malediction, or legacy as Tieh had called it, but simple was good for practice anyway.