Them Bones

[Rilian]

Winter 35th, 512 Midafteroon. Even buildings could die. Rilian had seen it after the storm had ripped Ravok apart. Swells of water had ripped through homes and bridges as if given fierce sets of claws. Violent winds, enough to break Rilian's body and beat him down from the sky, had done much worse to the humans standing down below. After it was over, even months after decaying bodies were cleared from the streets, the corpses of Ravok remained. The Temple most notably, had been flayed open like a rib cage. Here in this place, far from Ravok, were mangled remains of human-built structures. Rilian did not think to relate the two, only that houses made of wood and stone were no different from trees and mountain ridges. They could still be uprooted, and they could still crumble. And yet life continued, as it always did, feeding on the bones of the departed. And Rilian, as usual, sailed overhead, searching for scraps of his own. He was competing with gulls over Zeltiva's refuse. It was nearly insulting. But oh, how they scattered once Rilian arrived for his share. Gulls were persistent things though. Once Rilian was more a mound of feathers than massive, beating wings, they would be brave enough to return, and bold enough to pluck the food right out of Rilian's beak. Not today. Today, with a hard-won half of a rotting fish in his mouth, Rilian was taking his lunch somewhere safe, where he could eat at his leisure. It was a practical alternative to choking on fish bones trying to eat in a hurry. There was a place in the city where children played every day. There had been no places like this in Ravok, where children were kept inside or pushed into places for learning. Warmly endeared to the sight of children playing, Rilian selected a perch upon the crumbling remains of what once looked to be a chapel. In between mouthfuls of pungent fish, he lifted his gray head to watch them. Like a parent observing his children.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian was still getting accustomed to his return to Zeltiva, to the University, and to the Farson Home. Miss Thea had been surprised to see him back, not trucking with academic types, but Vasos and Lily and the others were quicker to welcome his return. To their minds, it was good to have him there as he was proof that Lord Maria was committed to the endurance of their good works.

The children, too, had looked askance at his return, but his key to the gates still worked, and his shields had guarded them all unknowing. Some might say he was not doing his job, but he did it in the best way he knew how, quietly and ...

A little boy, just old enough to remember Hadrian from the hot days of Summer, ran up through the gritty snow to hug on his leg, the force of which knocked the knitted hat off his head. Bemused, Hadrian ruffled the sandy hair and stooped down to pick up the hate without disturbing the whimsical embrace, and he tugged it down over the boy's head.

"You have to keep warm, Grigor," he admonished in a quiet voice, more kind than most people ever heard from him.

"Love you, Mister Adri," he crowed with the abandon of youth. He grinned up with a perfection of baby teeth. A silent chuckle shook Hadrian's crane-like frame, still unused to the strange, unconditional love that poured out of some of these children. No wonder Miss Thea spent her life caring for these children; it was difficult not to want to be a better person when someone believed you already were. He just sort of rolled with the various iterations of his name, subject to adulteration due to whatever speech impediments the children may have, or just being so young.

"I love you too, Grigor," he said simply. "But don't tell. I'm supposed to be mean and scary to keep you all safe. Run along now." Once Grigor loosed his hold, Hadrian gave him a gentle nudge between the shoulders and little Grigor ran off to join the other children in something somewhere between snow-fort building and all out snowball war.

Hadrian watched for a time, then looked up at the main structure of the Home itself. The West Wing was still in disrepair from the djed storm and before that, too. Most all activity was currently in the East Wing, but hopefully come Spring he would have the time and resources to start rebuilding. In his inspection of the place, his eyes caught sight of a vulture making a meal up on a crumbly bit of the West Wing where the chapel used to be.

Though his eyes began to pass over what was not exactly an impossible sight, a niggling sense of something off tugged them back. His auristics had gotten so tied up with the rest of his senses that there was almost always a vague awareness of the auras around him, as well as the djed itself, as steeped in magic as he was over the years. There was that dual aura going on that he had come to associate with Kelvics.

"Huh." He disappeared inside for a few minutes, and then returned with package of waxed paper. He detested waste, and normally the Home didn't have enough food to go bad, but someone had sold them meat that was older than they said, and it had begun to go rancid. He would not have it fed to the children, but a vulture...

He set the package on the highest bit of ruined stone he could find, tearing it open so the reek hit the sea air. Then he stepped back and waved to the Kelvic with a faint half-smile before putting some distance between the food and himself; Kelvics could be reasonably suspicious, after all.

Hadrian went back to watching the children. The offer was made in good faith, and without strings attached. If the vulture didn't want it, well, it was already going bad.

[Rilian]

The fish was gone before Rilian would have liked. Soon he was swallowing the last morsels of flavor and wiping the sides of his beak on the crumbling stone. Slightly less hungry than he'd been moments earlier, Rilian hesitated before leaving. The children were bundled up against the cold, wrapped in cotton and wool, fattening their forms to comical proportions. Rilian cleaned the dirt out of one talon as he lingered to observe them. It made him worry for them. It was never nearly so brisk in Ravok, but then he'd always known that the world was so much crueler beyond the lake. Still, humans were hardy things, ever bending the world to their will, even as it tried to shake them off. A larger human appeared—not the first. There had been others, but until now they had either not noticed Rilian or ignored him, hoping he'd leave. One child flocked to him and attached himself to his leg, his elder responding affectionately. Rilian felt his skin tighten as he recalled some vague memory. Eventually, he was looking straight at him, even approaching him, holding something. Rilian half expected a collar, but the moment the package was open, his little bird heart immediately lifted. He unfurled his heavy wings and leaned forward, ready to propel himself back into the air. Of course, he hesitated, his dark gold eyes shifting back to the human. People didn't usually offer Rilian gifts. This was unusual. And the way the human looked at him, even waved, it was as if he knew… Well, perhaps he did. His kind could be such clever things. The children seemed to like him. His intentions couldn't be all bad. With a flurry of his wings, Rilian lifted and relocated himself on top of his gift, clumsily knocking part of it to the ground. He squawked happily as he tore chunks of meat away and passed them into his throat. Too large for his perch, he quickly decided to knock the rest of his prize to the ground, and floated gracefully after it. Thanks were in order. When he was finished.

[Hadrian]

The mystery Kelvic made its presence known to several of the children with his squawking and the buffeting of wings. Hadrian smiled quietly to himself, hoping that someone might do the same for Ethan someday when he was traveling and alone. The warring of humanity seemed an awful waste to him; with things like the Valterrian, the djed storms, and the other range of dangers, natural and otherwise, it seemed a more logical course of action to cooperate, but he supposed it wasn't human nature. Conflict was inevitable.

A little clutch of children watched the vulture feeding from a prudent, or perhaps respectful distance. They had grown accustomed to Kelvics with the lammergeier Wave Guard watching over them in Hadrian's recent absence, and there were even a few Kelvics among them. Familiarity could kill fear, and Hadrian liked to make everything a teaching moment, so when Grigor ran up to him, he crouched down to pick the little man up.

"What's it eating?" he asked.

"Vultures are scavengers," Hadrian explained. "Their stomachs are stronger than ours, and they can eat meat that's gone off. They help break down things that rot, and their droppings fertilize plants, or feed certain insects. Remember we talked about how everything in Nature recycles itself?"

The boy nodded, the faint wrinkle of his nose smoothing out as understanding overtook his instinctual disgust for things like rot and feces.

Hadrian wasn't too worried about danger to the children from the Kelvic. A vulture's nature was not predatory, and so it would only be likely to attack a human child if in the direst straits of hunger, which it could not be after a fish and the flesh Hadrian had offered it freely. Were it in human form and lurking, his protective instinct might have flared up.

[Rilian]

At first, Rilian was surprised to see the children gathering, prompting him to walk on top of his food and hold out his wings defensively. He was no longer a slave, so he was not required to surrender his meals to his betters. Were he less hungry, he would have offered to share with the poor things, but as long as he had been alone, his animal instincts were stronger. Yet it seemed as though they were more interested in him than the raw meat, ogling him with curiosity he had not received since Hunter's death. Even then, his avian shape was only shown to an audience of one or two at most. Visibly relaxing, Rilian slowly tucked his wings again and resumed eating. The adult was using him as tool to teach them about vultures. Rilian listened as he tore away strips of flesh and swallowed them. It was commendable, especially considering that most humans thought his kind dirty and foul, even fearsome. It was a pleasant contrast to the past months. Finishing with his offering, and sufficiently tearing up the wax paper in search of scraps, Rilian stepped away from the mess and straightened, rising to his full height and exposing his thin neck. Slowly, he looked between the children with cautious, deliberate scrutiny. He enjoyed any form of attention, but their numbers made him nervous. It occurred to him that he could simply fly off and leave, but he still owed the tall one for his meal. Were it not for the children, he would have switched forms there to better communicate, but he was old and experienced enough to know his bared human form would be an unwelcome sight. So, he'd wait. Rilian sat himself down on the ground, puffing his feathers against the cold, and let himself be used as an instrument of learning. While the humans stared and came close, he would not move. They could even touch him, if they liked. Rilian busied himself while they sated their curiosity, combing his beak through his chest feathers.

[Hadrian]

"Most vultures are either partly or entirely featherless on their faces and heads, which is easier to keep clean if they're digging into a carcass. Oh, it looks like he's done with his meal."

"Does he fluff up to keep warm?" Grigor asked curiously.

"Exactly so. When the feathers are fluffed up, they can trap more air to warm up against his body and act as a buffer against the colder air. But when flying, he would want them slicked down so as not to slow him down. All right, he looks like he's settling in for a nap. Why don't you run along inside. Miss Thea is expecting you."

There was an aww or two, but they knew the routine and were at least as afraid of Miss Thea as they loved her. In clumps, they moved off. Grigor was the last to go, and he offered a shy wave to the vulture before disappearing after his fellows. Hadrian watched them go; it was important to keep an eye on children. They were volatile sometimes. But he looked back at the Kelvic, still keeping a respectful distance.

"You're welcome to nest within our walls," he said, "as long as your presence doesn't threaten the children. I am responsible for their safety and upbringing, but, as you can see, I inherited a building in disrepair. The West Wing especially might afford you a roost with protection from the elements."

[Rilian]

While the children left, the adult remained. Rilian bristled, his feathers puffing involuntarily against a possible threat, but he stayed put. This was the longest he had allowed humans to remain in the vicinity with his avian form since the summer. This shape was more fragile and vulnerable to harm than his larger, heavier one. Less comely as well, and humans were very sensitive to appearances. Rilian lifted his head slowly, watching the human as he spoke. A vulture's foreboding scrutiny. This one was unusually accommodating. First an offer a food, and then a place to roost. Rilian immediately began to wonder what this human would want in return. A Ravokian would never give anything this freely, unless he hoping to later collect on his debt. The primary exceptions to the rule were the naïve outsiders who often gave their coin to children who made a habit of begging at the Docks (a very lucrative practice). Many of these outsiders were later robbed or killed within weeks of their arrival. The world outside Ravok was a cruel place, everyone knew this—but then why did it produce such trusting creatures? The human's offer was taken and considered. Rilian's permanent scowl did not change, so no discernible message could be conveyed from his body language. He merely stood, turned and opened his wings. With a great mess of flapping, he managed to lift himself off of the ground, gliding for a short distance before ascending into the rafters of a half decayed building. His hulking, feathered form shifted, and then slid out of view. It was around sunset when a tall stranger approached the orphanage, a wrapped package in hand. A heavy, black cloak draped his form, topped with feather pauldrons. It was a look not unlike his usual form, but on a human it gave a certain dignified appearance that a vulture was not capable of. Rilian was here for a number of reasons. Firstly, he owed a debt of gratitude to the human who fed him and offered him shelter. Secondly, he needed to know whether the repayment would be accepted. Humans coexisted using a system not only of dominance, but barter and coin. Rilian knew enough about it to be sure he didn't want to owe anyone anything. Stepping onto the grounds, he had every intention of knocking on the door, but a young child crossed his path first. Rilian paused, the smiled and knelt. "Hello there." Rilian held his parcel between both hands, attracting the interest of the boy. "I'm looking for your caretaker. I believe he was called…" His eyes darted off in search of a partial memory. There was a name. It didn't sound right. "…Adri?"

[Hadrian]

OOCHey, there's a locked gate between the grounds proper and the road. It's normally locked, but especially so with the pox going on. I'm going to try to steer this a little so it jives with that, but if you want me to change anything, lemme know and we can discuss!

The gates were locked against outsiders, the children within cloistered from the dangers without. Oh, guests were allowed in, and the children were taken out, but it was all strictly controlled. Lord Maria had a plan for these children, and Hadrian was her right and left hands. The walls thrummed silently with Shield energy, but so far, the lock was rather mundane, as was the chain that rang a bell to let people know they had a visitor.

But Rilian didn't even have to ring, as young Grigor was walking the grounds near the gate, looking intently for something. He smiled vaguely at the man peering through the gate, a present in his hands. The little lad drew closer, confident in the power of the gate to repel harm, but wary all the same. Still, they didn't let bad men inside; of that, Grigor had faith.

"You want Master Hadrian?" he piped up. He turned and squinted up at the windows atop the East Wing where the headmaster's office and rooms were perched, the closest thing to an aerie in the hulking building. Sometimes they saw him watching over them, but not today apparently.

So he pointed to the chain.

"Ring the bell, ring the bell! He'll come with the key!"