The chick's struggle does not go unnoticed by the glistening woman, who has extended an exuberant wing to wipe the water from her brow. She can feel the incessant tug of her banner as he fiddles with her hair, and the random bouts of sharp pain is starting to drive her mad. Quickly now, and be done with it! The bird's exasperation is evident in her mind-speech, and it urges the fumbling boy to set to work on the second charm. The first has been successfully ensnared by thick locks of varying colors, purple being the most predominant one, not that it really matters. The boy is just happy to follow his mother's orders.

His little beak is about to finish his knot when the fibrous string is wrenched away from his grip. Reeling back in certainty (for he does not know if he has earned a punishment or not; he was just doing as he was told) brown eyes squeeze closed in preparation for... nothing. A moment passes, and then two, and finally the quivering lad can open his eyes again. His stare, although curious, is cautious. What could have startled the bird like that? Normally she would have given him some sort of insult as a warning, but this time, she has provided him with nothing. He reaches for her through the bond, seeking some sort of assurance from her to prove that nothing is wrong. All that he gets in return, though, are a few bitter words meant for someone else.

"They're not as much of a burden as you are. Look at you. Why do you stumble like that? Coconetotonti can walk better than you can." Finder's keepers, prick. The peahen doesn't know what the treasures can do, but she is determined to keep them away from the unicorn. It is not so much because she knows of their value, but just simply because she does not want him to have them. Clearly he wants the rusted things, but she cannot fathom why.

She throws her head up in defiance, flashing a smirk across her lips as she waits for her insults to take affect. It has been far too long since she last encountered the giant, and what respect she had for him has diminished in their time apart. The presence of his toy at the last meeting has not done much to make her think otherwise, too. Speaking of the ice princess...

"Where is your plaything, baby? Or should I call you the Addict, now?" She is unaware of the true nature behind the word, but her time among the herd has alerted her of the titles that some call few others. She isn't certain that the shire's alternate name is one that speaks of honor, though, and so she will not use it as such. "Not that I care about her, though. Where have you been? What happened to our little alliance?"

Laced legs mash the dying grasses beneath them, causing blood to flow through each pillar as she waits for the bay to react. She does not wish to pick a fight with him, but her rather bitter reminder of her purposes for him will certainly earn her some sort of retort. From the looks of his hollowed frame, though, he seems more equipped to retaliate with words. Not that that is the route he will take.

A blue head swings to direct itself upon the boy, who sits idly by, surrounded by his confusion. A fluffy head tilts to convey such a message to the conniving maiden, but she rolls her eyes in response. Back to work, Mictla. I do not think you have finished. As always, the boy rushes to meet her demands.


"more words."

{coconetotonti -- "little children."}

alan l @ flickr | subtlepatterns.com | larfsalot @ deviantart