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Her gesture flails into the open, doesn’t seem to make any connection as Ros keeps their distance. The general’s face pulls into a worrisome conglomerate of frowns. A background of thought appears to plague those eyes across from Ru, but they yield nothing. Only a tangible discomfort that permeates, and thickens the longer they stand across from one another.
This is where an inkling of fear starts to creep in Ru’s psyche. Where her smiles loosen to thinned, tight lines. And her eyes become reserved, and perhaps – even cautious as she steps back for a moment in her thoughts. Attempts to cool her rearing nerves, in order to approach Ros with a clear explanation that must be mimed or exaggerated.
Ears press forward as Ru wrestles how to respond more clearly. The stammering clearly highlights the current unease, and she wonders – if any mentions of approval will loose its light with this odd encounter. That she will be viewed as too weak, too broken to function properly in her determined role. But the thought remains abated. If it stands and breaks through, she isn’t sure how she’ll handle herself before her superior.
Hesitating, as Ros trails at the very end of her words, Ru gives a quiet sigh in an attempt to relieve the stress bottling up inside of her. She gives a quiet chirp, nudging her wing forwards to pluck a feather. The moniker is the easiest to assign her; there are several who seem to flock to it. And perhaps it will finally allow a successful attempt at communication.
Ru places the white feather between them, and steps on it. Casting her glaze steadily on Ros, sky bound eyes unflinching before she looks down at what she had offered. And as if to punctuate this action, she finally lends her voice with a rough, rust-toned exclamation.
“Ah!” Pawing once against its bottom quill tip. She clenches her jaws, simply because the attempt at filling the silence with her voice felt weak and simpleton, ugly, and inadequate. But it was inevitably who she was, and a brief, small part of her mind wondered why she did not embrace it more fiercely. Why she should hate the things she had no control over.
For now she doesn’t resume her gaze. Waiting to hear, instead, if Ros understood; or if she had something else in mind to get on to.
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