[PRP] Hushed Rapturous Breaths (Whispers of Death x Shank)

[fluo]

Carrion birds were clever and had a memory to rival that of kin. In fact, so exemplary was Ankle Biter's recollection that sometimes Shank secretly depended on the crow. Not that she would ever breath life into the words by uttering them aloud. The bird's mind was the opposite of the usual featherbrains that followed in their wake. And here they were, Shank and her birds surveying what caught Ankle Biter's attention: a dead body.

They had a few hours before the sun came up and with it the scents and other scavengers. Shank nudged the carcass while surreptitiously looking through her fallen hair around for the one responsible.

@beejoux

[Beejoux]

"That one has moved on," intones a voice from the shadows off to one side. Bright, glowing eyes lingering on the elegant looking doe that had wandered up to inspect the dead. Flicking over dark feathers that hung from hair and legs, the birds that seemed to be following, and back again.

The owner of the voice, when she stepped into the dappled light, was high contrast. Dark and subtly dappled flanks were offset by the stark white of her hair and the pale cream of the markings that climbed up the thin column of her throat. She too had feathers in her hair, whole wings and juts of bone. Her ear flicked, head inclining gently to one side as if she were listening to something, but who knew what. "Do you commune with the dead?"

[fluo]

Some would say she was a hoarder given her menagerie of birds; Shank fancied herself a collector of good tastes. With the soft dapple that mirrored plumage and affixed wings, there the similarities ended between the two does. They were physical opposites of each other in color. She lowered her eyes before the other doe could see the growing speculation. That twitched ear piqued her interest.

"My talents lie elsewhere. I have a feeling you are listening to something I cannot hear."

Ankle Biter chose that moment to squawk its delight. The crow kept its distance for now and nervously flitted on the branch in growing excitement.

[Beejoux]

"Mm," she answered in the affirmative, glowing gaze gone just a little distant for a handful of seconds longer before she was focusing once again on the paler doe before her. "I hear them whispering, guiding, leading. Always talking, always." She wrinkled her nose, giving a little shake of her head as if that might clear it.

There were no birds flocking around Whispers, nor any other animals that could be seen. She glanced up at the bird in the branches that had squawked their excitement. "Are you waiting to feast? They're cold enough now."

[fluo]

Ankle Biter cocked its head to the side. Few words held more importance than that of "feast." It was universally understood and revered even as the best word. Feast or famine, that's how the bird lived. This was the way. While the others spoke, Ankle Biter flew closer on the opposite side of the new doe, careful to keep the carcass between them. It didn't matter how spry and quick the other doe was; she would still have to hop over the body or go around. Just enough delay so that the bird could escape. A quick glance around to see if anything else might intervene, Ankle Biter hopped closer and took a small testing peck.

Shank was bemused. The bird was feigning caution when she knew better the more rotten the better for that particular bird. It favored the more "nuanced" aromas that were strong enough to activate the kimeti's gag reflex.

"Did you come here to investigate? Or are you leaving now that this kin is no longer of this world?" For emphasis, Ankle Biter spat out a particularly hard chunk of something.

[Beejoux]

Whispers of Death dipped her head to watch the crow keenly, a soft little smile touching dark features. "Dig in" She chuckled, her tail flicking gently from side to side. "Enjoy, little one. This one is gone, only meat remains."

Glowing eyes flicked up to the grey doe at her question and Whispers lifted her head, the dark wing shifting in her hair as she gave her head a little shake. "I would have conversed with the dead, but they were gone before I arrived." She lanced down again briefly before focusing on the other doe. "Then you arrived. Are you investigating?"

[fluo]

Ankle Biter didn't need extra encouragement. Fast work was done until others heeded the call. The crow would rather not get into territorial disputes.

Shank watched as the wing in the doe's hair gracefully rose and fell with each movement, and gave another look at the body as the smaller form hopped to and fro for the tastiest bits on the bone. Waste not, want not. Everything in the swamp had a purpose- whether it was for adornment, sustenance, or atmospheric "delight."

"The body's gone cold. I don't think even if I were super earnest, I could do anything to help. Did you know them?"

[Beejoux]

As the crow moved in happily to begin pulling bits of flesh from the carcass the darker doe let out a gentle chuckle. Soon, she knew, there would be nothing but bones left to mark this one's passing, their body given back to the ground and to the animals. Nothing would go to waste. It was a beautiful circle.

She looked up again at the other doe as she spoke. "No, I did not. And you are very right, they are well beyond help." Past her reach, even. "Although, they are not beyond giving help," she added with a pleased smile. "Many will visit this place and leave with fuller bellies."

Including the crow. She nodded towards the dark bird. "Are they yours?"

[fluo]

Ankle Biter ate its fill and then some. The full belly slows its movement. Now was the time to survey the surroundings. Ankle Biter took to the nearby tree branches to peer down at the two does. It started to plot.

"Ankle Biter the crow perched above? Close enough to shit on us if it chooses? Yes, that little rascal is mine. Or rather, as much as a crow could belong to a kin. And I guess it can't be helped about this body. I'm not one to eat a fallen kin. Are you? If so, I'll give you and Ankle Biter privacy" the doe joked.

[Beejoux]

"Yes, them," they clarified with a smile, head lifting to look up at the bird now that it was watching from the branches above. "They're very charming creatures. Very smart." Whispers encountered them often in her wanderings, but none that had seemed attached to a kin. It was a curious thing.

"Admittedly, I have wondered about the taste, but I have not sampled." The doe sniffed the air before wrinkling her nose. "The dead do not smell appetizing. Least not to me."

[fluo]

Shank had a horrible habit- the doe wasn't used to talking to other kin. Most kin didn't have the patience or lung capacity to communicate with the doe when her other birds were around. They all assumed she was too busy to cultivate kin relationships or friendships when she had so many birds. For that reason, the doe was rusty with conversation. She had lines prepared, but forgot them as soon as her stomach rumbled. Sheepish, she looked up at the crow.

"Well, at least someone ate their fill. And I agree," eyes flicked towards the darker doe, "this does not smell good or appetizing."

Ankle Biter cawed in offense. Kin did not have good sense according to the crow.

[Beejoux]

Whisper's ears perked at the sound of that rumble and she gave the other doe a curious look. "No, I think not," she agreed, a little distractedly, before continuing on. "Are you hungry?"

The crow cawed in protest, and through Whispers of Death glanced up at him, her attention returned quickly to the grey doe. "I believe I passed a blackberry bush not long ago, if berries are to your liking." Half turning, she glanced back through the trees she'd emerged from, humming thoughtfully. "I could show you?"

If Whispers minded the many flocking birds, the doe wasn't obvious about it.

[fluo]

"I'm a bit famished, yes" The doe admitted. "While blackberries are delightful, how about we snack on them afterwards. Fancy a nice hunt? I know a good spot. Come on!" Without looking behind, Shank raced forward. In hindsight, she would regret not working on her social skills. She hoped the other doe would follow her so that she could ask for a name.

Ankle Biter swooped down to the other doe's level, stared straight into the darker kimeti's eyes, and plucked a feather from the worn wings before cawing a beckoning invite. The hunt was on.