OPEN Those aren't meant to bend

[Ares]

Her steps were methodical, each one meticulously planned as her legs moved. Like a well-oiled machine, a thing meant to kill and hunt. And yet, here she was, striding down the cobble streets of Fort Crom. Most of the time she didn't even leave fur-mom's house. But the Utahraptor needed to stretch her legs.

She did her best to ignore the occasional peasant and commonfolk that would veer sharply out of her way or tense up as she walked past. Her feathers would occasionally rise as a peasant stared at her, but that was short-lived. Ares could handle the adults that walked by, but she was more hesitant of the children. She was, after all, little at one point.

Finding a quiet spot on the street, nestled in an alleyway, Ares moved to lay there to escape the subtle drizzle that dampened her feathers. She snorted, reaching a claw up to scratch an itch by her scar. Heterochromatic eyes blinked wildly for a moment as she settled her head on the stony floor. Before long, her eyes had drifted shut.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but as she opened her eyes, she could see brief patches of sunlight on the ground. And about five young animals trying to pester her. They looked like felines -- not that she'd care what animals they were since they were oo-ing and awe-ing at her like she was some strange attraction. They scrabbled back as she barked angrily, but inched back when they realized she hadn't stood up.

I'VE WATCHED THE WEIGHT OF YOUR WORLD COME DOWN.

[ROSEMARY]

ROSEMARY ROUX

Rosemary had been running errands—restocking supplies, investigating herbal supplychains—and that involved walking down the cobbled streets of Fort Crom. Halfway lost in thought, the apothecary walked by the alley. She glanced in and saw Ares’s feathers. Kept walking. And then she blinked, circled back, and watched the confrontation.

Rosemary asked herself: if her father were apothecary and wanted to remove this crowd of imbecile looky-loos, what would he do? He’d bonk them with shame, of course. But how? The ocelot licked her teeth, inhaled.

The ocelot stepped into the alley. She clicked her tongue in disapproval, which drew the attention of the canines ooing and awing over Ares.

“How uncivilized,” Rosemary said.

A sheepdog bristled. He bared his teeth. “What do you—”

A dalmatian poked his shoulder. “Shut up, that’s the apothecary.”

Rosemary’s four eyes slid to the sheepdog. “Apothecary. And sister to Lady Rosencrantz.” Her amber gaze narrowed. She stared down the sheepdog until his gaze dropped to his paws.

Rosemary hesitated. This was working? This was easy.

Then, the ocelot inhaled and swept her gaze to each of the five. “This isn’t kindergarten show and tell. Frankly, I’d expect better manners from kindergarteners. Scram.”

They hesitated. Which infuriated her. Then, when one of them met her gaze and shivered, she realized they were too scared to leave with her standing in the middle of the alley, blocking their way. So she stepped aside.

Immediately, the five dogs trotted out at various gaits. The sheepdog fled the fastest. Huh. Spurred by guilt?

Rosemary shook her head to clear out her thoughts. Then looked to Ares. Rosemary had no idea what the feathered Utahraptor was doing napping in the alley, but she appeared unhurt and (relatively) unbothered. “You okay, Ares?” she asked.

[Ares]

Orange and blue eyes darted to the approaching feline, feathers ruffling for a moment before realizing it was Rosemary. Ares was quiet as the ocelot scolded the canines and sent them scrambling. She chimed in with a soft laughing bark. 

Even without a family unit, Ares had a sort of pack. And she was surprised to see that not everyone was frightened of her, or treated her like some wonder. Upon Rosemary's question, Ares let out a soft chittering sound, nodding. Following that was a whispery, rough, "Okay, okay."

In her time living alongside speaking animals, she had picked up a few things here and there, mimicking words and voices in an almost eerie fashion. In a family unit, it would have been for survival; here, though, it was communication.

I'VE WATCHED THE WEIGHT OF YOUR WORLD COME DOWN.

[ROSEMARY]

ROSEMARY ROUX

A relieved smile graced the apothecary’s lips. The apothecary hummed Misty Mountains.

Ares’s soft chittering and raspy voice told her more than a fool’s two hundred words. Living in society meant navigating countless lies—white lies, pointless lies, dangerous lies—and pretending you couldn’t see right through the other person.

Ares couldn’t talk, but talking meant lying, and, hell, Rosemary found it easier to understand voiceless Ares than the countless fools who lied to themselves every day of their miserable lives.

Rosemary paused her humming to speak slowly. “I’m going to the market for herbs and food, want to come?” Then she resumed humming and tilted her head, gesturing in the cardinal direction towards the Marketplace. Then a slight smile as she added, “Chicken? Pork? My treat.”