( at first the shout only blends into the other calls and questions that are being hurled either directly at him or all around him; he wouldn’t think to assume that it heralded anything that would change what is happening, what has been happening inescapably for the last few days. a miemeng bird, as rare and strange as it is, is likely to draw attention, but he had never thought that he would be able to find focuses of attention that were worse than those he had read in the bones of his deceased kin. he doesn’t even know what they want from him. the didn’t know the answers to any of their questions, could barely see through the flashing of the devices in their hands, and why would he want to show his face to those who couldn’t even respect his space?
it’s not until something brushes past the feathers of one of his wings (a tail?) that he gets the sense that someone has imposed themself between him and his ring of tormentors. he still can’t bear to look, but he does listen; the voice seems young but impassioned, commanding a surprising amount of authority as he laid down his ultimatum and his countdown.
not enough authority, it seems, to actually convince the paparazzi to move on, though.
simultaneous with the sound of the synchronized flashes of the cameras, getian rises up and stands, wings unfolding and spreading out and then forward, coming to meet together just above seth’s head. held out like an umbrella, a shield between the two of them and… well, at the very least the cameras in front of them, it’s a paltry effort to intervene but one getian felt compelled to make regardless.
amongst the clamoring and renewed wave of shouts and calls, the miemeng bird’s voice is soft: ) They do not seem inclined to listen. ( a beat. ) Do you want to leave this place?
( something about this brave stranger being interjected into the situation has given getian enough confidence to act. he should just be ready for what might happen, though, should he say yes… )
no subject
it’s not until something brushes past the feathers of one of his wings (a tail?) that he gets the sense that someone has imposed themself between him and his ring of tormentors. he still can’t bear to look, but he does listen; the voice seems young but impassioned, commanding a surprising amount of authority as he laid down his ultimatum and his countdown.
not enough authority, it seems, to actually convince the paparazzi to move on, though.
simultaneous with the sound of the synchronized flashes of the cameras, getian rises up and stands, wings unfolding and spreading out and then forward, coming to meet together just above seth’s head. held out like an umbrella, a shield between the two of them and… well, at the very least the cameras in front of them, it’s a paltry effort to intervene but one getian felt compelled to make regardless.
amongst the clamoring and renewed wave of shouts and calls, the miemeng bird’s voice is soft: ) They do not seem inclined to listen. ( a beat. ) Do you want to leave this place?
( something about this brave stranger being interjected into the situation has given getian enough confidence to act. he should just be ready for what might happen, though, should he say yes… )