( to getian’s eyes, nearly all manners of dress that he sees the other “guests” of this place wearing are odd, but that was not altogether novel. he is not new to being adrift in time, plucked from his own age so to avoid the “Storm” that washed away eras, and sheltered within the suitcase of a young arcanist named the Timekeeper. her quest, her companions, and her struggle were largely abstract to him; he was counted as one of those companions, yes, and he aided when called upon, but it had been hard to contextualize his own place in their story. this “casino” is just as discombobulating to him as that impossible slice of wilderness had been, so he suffers from much the same here. the infringements upon his freedom here have been far harsher, though. told where to stay, where to sleep, when to wake, when to eat, what to wear, what to do—the harshness of the lights on him paled only in comparison to the frightful amount of attention he seemed to garner wherever he went. he wanted none of it. he accepts that it had been his own choice to leave his mountain, but oh, how he wishes he could return. to sleep amongst the boughs of his tree, play music, and keep watch over the temple—the final resting place of every other miemeng bird that had ever lived.
if he understood correctly, it was all gone now, washed away in a rain that fell upwards into the sky.
when it had come to getian’s costume, less had been more. they’d actually taken off the robe he had found for himself, permitting him a band of cloth around his waist and a matching shawl to wear over his head and shoulders (mostly because he’d gotten far too agitated and fearful when it had been taken away). otherwise, his torso was kept bare, painted in colorful and intricate designs—this apparently had to do with his “role,” that of a sympathetic beastman who had joined the brave warriors on their quest upon being sufficiently impressed by their sexual prowess (a detail that’d been enough to make him blush). he is neither a fool nor some spring chicken; he had a general idea of just what sort of “plays” (he has no idea what a ‘movie’ is) these people were trying to force them to perform. he was not particularly thrilled by the idea of such wanton, casual bawdiness. call him old fashioned, but hey, he’d seen miemeng birds court for years if not decades before actually settling in as mates…
he is just as intent on continuing to evade them as quincy is, though he believes the human far more poorly-equipped, for his lack of wings. still—getian is impressed by the way he handles himself in the forest. he didn’t even need to see him do so to know it; he could read it in his bones, the gentle curves of one with great respect for nature, as strong and graceful as the boughs of a tree. it makes him feel slightly more at ease around him, even if he is a stranger. )
If it is treacherous, it is not in a way that these old eyes of mine can see.
( and the eyes of a miemeng bird can be a powerful thing, but usually only those with bones to read. the landscape and flora he knew less about, though the path hadn’t looked difficult when he had scanned it from above.
quincy begins to head down the other path, and, after a moment’s thoughtful hesitation, getian begins to accompany him in his own way. he flies low beneath the canopy of the forest, scouting ahead and regularly circling back toward the human to check on his progress. it’s on the first of these returns that he replies, ) They have already sent people to bring me back several times. I do not believe they account well for one who can fly, however.
( when he’d either flown away or sent them retreating with warnings of his arcane skills, that’s when they’d really started complaining about “not being paid enough for this.” )
grabs quincy
if he understood correctly, it was all gone now, washed away in a rain that fell upwards into the sky.
when it had come to getian’s costume, less had been more. they’d actually taken off the robe he had found for himself, permitting him a band of cloth around his waist and a matching shawl to wear over his head and shoulders (mostly because he’d gotten far too agitated and fearful when it had been taken away). otherwise, his torso was kept bare, painted in colorful and intricate designs—this apparently had to do with his “role,” that of a sympathetic beastman who had joined the brave warriors on their quest upon being sufficiently impressed by their sexual prowess (a detail that’d been enough to make him blush). he is neither a fool nor some spring chicken; he had a general idea of just what sort of “plays” (he has no idea what a ‘movie’ is) these people were trying to force them to perform. he was not particularly thrilled by the idea of such wanton, casual bawdiness. call him old fashioned, but hey, he’d seen miemeng birds court for years if not decades before actually settling in as mates…
he is just as intent on continuing to evade them as quincy is, though he believes the human far more poorly-equipped, for his lack of wings. still—getian is impressed by the way he handles himself in the forest. he didn’t even need to see him do so to know it; he could read it in his bones, the gentle curves of one with great respect for nature, as strong and graceful as the boughs of a tree. it makes him feel slightly more at ease around him, even if he is a stranger. )
If it is treacherous, it is not in a way that these old eyes of mine can see.
( and the eyes of a miemeng bird can be a powerful thing, but usually only those with bones to read. the landscape and flora he knew less about, though the path hadn’t looked difficult when he had scanned it from above.
quincy begins to head down the other path, and, after a moment’s thoughtful hesitation, getian begins to accompany him in his own way. he flies low beneath the canopy of the forest, scouting ahead and regularly circling back toward the human to check on his progress. it’s on the first of these returns that he replies, ) They have already sent people to bring me back several times. I do not believe they account well for one who can fly, however.
( when he’d either flown away or sent them retreating with warnings of his arcane skills, that’s when they’d really started complaining about “not being paid enough for this.” )