1002/Birds of a Feather

Birds of a Feather
Date of Scene:	18 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Kian t'Kaeh, 811

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Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    The city, unquestionably, is fascinating, and Kian will learn much more about Earth there than here... but the simple truth is, he finds this wilderness comforting. It looks like home, where despite their technological advancement, they impose themselves as little as possible on their environment.
    All Kian really does is flit from treetop to treetop, avoiding being over the water -- he hasn't quite shaken the scare he got from his arrival. And it is quite a beautiful evening, at that.

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion is not being quiet. But then, when dragging a pair of wings that refuse to sit properly on one's back, it's kind of hard to. Blasted things. They've made it impossible for him to wear a shirt of any kind, but thankfully he's still got pants and boots. So both modesty and feet are being protcted.
    For himself, Dion is heading into the woods not for comfort, but to hide. Well, he supposes hiding would be some comfort, so there's that. It's just a huge chore to drag his wings basically the whole way. He's tired. Those wings are just sort of... hanging behind him, like a great pair of feathered arms (which is basically what wings are, more or less), forcing him to lean forward or be pulled backwards, off balance as he trudges deeper into the woods.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian parks himself in a treetop, just enjoying the view, the feel of the alien sun on his body, the breeze. If it weren't for the fact that this planet makes no sense and isn't his own, it could be quite nice here. In fact --
    Oh.
    Gods.
    Within.
    Kian is diving full speed to the path below, pulling up only just as his flight path intersects with the birdman walking below. He doesn't stop, though. He scoops the other birdman up into the air with him with minimal effort -- if he was lucky, the stranger heard "/Ai, c'Rhys'yw, k'tavrat'h/!" and then the rest of the contact, oddly enough, is all mental. (Gods and goddesses! Wing-brother! How did you find me? Where is your ship? I don't believe it, I thought I was lost forever ohmyGodsyoujustcan'tbelievehowrelievedIamtoseeyou--!) and then it's just a wild mental whirl of desperate, disbelieving relief.

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion is a military man. Military men do not like surprises. And having a birdman diving down and picking him up is DEFINITELY a surprise! Particularly because wings tends to equal 'Torean', and 'Torean' equals 'bad'. And he's already been kidnapped by Toreans once.
    A growl starts to build in his chest... but then the mental contact happens. It takes him completely off-guard. The emotions might hit Kian first -- anger and fear, the feeling of being caught by a thing that one has been running from for a long time... and then confusion.
    Dion reaches up to take hold of Kian's arm. With a five-fingers, human hand. The mental contact centers around a highly indignant 'PUT ME DOWN', but Dion is a little too frazzled at the moment to put it into mental 'words'.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
It is, in fact, possible to stagger in mid-air. Case in point: Kian, who does so under pressure of the unexpected emotions, the anger, the fear, and the unfamiliarity with Kian himself, even as another Akiar. But, he never loses his grip, and slowly and safely descends, meeting eyes with the other birdman. (Wing-brother? I... I don't understand....)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    There is that, at least. Dion relaxes a bit as he finds his feet back on the ground. Meeting Dion's eyes? There is distrust there. Unfamiliarity. No, this isn't a wing-brother, at least not an Akiar one. Distrust, fear, confusion... and shame, though that last one's buried, since he's trying to hide it. Though what he can't hide? Those wings are sitting all wrong.
    Dion seems to get a grip on himself mentally as he finds himself back on the ground. Enough to be able to 'speak ' back. He bows his head a little. (...Please forgive the violent response. I thought you were an enemy.) He doesn't have the ability to share more than that, like a natural telepath would. The link is supported on Kian's end, with little to no assistance -- or resistance -- from Dion's.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian does not let go of the strange birdman, though he keeps his hands on the other's shoulders. He can tell there's no /ki'thar/ there, though he can't imagine why. (Wing-brother? What has happened to you? Where is your Mental Gift?) Obviously, he hasn't registered the wrong number of fingers. (Your wings... were you injured? They're hanging all wrong... oh, Gods, let me see....)
    He slips around behind Dion, examining the wing bases, holding the wings up where they should be. Bafflement: (I don't understand. I don't see any damage, they look perfectly normal...)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    There's a whirl of confusion again when Kian starts to walk around behind him. Dion turns a bit to avoid losing sight of Kian. And when Kian holds the wings up, the feathers fluff quite suddenly -- new input from limbs he didn't have until recently. And one of the wings sort of shakes, like a cat shaking water off its foot. It's not used to being in a proper position. And once Kian has a closer look? The feathers are all over the place. They don't look like they've been properly cared for. But on the bright side... they're not injured.
    (Mental gift? What do you mean?) Dion returns once he can think properly again. Though he does seem to get the idea that he ought to try to hold those wings up like Kian's supporting them, because that feels a lot less uncomfortable. So he tries. But he doesn't quite know where the muscles are yet. Also his feathers are still fluffed out.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian barely registers it. (Gods, who did this to you?) Without waiting for leave, he immediately goes to work smoothing feathers out, righting them, untangling them -- even if they remain fuffed out, they will settle smooth.
    He slips back around front, without breaking physical contact. His hand remains on Dion's shoulder. The other birdman may or may not notice that he holds his wings high and off the ground; they seem to float behind him -- more to the point, they look like they're completely integral to him, that he'd look wrong without them. (I know I've said this before, but I don't understand. You look like one of my people. Except unspeakably tall.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion becomes aware that something is going on with his wings, and he squirms. (What are you doing?) he manages to ask. Though it's not long before he notices that those wings don't feel as itchy after whatever it is that Kian's doing. And once Kian returns to in front of him and blinks. (Did you fix them?) he asks. (Thank you.)
    He shakes his head to the concern. (No, I am not of your people. What are you?) His voice isn't overtly gruff or angry, though.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian bows slightly without breaking physical contact. Hesays aloud, in a voice that does sound lihe his mental voice: "/Kie, tavrat'h. Kian takh/." Mentally, it translates as (Peace, my friend. I'm Kian.)
    He continues, mentally alone, (Kian of the Kaeh. My people are the Akiar. They are...) Here, he breaks off and looks skyward longingly. (...out there somewhere. I don't know where.)
    He glances past Dion's left shoulder. (Hold your wing up.) It's 'said' crisply, almost like a nanny very gently correcting one of her charges. (I don't know what happened to you. The muscles at the wingbases seem a little slack. Have you been grounded for a while?)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (My name is Dion,) he offers in return. Realizing that Kian is also from another planet gets a blink. How many winged non-Earth species exist? Well, at least he's not a Torean, so there's that. Though does have a question. (Are all your people winged?)
    He blinks a little at the sudden 'tone' change. He looks back at the wing in question, then Kian might pick up something of a 'come on you stupid limb you're attached you have to do what I say' attitude as he tries to pull the wing up properly. He might even be able to see Dion's shoulder flexing.
    Grounded? (Well. No. These are... new. Very new,) he tries to explain. And there's that shame again, though he's trying to hide it.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (/Kie/, Dion. Yes, all my people have the /kan'thar/.) That's a word that comes up deep from Kian's mind with so much emotional baggage attached to it, it's stunning. It's the word he uses for wings, but that's not what that word *actually* means. It has religious meaning to him as well, deep religious meaning.
    At the news they are new, that really sets Kian back. (They just grew in? How? You look my age, you must have had your First Flight by now.)
    The shame? It simply doesn't register. That is an emotion that he simply cannot process in relation to one's /kan'thar/.

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion flinches a bit at the emotional baggage attached to that word. He shakes his head a little bit, confused about it all. But... how to explain this? And should he? Well... at least it seems like Kian is in a similar place. He's far away from home. And really... Dion's been sort of running since he came here. Someone that doesn't want to hurt him is kind of a welcome thing, actually.
    He does look confused at the mention of a 'first flight', though. (I have not flown on these.) They won't listen to him, so that makes it difficult. (My people are not winged. These were forced upon me.) There's a bit of weirdness for Kian -- the feeling of /displeasure/ at having wings!

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Nope. Can't process that. Not on any meaningful level. Kian can accept the words intellectually, but kind of like you can accept that someone *says* they think breathing is a bit of a chore, but they can't really possibly mean it. Not really. Because it's not really possible to mean something like that, is it?
    And another word that doesn't make sense. He can accept that there are naturally wingless people. He's surrounded by them. But... (What do you mean, forced?)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (My people are not winged. Our enemies are.) Which may explain why he originally thought Kian was an enemy. He thinks of the Toreans, the horrible birdlike menace that plagued his people for most of their history. If Kian catches the thought, he might see them -- creatures that look like Earth raptors, but the size of a man, and with slightly more man-like legs. Bird heads, covered in feathers, all that.
    Dion continues over this thought, (Our enemies, and ONLY our enemies, have wings. This was done to me before I left my home. It was /because/ of this that I left, in fact. I will not have my parents see this.)

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    *Now* Kian breaks contact, backs up, stares. Too inconceivable. The enemies are startling, wrong, things that should not be. The raw hate that Dion feels towards them is an almost physical thing, at least to Kian's milder senses. And the revulsion over what was done to him, over being turned into something Kian himself considers a natural state of being... the smaller birdman backs up another step, then two. "/Khe.../"

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Of course, the image of the bird-people in his mind may just be colored by his own perception of them, but that's the dangers of looking at something in another's mind. In this case, they're ugly and horrid -- and yes, unnatural. And Dion looks away as Kian backs up. Yeah, he thinks it's pretty ugly too. Though not for the same reason.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    "/Khe/," Kian repeats, and spreads his wings, and his whole body tenses as if to leap straight up to the clouds... then somehow he forces himself to calm down. Hands unclench. Legs straighten. Wings fold. Then very deliberately unfold, and re-fold, as if demonstrating. Finally, Kian reaches out his hand again. Palm up. Three fingers and a thumb.

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion notices the movements and looks back at Kian, tensing as if expecting an attack. Those wings fluff again, and rise up a little -- up and out to the sides like a startled, angry bird. Like if someone were to have agitated a goose. Clearly an instinctive movement there.
    However, he blinks at the clearly deliberate unfolding and refolding. Then he looks back at his own wings, trying to get them to do the same. It's a clearly unpracticed motion. He's not used to moving those muscles. It probably looks to Kian the way a toddler learning to walk would look to a human.
    He looks back to Kian, noticing the hand out. He pauses, tilts his head. And then slowly reaches out his own hand in return -- four fingers and a thumb, like the humans here. But the nails are almost talon-like.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian stares at the hand, and... kind of twitches. Blinks, shakes his head, kind of looks like he got poked. It seems to have just sunk in that no, really, Dion is not a lost Akiar of some sort.
    Tentatively, he puts his hand in Dion's, and the mental contact begins to flow again. (You really are not of my kind.) The mental feel is of someone who's just realized there is no Santa. (Please, forgive me. I--I thought you were one of my people who had somehow come to... to rescue me from this world. I know it's not possible they can know where I am. I don't even know where my world is from here. I--)
    Abruptly, Kian pulls his hand away and spreads his wings again, looking upward... and then ducks under a tree to forcibly ground himself, resolutely staring downward.

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion can tell the amount of upset he's caused, and winces a little as Kian breaks contact again. "<I'm sorry,>" he offers verbally. Though he doesn't expect it to be understood. It's definitely a language, not just squawking, but it's no Earth language. And it's not Akiar, either. Though there may be some similar sound.
    He gives an awkward look at Kian's distressed state. His wings start drooping, and he looks back at them with a dismayed look. Apparently he and his wings haven't yet figured out how to agree on which direction to go.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian sniffles once, rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Takes a deep breath. When he looks up, he extends his hand again. (I... I thought I might be going home,) he 'sends simply. (I suppose not.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (I'm sorry,) Dion says again, this time where he can be heard. (I do hope you can find your way home.) It does strike Dion as being a little strange. Not Kian, but at their situations. So similar, yet they couldn't be more different.
    Though Dion's still pragmatic. He's newly winged, and from the sounds of it this one's been winged his whole life. And he did a pretty good job fixing the itchiness -- he had no idea having his feathers out of place would cause it. It's hard to ask, but necessary. (Do you... think you could teach me?) About having wings, he means.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian deliberately turns his mind away from thinking about home. That's non-productive at best. As for teaching Dion about his wings, well, Kian's mental contact brightens noticeably. (I'm... I probably could,) Kian replies. (I had to be taught when mine grew in. We all do. We aren't born with them.)
    He glances past Dion's shoulders. (Wings up, please,) he commands, in the same firm-but-gentle tone as before. (I suppose you'll need to learn everything. But they should certainly support you in flight, even though you're unusually tall.) There's a tiny whiff of 'freakishly huge' that Kian can't keep out of his mind -- there is, after all, a full 20cm difference between them. (If I could get us both off the ground, there's absolutely no reason you can't do it yourself.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion corrects the posture of his wings when Kian calls him on it. (That will take some getting used to,) he notes. It's like having a separate pair of arms, but sticking out his back! Though the whiff of 'freakishly huge' gets a bit of a smirk. (You may just be unusually short,) he suggests. It's a good thing this conversation is mental, or the undertone of humor would probably be missed.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (Once you're used to it, it will feel much better,) Kian says, satisfying himself that Dion has them at least close enough. (I wouldn't be surprised to learn you're having backaches, aren't you?)
    As for his own height, Kian smirks, draws himself up to his full height -- all five-foot-nothing of it -- steps out from under the tree, and with hardly any apparent effort is rocketing skywards.
    There's no point in sugar-coating it: Kian is showing off, pure and simple. If Dion has vision like Kian's, he can see the enormous grin. If not, he'll have to wait until Kian lands. And it is quite honestly a fairly impressive display of aerobatics: Kian is a natural-born flyer. When he does drop to the ground, barely a minute later, it's at top speed, stopping at the last second and fairly stepping out of the air and onto the path -- at least that's what it looks like. He takes Dion's hand again. The whole tenor of his thoughts has changed. They're clearer, even happier. (I am unusually perfectly sized for speed, power and agility, actually,) he sends with a smirk. (Gods, but I needed that!)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion nods to the question of backaches. (Because I have been dragging them, yes?) he ventures. Though he takes a step back, tensing a little, as Kian hops into the air. As easily as someone stepping up a small step. Dion's body isn't completely avian-adapted, but it's enough that he can see Kian's smile. He does have to squint, though. It seems so odd to him... someone not a Torean, clearly with all their faculties (or most of them, at least), actually ENJOYING flight with physical wings. Odd, and a little unnatural.
    That said, once Kian lands and he's able to talk to him again, Dion observes, (You did seem to be enjoying your time up there. The wings we used in my home would not have been capable of such mobility.)

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    That earns a head tilt. Kian asks, (Wings at your home? But I thought you said your people aren't winged.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (Not naturally. We used artificial wings,) Dion specifies. (A piece of armor that creates what you might call a... construct that is wing-shaped. They allowed us to fight our enemies in their preferred terain -- the air. We would never have been able to stand against them without that.) Of course talking about them makes him think of them. It's a piece of armor, like a breastplate, and there's a pair of odd 'spouts' at the back, presumably to admit the false wings.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (Oh!) Kian blinks and tilts his head the other way. (Like prosthetics. But quite primitive. We have those, of course.) The effect works both ways; Kian can't help but think about having seen someone outfitted with them, coupled with the impression that they're not common, almost odd. They would not be mistaken for natural wings up close, but at any reasonable distance they might, and they certainly seem to work, judging by Kian's memory of seeing them. (I'm not sure I would want them if anything happened to my wings,) Kian muses, adding quite matter-of-factly, (Not many do, actually. They prefer /Zha'takar/, a final flight. I suppose I might too.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion thinks about this, sort of mentally turning the image of the prosthetics over in his own mind, presuming he can see it. It seems a suitable way to deal with it, like a prosthetic arm or leg. Though he blinks a little at the notion of 'final flight'. Whether mental undertones or just that a soldier understands the many ways death occurs, he sems to understand the word. Though he does ask, (Ritual suicide?)

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (Yes.) Kian's answer is simple and straightforward. (It was the traditional action to take if one's wings were lost or irreparably damaged before prosthetics. Many still think it's the appropriate thing to do. I suppose I do too. I just don't want to have to any time soon.)
    Kian regards Dion and his wings again. (Wings up, please. Hm. It occurs to me that I'm not a priest and can't really officiate a First Flight... but you're not Akiar anyway so maybe it doesn't matter.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion nods. (That makes sense. Many of our soldiers did similar when they were too old to fight,) he responds. (It was never required, but many chose to.) He pauses again, though, as Kian reminds him about the wings. This time the movement is smoother, more quickly done. (I may be beginning to figure out where the muscles are now... hm?) He raises an eyebrow. (First Flight? Wings are not THAT easily managed, are they?) He's not going to be taking to the air immediately, he doesn't think. Going splat doesn't sound appealing!

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (Oh, no, you're nowhere near ready to take to the air yet!) Kian can't help but laugh, at least a little. (Your wing muscles are nowhere near ready. You have to glide before you can fly, you know!) He watches Dion adjust his wings. (Much better.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (And before that I need to figure out how to move them,) Dion adds. (Baby steps. Starting with getting accustomed to keeping them in this position. It does feel less uncomfortable, I admit.) Even if it's difficult to remember to keep them up there. It's a habit he hasn't developed yet.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (It will eventually come naturally.) Kian sounds sure of that, although Dion may have noticed that Kian's own wings are usually in some sort of motion - flexing and folding usually, although they have also been faithful indicators of his emotions, drooping (not as badly as Dion's, though) when sad, spreading when agitated, and the like.

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (That will take some time,) Dion notes. (But, as these things have been fastened to me, I should at least attempt to wrangle them into some semblance of order.) He bows his head again. (Your help in this is appreciated.)
    Indeed, he's noticed that Kian's wings are a reasonably good indicator of his moods. It does rather make him a little uneasy, because it tends to be animals that use their tails, wings, ears and the like to express moods. But one can hardly expect someone with animal features not to use them to communicate too...

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    (I think we can have you in the air soon,) Kian sends confidently, (but you'll need to exercise. Right now I don't think you could even support yourself for a short glide.) He looks up, with a bit of wonder in his eyes. (This will sound strange, but I've actually felt... *normal* for the longest time since arriving here.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    Dion nods to the words of exercise. (Newly-grown muscles, never used... they will definitely need proper building before they can be used.) Ruefully, he notes, (I expect to get familiar with the concept of falling.) It's a good thing he learned to 'land quickly' while using the construct wings.
    He actually smiles a bit as Kian speaks of feeling normal. (That is good. Maybe teaching someone else with new wings will help that.) By contrast, Dion doesn't feel 'normal' at all. That isn't something Kian can help, no. Being lost on a planet that isn't one's own, with none of the people familiar, must be difficult. But maybe Dion can help out some with that, being winged and all.

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian nods. (It will be the most normal thing I have done yet, I think.) He looks up at the sky. (I should go. I have been away too long. I... do not know how to tell you how to find where I am staying, or how I might find where you are staying. I know the way from the air, but that will not help you.)

Dion Archeval (811) has posed:
    (I will come back here,) Dion suggests. (I am recently arrived on this planet; I have no fixed home yet. If it is not too far from here, it should work. Take care.) Pause. (...And thank you.)

Kian t'Kaeh has posed:
    Kian nods and releases Dion's hand. He bows properly, not the abbreviated one he used on greeting. "/Kie, tavrat'h/," he says, and launches into the air with an almost careless flick of his wings, and is gone in surprisingly short order.