#forestofforever. sylvestor

[townofcadence]

@forestofforever from x!

The crow had been busy. The forest had more visitors than usual, and as the Heart's right-hand man, he had to keep an eye on all of them. While he was perfectly capable of flying long distances and working long days, this day was longer than most, and he'd been flying for quite a while. Perhaps this was why he smacked into a branch at full force, unable to dodge it, causing him to plummet from the sky with a severe lack of grace. He landed in front of a visitor, though he already knew this one. This visitor had been approved by the Heart, even so, the crow was eager to get away. As he flapped his wings however, a sharp pain caused him to collapse again. Seemed he was more injured than he'd realized.

Artair near jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of crashing leaves and branches. But when he saw the crow land in a heap of feathers, any caution leaves him in a flurry of concern. The crow returns to its feet after a stunned moment on the ground, and he watches it with wide eyes.

And clearly, the poor guy hit something on the way down or-- several somethings. The wing was injured, bent at an awkward angle and dragging the ground. The barbs of its feathers were bent out of shape as well.

"Oh-- you poor thing." His voice bleeds with worry. "That looked like a bad fall." He tries to keep his voice soothing and low--- he doesn't want to stress the bird more. The whole place buzzes with magic around him, so he can't tell anything from the animal but pain, and he can only imagine trying to handle it would just scare it further, so he keeps his distance. But he doesn't want to leave it like this, either. The crow was injured, and he didn't want something else to come along and make it a meal.

...It was just a small animal. It wouldn't affect him much to use a little magic, right? He couldn't just leave it to suffer. That just wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be.

Artair crouches down, flicking his attention between the still recovering crow and his bag. "Hang on, I know you can't understand me. But I should have something that can help..." His voice trails away as he begins rooting through the satchel.

[townofcadence]

@forestofforever from x:

Why did this always happen? Sylvester could only lament the fact that leaving the house more often than not meant having a panic attack within minutes of setting foot outside. Blame the bloody ambulance that screeched past, sirens blaring, causing bad memories to resurface instantly and leaving Sylvester on his knees, covering his ears and desperately gasping for breath. The other's words were barely any comfort at all... and still, barely any comfort was still comfort, which was more than he was used to. He managed to regain some control over his breathing, enough to at least muster the energy to look at the other and make brief eye contact.

Artair is crouched beside him, though he isn't touching him. Some found the contact grounding, but for others, it was all the more overwhelming. He didn't know the guy, he just felt the spike of panic and had--- looked for the source. Finding him on his knees made it clear he was the one Artair was feeling, like a pounding beat in his chest and a rapid scrambling static to his brain.

So, beside him he was, careful not to crowd him. "Hey, I know it's a lot. If it's too much to speak, that's okay, but if there's something I can do, I want to help. If you can....try to breathe with me? Nice and slow. Match my rhythm." His voice is calm and even. He slows his breathing-- the guy seemed like he might be doing a little better, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. "May I touch you? I can try to help you move somewhere more private, if you'd like. You can just nod or shake your head."

[townofcadence]

"Well... it's nice to meet you then, Crow." Artair nods, before passing into the clearing with him. The change is-- immediate, being so close to someone like this. He heartbeat picks up, like a surge of adrenaline being so steeped in--- what defines the very forest he stands in. It's hard to focus on anything else, though he notes the bird and the attention that Crow is given on approach.

"Oh--- it was no trouble." Artair finally speaks when he's addressed, seeming to remember himself like the afterthought he is. "I didn't really do anything. And-- you don't have to worry about that, either." He waves a hand, almost as if to wave away the very notion. "It's just a bruise and a rib--- and I heal pretty fast. So there's really no need to waste the energy."

The crow tilts his head slightly as Artair continues to talk to him. He's not wrong, a lot of people die around these parts, though it should be noted that innocent people who mean well are spared a decent amount of the time... though not always, it depends entirely on how hungry the creatures that you encounter happen to be.

"Name?" The crow furrows his brows slightly. He had a human name at some point, though he hasn't used it in... years? Centuries? A long time, either way. He can't remember it though admittedly he doesn't try very hard to recall it, it's not important. "Just...crow." Is his eventual reply.

They enter a clearing. The Heart is leaning against a large oak tree, seemingly talking to a small, brown bird before noticing Artair and the crow. The bird quickly takes off as he turns to look at them. "Ah, how lucky that you two found each other. Well done on disposing of that hunter, crow." He scratches the crow's face, fingers running between the feathers. The crow seems rather pleased with this.

"I must thank you for helping my dear crow, though I do believe a little more than a simple, spoken thanks is in order. Won't you let me heal you?"

[townofcadence]

"Oh...." Artair thinks. "Well. Thank you for helping me, then. I guess it was okay because they'd hurt something in the forest, then." He then shakes his head. "No-- no, you don't have to answer that. It's kinda obvious. I just-- don't want to be the reason you get in trouble."

He laces his hands behind his back. There's a level of something-- he can only assume it's eagerness. Which means they're probably getting close. Already he can feel it-- that steady beat he'd felt the first time he'd come close to the heart. It feels like it pulses through the very air, rife with magic that buzzes along his skin in a primal surge.

"I... know I've said it kind of, but... thank you." He repeats. "I know a lot of people don't make it out of here. That's why there's all the stories. I.... just want you to know that I appreciate your help." He pauses. "I... hate to make you say anything else when I'm sure it's not the most comfortable. But ah.... do you have a name, at all? One I could call you?"

Artair seems to understand the situation, which is good. Yes, it is easy to displease the Heart. He is protective over this place as well as over the creatures that live in it, outsiders are given the chance to exist here as long as they do not cause harm, but one tiny mistake is all it takes for that chance to be taken away. Too many people had already squandered their one chance, and the Heart had grown rather cynical and bitter as a result.

"Yes... and no." The crow replies while actively moving away to keep his distance. "I was...born... because of...the forest. I am... a part of it." And he was. The very magic that runs through the forest runs through his veins as well, and he can feel the constant presence of the Heart in the back of his mind. "But I am...not safe from... reper...cussions." Just because creatures from the forest were protected by the Heart, that did not mean they could not be punished if they disobeyed direct orders or existing rules. "But I... physically cannot...disobey. So it is...hardly a concern."

The other could claim that healing him was nothing, but the crow knew that was untrue. Using magic in order to aid someone was worth something, at least. Keeping him safe was the least the crow could do. It was a good thing that they were getting closer to the heart now, though, since the crow was admittedly itching to don his feathers once more.

[townofcadence]

A new sensation was there. Concern added to the mix, though about what, he had no inkling. He kind of doubted it was himself; after all, he was giving this poor crow guy so much more work to do just by being here and injured. Sure, it wasn't so bad, just a bruise and a rib, but... he supposed any weakness might be weakness enough.

"I see... so the heart allows entrance, but it's not..... very hard to get on their bad side. I guess being connected to the whole forest, every little action against the place counts." He speaks in a tone that is thinking aloud rather than expecting any kind of reply. "I guess it makes sense. I'm not from the woods and the wood will always be the priority if you're a part of it."

He leans forward, looking up at the guy at an angle, some of his hair draping down in a curtain at the angle. "Are you from the woods then? So you're safe from repercussions? Oh-- sorry. Getting carried away. You don't have to answer that. And-- don't worry about what I did. That doesn't really count as anything." He waves a hand, and with a swish he's back to standing straight as someone like him can manage. "I just did it because I wanted to. But you didn't have a choice. So-- it's not something I'd want you to owe me for."

"You are...hurt. They will... see you...easy prey." He did his best to explain. "You are...not allowed...to hurt...them. Heart wouldn't...like that." He doesn't think the other is weak, he's seen the magic he can wield and from that alone assumes Artair must be capable of protecting himself, but he also knows that if Artair harms one of the forest's creatures, even in self-defense or purely by accident, he would no longer be welcome in this place. Hell, he might not even get a chance to leave. Not alive, anyway.

The Heart is the biggest threat after all, and while the crow may not realize it, that's probably what he's protecting Artair from. By staying close to Artair, no creature would dare to approach. One look at the crow's hands and they'd head the other way. By keeping them away, nobody would be getting harmed. Not Artair, not the other creatures in the forest. A perfect solution, as far as the crow was concerned.

"You owe me...nothing." He was only doing what he was supposed to: protect the forest. Protect a guest that the Heart had shown an interest in. "You...healed me." That was payment enough, wasn't it? He didn't thank Artair for it, but since he'd saved Artair's life and was now escorting him to the Heart, he didn't think that was necessary. Not like he'd know, he hadn't exactly been exposed to any social norms.

[townofcadence]

It's very strange speaking to someone who--- feels so little. Most of what he's picking up just seems to be-- confusion, frustration, discomfort. It's fair if this isn't something he's used to; how many others had really been given rights to be here? He can't imagine The Heart is terribly open to newcomers. Though... he's here. So maybe it's kind of an open policy until you do something wrong?

"Oh...." Well, that made sense, though... he didn't really need protecting. "Well...thank you. For explaining to me." Even he could feel the coarseness in his own throat. He didn't want to reflect that concern, in case it be taken as pity. "I think I can handle myself and it's not that big a worry, but... I won't stop you if it makes you feel better. I guess you usually don't have to explain--- sorry for the trouble." He tries to keep his voice light, not filled with the worry he feels for this poor guy, instead tucking hair behind his ear.

"I hope nothing bothers us then. I'd hate for you to have to do that if you didn't have to. But.... it's nice of you. I guess I owe you one, haha. Or two, actually."

The entire situation is so different from what he's used to, it's genuinely a bit jarring. People don't usually worry about him and they don't generally bother talking to him either, he doesn't quite know how to feel about it. Adding to that, the other's playful tone completely goes over his head.

From what the other is saying, it's clear he doesn't understand the way things work here. The crow doesn't care about being comfortable, straining himself is simply part of the task he's currently fulfilling, it doesn't matter what he wants, he's here to serve a purpose and he is doing just that.

"No." He croaks. It's frustrating that talking takes this much effort. There are things that he wants to communicate to Artair, but unless he manages to speak the words, he won't be able to. As unpleasant as it is, he proceeds to squeeze out a few more words, even as it takes tremendous effort.

"I have to... protect you... If I... change back... can't do that." He stares intently at the other, making sure he's listening. "Things here...could... kill you...very quickly. But I...can kill them...faster." He has to pause in between words and the act of speaking makes his throat feel like he's swallowed sandpaper, but he's managed it. An accomplishment if there ever was one.

[townofcadence]

Artair doesn't seem to mind, and in reality-- he doesn't. The man helped him, and his hands reminded him of Caelan's. And Caelan could basically disintegrate things with his eyes. Maybe he was similar in some way-- but even if he wasn't, he wasn't the guy's problem as it was. He was always one to take care of himself. Undeterred, he follows behind.

But like this, he can feel that discomfort, the overwhelming.... something, that the guy emanates with. His eyes crease with concern, the longer he walks, mouth thinning as well. The guy kinda reminds him of a newborn deer, trying to find his feet, unsteady and unsure. Even the answer to his question seems like it was hard to give, and he rubs his neck with the arm not curled against his chest.

"That's good to know, thank you." He acknowledges the effort first. It was more than he should've had to do for him. "But ah... don't feel the need to strain yourself too much. You've had a rough day already." It comes out a little playful, a respite of levity, as their trek takes them away. "I don't know where we're going but--- I can follow you. If you'd rather travel differently? If you keep to low branches, I could probably see you easy enough. Ah-- and you don't have to answer. You can just-- nod or shake your head. Please don't strain yourself." His worry leaked through just a little; this person had known him for little time at all and already done so much in that brief span.

The Crow keeps his distance, hands kept closely to himself. To a stranger it might seem rude, he should be helping Artair back on his feet, should be supporting him, but doing so would kill him. Appearing rude is probably the better option here.

Existing in this shape always feels awkward and his discomfort shows in the way he moves. He's too big, too close to the ground. He can't remember what facial expressions humans are supposed to make and he can't touch anything.

Still, he has to remain like this a little longer. It'll be easier to guide the other this way, and more importantly, it'll be easier to protect him. Who knew if the hunter had brought any friends along? Hell, even if the hunter hadn't, creatures of the forest might still see Artair as an easy target since he was hurt.

The crow turns to look at the other as the question is asked, and he gives a firm nod in response. "Yes." He manages to get the word out, though his voice sounds raspy and strained, and he grimaces slightly right after speaking the word.

[townofcadence]

Okay. It seems the feathered man who was a crow can't really speak, maybe? The sounds he's making are definitely far closer to bird calls. Maybe his vocal chords don't work that way? Or maybe the human shape is just one that's made for defending the forest.

Whatever the case may be, the crow clearly understands him to some degree. After all, they had approached when he offered help, lingered through the spell despite it probably being strange or frightening, and even now, the crow had understood the danger enough to protect him, and wanted him to follow.

"Ah-- okay. Follow you, got it." He acknowledges, before sliding his bag back on, and taking a slow moment to stand. Using a tree helps, and once he's up and had a moment to catch his breath and steady any pains, Artair trots almost normally behind the strange figure.

Once in step behind him, Artair laces the prosthetic behind his back, the other hand helping him brace while they walked in what he hoped seemed casual 'please don't trip' motions. "Can you.... understand me?" He's sure he knows the answer, but he feels he needs to ask it anyway. "You can just nod or shake your head, if you want. And you don't have to answer at all if you don't want to. But I'm curious."

The crow would like to tell Artair that there is no need to thank him; he was made to take care of situations such as this one, to swoop in whenever the first line of defense was not enough, to dispose of any unsavory individuals who clearly intended to bring harm. It was his entire reason for existing, the reason he was created.

And the hunter had to die, he had attacked the forest and killed one of its inhabitants, he was a threat that had to be destroyed. Not only that, but Artair was considered a welcome guest by the Heart, which didn't grant him protection from the creatures of the forest itself, but it did in fact mean that the forest would do its best to protect him from outsiders.

The crow wishes he could tell the visitor as much, but alas, when he opens his mouth, he only manages to produce a slew of caws, croaks, and clicks. He could speak in a human tongue and he knew as much, but he doesn't seem to be able to produce a single word as of right now. It's been a while since he'd spoken to anyone, his task did not usually involve conversation.

It wasn't important, all that mattered was that he should bring the visitor someplace safe. Leaving him here while weakened would mean that either some outsider or a hungry creature from the forest would try to snatch him up. Artair had healed him, and the crow would try to return the favor. He is not capable of healing, his hands only bring death, but the Heart should be able to patch the other up. The crow beckons the other to follow him.

[townofcadence]

Artair was busy wiping at his nose, when he felt something. And within seconds, someone had made their way between the trees. The intentions were clear by the words alone, but he could feel the hot thread of poisonous hatred levied towards this place as well. Towards him, where he sat. And then a gun is lifted.

His heart thuds heavy in his chest. A scar throbs in sudden recollection at seeing the barrel. He sees the body of something in his hand, but it's hard to look away. You only aimed at what you intended to kill, that was what he knew of guns. But between the hunting rifle, the vitriol burning at his lungs, and something else, he freezes.

The chain of events seems to cascade almost too fast to follow. The safety isn't on, the gun is raised, and the crow flies. He expects it to fluttter away out of fear, but then it dives, and the feathers seem to shed a few at a time and then all at once, almost like a coat being shed. Pale skin and dark hair breach them, following a hand that reaches outward the same color as the deepest ink.

He hardly has time to even acknowledge any of these facts. With scarce but a touch, the man is--- gone. All those feelings filling him like an empty vessel from him snuffed as entirely as his body had been, in an instant.

He stares at the body, lifeless in the grass, and then upwards towards who had protected him. His lungs are tight, but not out of fear. He isn't sure what the tangled thing is, but the scattering of bird-like sounds drag him back away from it. The question is said, and he nods, a small thing that feels so very delicate.

"I think so...." He manages, looking back at the body. He wonders if he could've... been faster, said the right thing, or at least been smart enough not to be so indiscreet about what he was doing. He doesn't even really feel bad, that someone died, but something about that feels worse. He chews on his lip.

"Thank you. For-- helping me. You could've just left, but... you didn't." He adds, shaking his head. The hunter had already killed something, some kind of two-headed wolf, and the Heart made the rules clear when he'd entered the wood himself. He didn't know what he planned to do to him, but likely it was something just as bad as becoming a pelt, if not worse with the way he spoke. The way he felt.

It was already done too. And while the idea of someone dying for him was...hard to swallow, he couldn't deny he was glad whatever the hunter planned fell through. "I... owe you one. Not a fan of getting shot." He attempts a weak laugh. "Didn't expect the bird I'd been talking at to uh. Turn into a guy and swoop in to the rescue, that's for sure."

It's all new to the crow. Sure, the Heart is capable of using magic, the entire forest is kept alive through this magic alone, and he too was made with this magic, and yet this is completely different and utterly fascinating. He may not understand what purpose these plants serve, but from the ritual around it, he imagines they must serve one.

The sensation is vaguely unpleasant. Perhaps it's the fact that he is already made of magic, and this magic is now being forced to make way for this strange, new magic. Perhaps it's just how this is supposed to feel. He isn't sure. He hasn't been hurt all that many times before, even with the forest being dangerous.

Even the most dangerous creatures know to stay clear of him.

He's grateful to the visitor. He can tell the other is doing... not as well as he was doing before he cast the spell. It cost him something, seems to have harmed him in some way. Before the crow has any time to dwell on this thought, however, there is the sound of approaching footsteps and a strange voice.

"Another one of these magical freaks, huh? I'm sure we can make use of ya."

A gruff-looking man enters the clearing, dragging a wolf with two heads, a Daubenblaid, behind him. It's alarming. The Daubenblaid were little more than mindless creatures made to guard this place, but if someone got past them, that usually meant trouble.

As soon as the hunter approaches, everything seems to happen very fast. The hunter raises a rifle and points it at Artair, then the crow, in turn, flies closer and seems to disappear into a flurry of black feathers.

From the feathers emerges a man. He's pale, except for his hands and forearms, which are the color of a cloudless night sky. He does still have some feathers jutting out of his arms, neck, and framing his face, but besides that, he looks surprisingly human.

The crow, now a man, lunges for the hunter, his fingers only grazing the hunter's arm, but oddly, this seems to be enough. That touch, small as it might be, causes the life to leave the hunter instantly. As the hunter collapses onto the forest floor, the crow turns to look at Artair. He caws a few times, until the sound that he makes almost sounds like a word.

"okay?"

[townofcadence]

At least it didn't seem like he was stressing the crow out further. In fact, it was coming closer that before. If it wasn't injured, he'd probably be excited to be this close to such a beautiful bird, but instead, he kept himself focused on the task at hand. Out came a rolled satchel, and a packet. The packet had sunflower seeds in it, which he placed near the bird. They weren't magical, just run of the mill sunflower seeds, but hopefully the crow would find food an additional bonus, and it would preoccupy it until he had finished his spell.

Artair unravels the pack and collects a few plants. Yarrow. Buck Bush. Prickly pear, and a jar of prepared ashwagandha. "Don't worry. This shouldn't take but a minute." He says it mostly to fill the silence, pulling a mortar and pestle from his bag. It didn't take long to add the plants together, and crush them into a powder. They were mixed with a different salve from his pack, water from a crystal spring, ground abalone shell and shards of amber ,and a little vaseline and honey and added to make a paste. Said paste is sprinkled in small clumps in a circle around the crow. Good enough.

Out comes his book. He sits on his knees, and begins to read. The runes on his arm take on a brighter, gold glow, which mirrors the same glimmer beginning to overtake the edge of the ring. He speaks fast, so he can finish before the crow might leave, but steady so he doesn't mess up the spell. It's the Irish tongue, so it flows natural from him, but one little mis-step was all it took.

A gentle hand moved to the crow, brushing barely against its feathers, before he carefully lifted and aligned the wing. The sensation probably itched, the feeling of anything broken or torn knitting, mending, and not in the proper configuration as Artair held the wing between a thumb and forefinger while he spoke. His arm holding the wing burned, glowing sigils saering against the skin near the bend of his forearm, mirroring the injury on the crow. He knew the damage was erasing, parted cells reconnecting and tissues repairing and the smallest level at a speed beyond natural. His arm was starting to hurt, but he didn't mind it. It wasn't something he didn't know how to power through. Magic burned through his skin, tattooing him with energy in vivid golds and greens.

He weaves the last few threads of magic with his voice, and with a snap, the spell concludes. There's a sensation like something snapping back into place, and a sizzle. Artair's hand releases the wing almost immediately, curling close to himself and his chest. The wing itself is still tender, but the improvement is a dramatic one; the pain is gone. There' a buzz of energy in the air, revitalizing. The greenery around is only more lush, bursting with blooms of flowers.

Artair lets out a prolonged breath. The ingredients for his circle wither to ash as the spell begins to fade, the glow dimming into nothing. He rubs at his arm, and then wipes at his face where a small bleed had started. Nothing too bad at least. Just a rib and a mild sprain.

Blotting a beading of cold sweat from his brow, Artair packed up his things. He'd probably get grief for this later, but.... he couldn't not help someone in need. If it helped, then it was worth it, even for a little bird.

He notes the crow, and smile with a pinch of strain. "What a model patient. You're free to go now, buddy."

Yes, it had been a bad fall, and he was a poor thing. The crow didn't usually pay much attention to how he felt, that wasn't part of his job description after all, but he definitely did feel a bit sorry for himself at the moment.

While he did understand everything that the other was saying, he made no attempt to communicate this fact with the visitor. Sure, he could explain himself, but there didn't seem to be any need. While he had not been born as a bird, and technically his "human" shape was his original state of being, he much preferred to don his feathers. Many people were kinder to animals, and they rarely expected an animal to engage in conversation.

He would've gone to the Heart to get his wing fixed if the visitor hadn't been here, though it had to be said, having to move through this place while injured, most likely on foot since clearly his wings were not fit for flying in their current state, was not an ideal situation. If this person could fix it, then the crow would gladly let him.

He approached, carefully, showing that he was not afraid of the stranger and willing to let him help, looking at him expectantly.