17 Dec 2018, 06:18
Helping Stinker
This is a rp with @Juliette Thomas and continues the thread started at Griffith's door.
A resting angry look? Owls often had that kind of look, and he quietly wondered if he looked grumpy all the time because a grubby little kid kept ruffling his feathers and forcing love down his cranky owl throat. It made him happy to hear a name that showed such childish fun. It wasn't some weird name with a ton of hidden meanings and important family value that was passed down from a dead grandmother that was their only comfort or something. He looked grumpy, so that's what she called him. It was so pure and amusing that he was already planning on making it the owl's official name.
"Those sound like very nice names. I think you should keep them."
When she pulled out a bag of owl treats, he raised an eyebrow. How was he supposed to know what was in a weird brown treat? Was that something she had picked up at a muggle shop or was that something in diagon alley? He wasn't really up to date with popular anything, much less new age owl treats. Or for all he knew they were homemade, regardless of what it was, it'd be nice to know a bit more about the owls diet.
"Do you know what the treats have in them?"
When she asked what his favorite magical creature was, he had to think a little bit. It was a difficult question to answer, and one that he had thought about for a long time. It was a constant question in his CoMC class back when he was a little student, and back then he had said “puppy” or “dragon” intermittently. But the more he grew the less clear it actually became. Why did he love one over the other, anyway? So he had gradually developed the closest thing to an answer he had, although it was a bit like a cop-out.
“My favorite creature is a happy creature.”
They arrived at the owlery, with feathery birds ruffling feathers everywhere.
“Now, which one is he?”
“If this is a complaint would you mind sending it with an owl? It's easier to ignore."
17 Dec 2018, 07:40
Helping Stinker
She smiled a bit at him when he said she should keep the silly names she had given the owl. It was true, after all, she didn't know owls needed big fancy names. She didn't think she had a right in naming him at all but she figured a nickname would be alright. However, if she had her own owl it'd be a different story. She couldn't wait till she was allowed an owl. Growing up, she wasn't allowed around her families owls. Her parents thought she had no business trying to "play" with them. Which was probably right at that age but now she was older she just liked watching them. When he asked what was in the owl treats she had to stop and think about it before slowly replying.
"I... I'm actually not sure. My aunt sent them when she heard I felt bad for not thanking him for sending all of my letters. I know she said she made them but that's all I know.."
She trailed off rather guiltily and she rubbed the back of her neck as they kept walking. Well, she was half running to keep up with him. She hoped he wasn't angry with her for not knowing exactly what was in them. When she heard his response about his favorite creature she was puzzled. How do you tell if creatures are happy? She thought it would be awfully hard to tell if a dragon was happy. As they were climbing the stairs she didn't even know if stinker was happy. She tried not to pester him to often but she loved to sit in the owlery and watch them all. He was her favorite to watch simply because he would look at her while she was watching him when the others didn't seem to either care or mind her presence. She sighed heavily. Creatures were hard to understand and she hasn't even met any magical ones yet. Her mood turned sour once she realized she was potentially making the owl uncomfortable. With that in mind, once they got there she timidly pointed him out.
"Right there.. the smaller barn owl on the left." As she moved forward she noticed he was sleeping but in a rather odd position that didn't look very comfortable. Her frown deepened and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, almost like an attempt to disappear. She felt awful she didn't tell anyone right away. She felt like she let the small owl down for letting him sit in pain for this long.
"I... I'm actually not sure. My aunt sent them when she heard I felt bad for not thanking him for sending all of my letters. I know she said she made them but that's all I know.."
She trailed off rather guiltily and she rubbed the back of her neck as they kept walking. Well, she was half running to keep up with him. She hoped he wasn't angry with her for not knowing exactly what was in them. When she heard his response about his favorite creature she was puzzled. How do you tell if creatures are happy? She thought it would be awfully hard to tell if a dragon was happy. As they were climbing the stairs she didn't even know if stinker was happy. She tried not to pester him to often but she loved to sit in the owlery and watch them all. He was her favorite to watch simply because he would look at her while she was watching him when the others didn't seem to either care or mind her presence. She sighed heavily. Creatures were hard to understand and she hasn't even met any magical ones yet. Her mood turned sour once she realized she was potentially making the owl uncomfortable. With that in mind, once they got there she timidly pointed him out.
"Right there.. the smaller barn owl on the left." As she moved forward she noticed he was sleeping but in a rather odd position that didn't look very comfortable. Her frown deepened and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, almost like an attempt to disappear. She felt awful she didn't tell anyone right away. She felt like she let the small owl down for letting him sit in pain for this long.
*Juliette Thomas
25 Dec 2018, 23:16
Helping Stinker
The girl didn’t really know what was in the owl treats, which was perfectly fine. Looking at the little bird she was gesturing to, it became rather apparent that it wasn’t something to do with the diet, so he more or less just let it slide, with a calm little assurance that
“Don’t worry about it, just curious. I like making my own treats, you know.”
He moved towards the owl with the same confident walk that had carried him to the owlery in the first place, although now it was a lot slower. When he got within about five feet of the owl, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black sock. It was surprisingly big, and made of thick wool, fuzzy and soft, and a bit weird to be carrying about in your pocket. But he just smiled, took another step towards, the owl, and then darted one hand forward, in a jab aiming for the air right next to the owl’s head. It tried to make a little hop backwards in surprise, but the other hand had moved at the same time, and popped the sock down over the owl’s head.
The owl began to flap, starting to move its wings outwards, to push up on the air and launch it into the air, but he gave up and just sat there, perfectly docile. It only took a minute for griffith to exame the wing that was being held gingerly, look it over from all sides, and gently feel along its length. When he did so, the owl shifted about and flapped it’s good wing in discomfort. The bone seemed fine, so he felt in between the wing feathers, and instantly answered his own question. Moving his hand through the feathers, ever so gently, calm and soft, he stopped by the base of the wing. He had found it. A shifting of the hand, and then he turned back to the girl, pulling the sock of the now indignant owl.
“Nothing to worry about. Stinker here is molting, and a pin feather went awry. Try to not pet her for a couple weeks while her new feathers grow in. Sometimes, a pin feather can rub up against the body of the bird and wrench it a bit, which is what happened here. She was just trying to hold her wing away from her body to stop it from getting worse. I moved it back in place, and it should be the end of it. But if this happens again, come and get me, okay?
See you around, kid. I can tell you’ll go places in Care of Magical Creatures, if that’s what you want to do.”
And then he turned around and walked out of the room. Calm, confident, and craving a hamburger. A pin feather like that was actually surprisingly dangerous. It could have easily gotten infected, has the girl not spotted it. And helping a creature always put him in a better mood, anyway.
“Don’t worry about it, just curious. I like making my own treats, you know.”
He moved towards the owl with the same confident walk that had carried him to the owlery in the first place, although now it was a lot slower. When he got within about five feet of the owl, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black sock. It was surprisingly big, and made of thick wool, fuzzy and soft, and a bit weird to be carrying about in your pocket. But he just smiled, took another step towards, the owl, and then darted one hand forward, in a jab aiming for the air right next to the owl’s head. It tried to make a little hop backwards in surprise, but the other hand had moved at the same time, and popped the sock down over the owl’s head.
The owl began to flap, starting to move its wings outwards, to push up on the air and launch it into the air, but he gave up and just sat there, perfectly docile. It only took a minute for griffith to exame the wing that was being held gingerly, look it over from all sides, and gently feel along its length. When he did so, the owl shifted about and flapped it’s good wing in discomfort. The bone seemed fine, so he felt in between the wing feathers, and instantly answered his own question. Moving his hand through the feathers, ever so gently, calm and soft, he stopped by the base of the wing. He had found it. A shifting of the hand, and then he turned back to the girl, pulling the sock of the now indignant owl.
“Nothing to worry about. Stinker here is molting, and a pin feather went awry. Try to not pet her for a couple weeks while her new feathers grow in. Sometimes, a pin feather can rub up against the body of the bird and wrench it a bit, which is what happened here. She was just trying to hold her wing away from her body to stop it from getting worse. I moved it back in place, and it should be the end of it. But if this happens again, come and get me, okay?
See you around, kid. I can tell you’ll go places in Care of Magical Creatures, if that’s what you want to do.”
And then he turned around and walked out of the room. Calm, confident, and craving a hamburger. A pin feather like that was actually surprisingly dangerous. It could have easily gotten infected, has the girl not spotted it. And helping a creature always put him in a better mood, anyway.
“If this is a complaint would you mind sending it with an owl? It's easier to ignore."