Buzzard on the other hand was loving this kid’s presence. Alright, maybe loving was a strong word. Little dude was annoying as hell—as all kids are—but they could tolerate him. He was trio’s golden ticket to a god damn smorgasbord. Plus he provided good entertainment. Seeing Condor this annoyed was the funniest shit they’ve ever seen.
This fight hadn’t even started yet and Buzzard was already bursting out laughing. Hey, don’t be mean to Sparky!
That’s his name now, cause he always sparked a fire in Condor. Eh?? Good shit right?
Buzzard moves to the boy’s side and slapped a paw on his shoulder. Kid’s dumb but he ain’t stupid. I’m sure he’s caught on by now.
"Darlings!" Vulture was definitely not doing anything grand in these moments. She barely met anyone, only travelling around, moving- doing nothing. She couldn't even sexify anyone when there was only the damnable mountain goats around! It was such a shame, she should've just gone with her siblings. The vixen held deep regret, but obviously, her pride wouldn't let her leave until she had her own story to bring back.
Destiny, seemed to say otherwise, and her delightful siblings came.. With a kid.
"Wait, my math must be wrong, I couldn't have been gone long- surely one of you didn't get knocked up right? Wow, what sluts!"
The willowy silver-piece had went with them so verily, witherward;
Astraeus didn't know what kind of tag this was, but the thrumming of that little pulse in his breast: it wisps, no, no it barks that this is wrong (wrong, wrong, wrong). Win their game, tread to hearthside, away from the rise, find limestone rest, let illusionary wants manifest in the subconscious of his mind, little prince alone in a dreamscape eldritch majesties; becharmed, fantasia. But now he was caught, betwixt twain putrid feinds, and now triple! Just how damned was he? Oh, how he wished it never would be;
all the same, he could not chip off form the trio and dash, as daggertooths that had been flaunted but a hairsbreadth from his withering little crown, and oft he has to reprimand himself when he thinks to scurry away. Little cowbird envies the pearl that did dawn this epithet on him, romping in the familiars of home and melting into the frame of her mother as sleeps, peacefully. Home, I want to go —
“Home,”
is all he pipes, waxen throat melts and dribbles down into lung as petrified lashes widen, viridian globes searching for any kind of answer, features knit solemnly half-fearful and half-demanding, just a sliver of reprieve is all he wishes for, now.
I will not get cold feet,
they shot back. Calling him ‘it’ is boring. If he ain’t gonna give us a name, then imma call him Sparky, and you can’t do anything about it.
Even if he did say his name, they’d still call him Sparky cause that was clever as shit. It’s one of the best names they’d ever pulled out their ass. It’s the only name they’d ever pulled out of their ass.
Vulture made a dramatic entrance, because of course she did. It’s like she rehearsed this shit. She came in with a witty reaction and everything.
Their sibling’s back and forth gave them a damn headache. They were almost too exhausted to snicker at Condor’s retort. Smarter and prettier? Ha! Keep dreamin’.
Sparky spoke up soon after. Finally. His silence was getting a little creepy.
Poor little guy wanted to go home. Well that’s too damn bad! The fun hasn’t even started yet. Yeah kid, you got some work to do. Don’t worry, the pay’s great.
Great for the trio at least. Condor probably wouldn’t be on board with sharing the spoils with the kid.
"You sure? You lookin' like you packin' some weight, honey." Vulture gave a run-around stare of his body, cocking a brow and definitely, unpolitely looking at Condor's stomach. Could've been a fling back in the canyon, and only now gave birth. Never knew her siblings as whores, and thought she was the vixen- what a shocker.
"It's callin for home, where'd you get him?"
Did they really kidnap a pup. Sure they steal prey, maybe any other pretty trinkets they may find, but a living being?
Seemed dope.
Violent and perplex blinking sufficed for the triad's only reply;
his stormy olives borderline threatening to well up, the palpations in his chest rattling porcelain ribs. Unawares of crescent teeth ripping away at the skin inside his mouth and his lips, the argent whimpers inferring pay was in fact "pain". “B-But I don't want to hurt! Can we go home now? The game is overrrrr,” the cowbird yips as he quails from the breath of captors.