Ankyra Sound twelve-hundred people dead or left to die

knowing it was mostly his fault that the female caught her illness with his having worked her up in a tizzy of excitement and outrage, the shithead bird knew he had some manner of civic duty to relieve her of her indisposition. he was not a menace with the intent to inflict outright misery on the quarry of his mischief. not outright. subtle misery was a far more comfortable niche, possessing him of the advantage of moral rectitude.

having a small repertoire of herbal remedies, bartok knew roughly what ground to cover on his short errand and the time sensitivity it necessitated. he traveled in a low-hanging and searching manner for about a mile, sonic-ing through the backcountry and by way of a scudding arrow into the rural plains where their creeks were aplenty.

his beady eyes scoured down below until he spied what he was looking for – the flowering violet tops of raw peppermint, thriving under the shade and frost of a nearby stream. luckily for caiaphas they maintained through winter, and it's anti-anemic properties would help settle her gut. prising the plant by its root, he collected the leaves in his beak and off he went back in the direction of his code red patient.

he returned to her like a underachieving homing pigeon might return after mailing its letter addressed to canada, to the dunes of istanbul, defaulting to his idiosyncratic talent for a complete deficit of elegance as he came plunging down the airfield. acrobatics, mf: killed it.

his tousled wings enveloped his sides and he hop-skilled up the scrawny hinds of the balled-up queen, hiking to the crown of her head and holding himself steady there, his wings fanned out to balance himself knowing well she would reel back to scrutinize the twit that now claimed occupancy on her roof. he would have clung to her tiara… if she had one. he would have to throw something together for her later.

he peered down, cocking his head as he examined the bold canary yellow of her eyes. "hello sunshine! hello!" he gloried most pleasantly before leaping from his pedestal – a most grand dismount – and shifting on his lil twiggies to face her at a distance that promised him the most fail-safe immunity against the jowls that frothed and bubbled from the mucus of her expulsions. he delicately placed the beakful of greenery near her dainty flippers.

"this! herbivore, yaaas? down the hatch!" he advised. "do not reguuurgitate! none of that again!" he tsked and then continued to explain, "the pep-pep-peppermint will help! you will feel better." he smiled up at the coywof, canting his head expectantly. he squinted and stared at the twilit countenance before him and the glim disparity affixed there. he puffed up in a fuss of sudden marvel. "beauty! beauty! what eyes!" he paused in his roosing.. "comp-liments the greeeenish of face."