[center][H1][color=#f46b42]R [/color][color=#f17a57]Y [/color][color=#ee896b]L [/color][color=#f69071]A [/color][color=#fd9677]N   [/color][color=#fbb5a0]T [/color][color=#fca68c]W [/color][color=#fd9677]Y [/color][color=#f69071]F [/color][color=#ee896b]O [/color][color=#f17a57]R [/color][color=#f46b42]D [/color][/H1][/center]
[right][color=#ae9c9c][i][b]Durand Aviary[/b]
Night
Interacting with [@ambra], [@vietmyke][/i][/color][/right]

[color=silver]
In retrospect, Rylan should have figured a man approaching stryx in the dead of the night was armed. The sword the other unsheated on him made his pitchfork look little more than a [i]fork[/i]; the blade was night itself, pitch black and ominous as the torch's light danced upon its edge. On any other night, in any other place, Rylan would have backed away from the weapon with raised hands and a few choice words of surrender. But tonight he was not alone, and so he stood his ground.

Before he could question how the other thought his whisper a [i]screech[/i] however, the stryx next to him seemed to have had enough. It reared as if preparing to strike at the fool, and in an instant Rylan knew just what to do.

As was fitting for a man of his status, he [i]scurried away[/i] from the incoming carnage as fast as he could. He bore no ill will towards the dimwitted intruder, but neither was he willing to risk his life defending a man he did not know. If the other met his end by the stryx's beak, he had none to blame but himself. The idiot [i]had [/i]just waltzed into the den of carnivorous beasts with naught to offer but words. 

The screech the bird let our was inhumane, piercing through Rylan's skull like an arrow welded of thunder. The thiefling dropped his pitchfork in favour of covering both his ears - not that it made much of a difference [i]now[/i]. His ears already rung. 

Eyes cast on the ground and ears covered, he was both deaf and blind to the beating wings next to him. But he could feel the air that whipped against his side, and knew to dug even further away, closer to the ground. It did not occur to him to run away when he had the chance. 

A moment later, it was already too late. A voice broke through the night, tiny as it was compared to the screech that had deafened him. He could make out an unknown word, but though it meant noting to him, it brought the stryx to calm. His claws dug into dirt instead of flesh, and the madly beating wings had come to a stop. In a confused daze, Rylan lowered his hands and looked up at his companion.

[i]Greytail...?[/i]

It occurred to him that the stryx's tail was grey.

[color=#ee896b]"... Oh. So [i]that's[/i] your name."[/color]

Stupidly happy as knowing the stryx's name made him, Rylan could not linger on that realization for long. Another one followed soon after, striking him half-dead from startlement. The same voice that had halted Greytail in his tracks called out again, and Rylan realized what that entailed; just as he'd feared, they'd roused the Durands. They'd be lucky to survive with cut hands.

Rylan spun around to meet the approaching men, and was suddenly painfully aware of his own state of unarm. He contemplated snatching up the pitchfork that lay on his feet, but hesitated to add to his list of offenses. Perhaps, instead, he could talk his way out of this.

[color=#ee896b]"My lords, good that you came!"[/color] he exclaimed, though he knew well that neither of the approaching youngsters was of noble blood. He stabbed a finger in the direction of the other intruder, entirely unflinching. [color=#ee896b]"This crook was after your birds. I was merely---"[/color]

Before he could continue, the stranger's hood fell to his shoulders and a much more familiar voice mumbled out a nonchalant greeting. Colour drained from Rylan's face, and his pointed finger faltered. That was no bandit or thief - it was one Tristan Baske, the drunken fool he'd seen make a scene earlier that night. The Vagrant King. A noble. An entirely [i]debauched [/i]noble, but weren't they all?

The revelation rendered whatever Rylan was about to say utterly meaningless. Whatever excuse the lordling cared to offer would be worth more than anything out a thief's mouth, and Rylan wasn't ignorant of that fact. It mattered not what either of their true intentions were tonight; a name always held more weight than the man behind it.

[i]'Borrow', yeah, right.[/i]

Rylan took a few inconspicuous steps closer to Greytail, trying to use his large frame as a cover to edge away from the situation while the others were busy tending to the lord's lies. He knew it was a risky move; friendly as he was with the beast, he imagined the stryx would gut him in a second if his master so willed. But perhaps, [i]perhaps [/i]the bird would have the heart not to give away his escape if not ordered to do so. 

Ever so slowly, the scoundrel took step after step backwards, edging closer to the endless darkness that awaited him with open arms.
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