The boy and the owl
captivating-animals:

California Quail by *eaross
Time to go (Frithjofr and Molte)

lostnord:

Frithjofr raised a hand hurriedly.

'Careful, she might—'

Whatever his fears had been, however, they were unfounded. After a moment of shock that a two-legged creature would dare pick her up, the touch started to feel familiar, and as Burd recognised it was Molte holding her she settled down, burrowing her head into her feathers. It was the closest to agreement he was going to get and Frithjofr watched astounded.

'I don't know how you do that. I don't think I'll ever be that good. But I'll keep practising!'

Molte froze in a stare for a moment, watching as Burd settled in comfortably in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to think, if he was thinking at all. His heart was galloping from… embarrassment? Embarrassment at himself, he believed. It was a simple goodbye, but he couldn’t work up the courage to say he wanted to stay for a bit longer! Stupid, stupid Molte, always fumbling about like an idiot. And Burd was there, a soft ball of feathers and attitude, and he pulled her closer to his arms, gently not to rouse the little thing.

The Nord’s words registered, and Molte laughed at them, his laughter gradually turning into sobs. The Bosmer boy stood crying with the chicken in his embrace, unable to wipe at his face with his occupied hands.

Time to go (Frithjofr and Molte)

lostnord:

molteandtuuli:

Molte let out a soft surprised sound at the bump on his leg. He lifted his arm to look behind him and saw Burd looking up at him with her black buttons. He looked between the man and her, and didn’t know what to do.

"W-w-well, I think Tuuli will be jealous if he sees me spending time with another bird!" he offered, chuckling awkwardly and playing with his fingers equally awkwardly. "B-but, I wouldn’t mind coming for another visit! Thanks, for… the steak."

He lingered, cross between going and staying.

'Ah, I can understand that. Got to be careful with birds, y'know. Territorial, and all that.'

Frithjofr spoke with the air of one who had been raising birds since he could barely walk himself. His own chicken wandered over to pick at his boots for a while, thumped him in the leg as she stretched her wings and then went back to fussing over Molte.

'You're always welcome,' continued Frithjofr. 'So long's I'm here, anyway. Sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I'm in Riften, or I get lost and go to places I don't even know where they are, but if you can find me then I'll still be happy to see you. Probably even more happy, if you know how to make me not-lost.'

Molte felt sweat on his brow and his cheeks getting redder and redder by the minute. He didn’t know what to do! The nice old man was feeling like… like a friend? This was odd and new and terrifying! How did one go about having a friend? Molte didn’t know!

In his anxious haste, he did the first thing he could think of: he picked up Burd and stammered at her: “Y-y-you be a good chicken now, okay!”

Time to go (Frithjofr and Molte)

lostnord:

 

The majority of visitors who encountered the chicken left at nothing less than a sprint, complete with an angry ball of feathers and sharp, pointy talons trailing them all the way to Dragon Bridge. Burd was not one to let her prey go easily, and in any case she needed the exercise.

Today, as special treatment for her new elf friend, she only butted the back of his legs, and that was with an approximation of fondness. Probably. The beady eyes weren’t giving much away, but that she hadn’t decided to eviscerate the mer, or make a nest on his head, or peck his toes off, was an encouraging sign. Frithjofr realised it, too, and smiled at Molte.

'If you got to,' he said. 'You'll come back and visit, though, aye? I've never seen Burd being well-behaved before 'n I don't think it'll last long. She'll probably go out wolf hunting or something when you're gone.'

Molte let out a soft surprised sound at the bump on his leg. He lifted his arm to look behind him and saw Burd looking up at him with her black buttons. He looked between the man and her, and didn’t know what to do.

"W-w-well, I think Tuuli will be jealous if he sees me spending time with another bird!" he offered, chuckling awkwardly and playing with his fingers equally awkwardly. "B-but, I wouldn’t mind coming for another visit! Thanks, for… the steak."

He lingered, cross between going and staying.

Time to go (Frithjofr and Molte)

Molte was taken over by the strangest of feelings.

Dusk was slowly falling over Skyrim, tinting the trees in a soft orange hue. The air was chillier than earlier, and the little Bosmer felt like it was tolling his time away. Telling him it was time to go.

He didn’t want to go. The silly Nord and the haughty chicken were the nicest company he had had in what felt like years, but how did you go about telling someone you wanted to stick around and be the bothersome nuisance you must’ve been?

“I… I think I’ll go now,” he said quietly, digging his heels into the ground at the Nord’s hut.

I tried getting in the Fallout 3 rp scene but nowhere can compare to the people you’ve been familiar with for a year at least.

I’m knee deep in college again, but somebody wanna do something short and sweet? uvu

Surprise (Marleigh and Molte)

Bare feet swung lazily in the air, boots discarded somewhere near the owner. Molte’s fingers were dipped in the chilly water of the small pond. A giggle or two escaped his lips. The little baby fishes were eating his fingers! Well, it was more like tickling, but anyway!

As he continued chuckling to himself and wiggling around while keeping his hands still, the pond remained as calm as ever. A brush of wind ruffled his short hair, the leaves rustled together and grass moved gently.