Ruffled Feathers {August 3009} [Darelle]
May 9, 2018 10:37:51 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on May 9, 2018 10:37:51 GMT -5
Ruffled feathers. Two little tan legs, splayed at odd angles. The sparrow's neck was obviously broken, in fact; the whole head of the bird was missing; only the beak remained right next to the corpse of what was once a beautiful little golden and brown bird hopping along the streets of Edoras. A pink smudge upon the feathers.
Ceolmund stood in the doorway to his home, a small groan escaping his lips, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he looked down upon the sight of grief and devastation.
He looked back upon the bird again; it's little white speckled breast. It's dusty little feathers, and the darker feather's of it's back. And… a little black marked ring around it's leg. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard; taking a quick glance down the hill towards the Healing Hall. This was one of the nestlings from above the doorway; earlier in the year. One could not always tell sparrows apart by sight but… the way that little black ring circled his leg, and extended down his toe.
“Goldwine,” Ceolmund sighed. Such a bright song he had once sung.
The other direction, did Ceolmund turn, across the street, and a few houses down though not out of sight beyond the brow of the hill. Leofdæg and Sunniva's home. His eyes narrowed, and his lips turned to frown. This was not the first gift left for him by the cats which lived in that home, though neither could Ceolmund brandish down the door in frustration; for the birds were not truly his pets, nor was it in his temperament to do so. Aside, that family had already suffered such great loss, and Ceolmund was sensitive to these things. How could he make a nuisance on the street about cats to a woman who had lost both of her sons? Surely she was lonely. Surely she missed them; her daughter missed her brothers. It was often that Ceolmund took comfort in the company of his horse, Tait, and he knew some people took to cats in the same way. Still, this was Goldwine.
He needed to bury him, before anyone else saw the sparrow's fate. Leaving the door open, Ceolmund retreated back into his small house for a handkerchief within to wrap the sparrow.
Ceolmund stood in the doorway to his home, a small groan escaping his lips, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he looked down upon the sight of grief and devastation.
He looked back upon the bird again; it's little white speckled breast. It's dusty little feathers, and the darker feather's of it's back. And… a little black marked ring around it's leg. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard; taking a quick glance down the hill towards the Healing Hall. This was one of the nestlings from above the doorway; earlier in the year. One could not always tell sparrows apart by sight but… the way that little black ring circled his leg, and extended down his toe.
“Goldwine,” Ceolmund sighed. Such a bright song he had once sung.
The other direction, did Ceolmund turn, across the street, and a few houses down though not out of sight beyond the brow of the hill. Leofdæg and Sunniva's home. His eyes narrowed, and his lips turned to frown. This was not the first gift left for him by the cats which lived in that home, though neither could Ceolmund brandish down the door in frustration; for the birds were not truly his pets, nor was it in his temperament to do so. Aside, that family had already suffered such great loss, and Ceolmund was sensitive to these things. How could he make a nuisance on the street about cats to a woman who had lost both of her sons? Surely she was lonely. Surely she missed them; her daughter missed her brothers. It was often that Ceolmund took comfort in the company of his horse, Tait, and he knew some people took to cats in the same way. Still, this was Goldwine.
He needed to bury him, before anyone else saw the sparrow's fate. Leaving the door open, Ceolmund retreated back into his small house for a handkerchief within to wrap the sparrow.