saveourearth | There are bluebirds over- Wait, those don't go here! [Mingle]

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There are bluebirds over- Wait, those don't go here! [Mingle]

Date: 11.11.2018
Characters: Open!
Note: This is intended to be a very relaxed mingle to give people a bit of a breather. It is plot-related, but a lot less dramatic than prior mingles.

On the 11th, something about Mossgate Council has changed yet again - but this time, it isn't nearly as disturbing and dangerous as back on Halloween.

Instead of cobwebs and skeletons, there are poppies. Red poppies and white poppies have flowered over night. They cover fields and lawns, the Greens and the forest ground, troop exercise areas over at the airfields, the gardens of the manor house, and even parts of the beach.

And up over the white cliffs of Mossgate, bluebirds flap their wings, flying around and sitting on the castle ruins, and if one stands still for a while and offers breadcrumbs, they'll come over and sit on that person's hand to have a snack, too.

They seem a bit confused, but not nearly as confused as the ornithology department at Mossgate University that can't save itself from interviews - no, they have no idea how that American species suddenly showed up in such numbers and why they're sticking to the cliffs specifically. Jane Astbury finally suggests with some exasperation that maybe they're just doing a music-themed tour of Europe, and could they please let her staff and students teach and study in peace?

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Walter's glances shifts quickly from the drawing to the birds, then over to Nel... and, once he's certain he's not going to misplace a stroke, he stops drawing altogether to watch the 'show'.

Some moments should be cherished.

The birds, meanwhile, take the initiative. Such adorably greedy fellows! Acting like they're not being watched, two of the smaller crowd hop all the way over, darting onto her hands just long enough to snatch up the seeds before heading back for shelter in numbers.

With her forearm braced against her leg, the coming and going of the birds doesn't make her hand wobble much even as she shrugs her shoulders and fights to hold back from laughing. That didn't take long at all! Once the two braver ones take most of the seeds from her hand, she'll toss the rest out onto the ground after where they went back to blend.

Hand rubbed of the seed dust on her pant leg, she adjusts the position of her sketchbook to return to drawing only to notice it had drawn Walter's attention. With a smile, she asks, "Do you want some seeds to give them? I have enough to share."

There is the sound of furious peeping as the birds have an impromptu seed dispute.

Walter cuts off his own snickering to answer Nel's question. "I'd be glad to, if you're willing."

He holds out a hand, using the other to keep his sketchbook close to his side.

Nel picks up the package of seeds to pour a small pile into his outstretched hand carefully so as not to waste any in the space between them where the birds won't get them until later, "I asked, silly!" Her tone is a gentle tease with that last word, and closing up the package after, she tucks the remaining contents away into her bag to watch what Walter will do with the seeds.

"So you did," he says, grin not really going anywhere once he's spoken.

He flicks the seeds out at the birds, a few at a time and in an arc, divided into equal angles...

Further scrambling ensues, though none try to land on Walter's head again.

"I'd hate to think someone's missing their pets in all of this," he voices suddenly.

Unless it really is just an oddly-migrated flock.

Observing the more precise method of distribution, Nel giggles softly at the excited state it causes in the birds within range and the way that attracts a larger number over near them. After a moment of watching, she lays her sketchbook out on her lap to return to drawing the birds.

The comment gets a glance from Nel, a soft frown appearing as she considers the notion, “I hope not... And I hope the poppies weren’t taken from anyone else trying to celebrate today.” Were something to suddenly sweep away the cats in her home, no doubt her entire family would be upset with her included.

Really, they probably shouldn't overfeed the twittering things... but then, there's no sign saying no!

"France and the Netherlands aren't calling for their flowers back, if that helps any."

Though there had been some memeposts to that effect, there hadn't been any formally filed international complaints!

"So if these are 'misplaced', they don't seem to have been stolen from anyone."

The danger of overfeeding is low with so many about at least.

Smiling freely with the reassurance there has been no call for a return of flowers with a giggle, she nods her head. It does help.

“Do you know where the birds are supposed to be living?” she inquires. Maybe Walter knows how far they are from home.

"Well, they're American, in the general sense," Walter answers, halting in the tossing of seeds for now to watch the birds dart about.

"Most birds follow the direction of warmer weather, if they don't already live at the equator. So heading this direction instead of 'South for the winter' is, well, rather contrary of them."

The wording provokes a smile out of him.

Her pencil stops at the answer of America, and with a very odd expression looks up and over to Walter. The child is somewhere between confused and concerned for the birds, but also caught by a wild curiosity of how they might have crossed the Atlantic Ocean and the country to end up down in Mossgate.

“Do you think they got lost? Will they go South before they get caught by the snow?”

His first thought response is 'It's up in the air,' but the pun-pportunity is so terrible he throws it away immediately.

"I don't think that's how birds get lost. If their sense of direction was distorted by a storm, perhaps, but even then it couldn't have blocked their sense of the whole Atlantic..."

Well, presumably.

Walter keeps one hand stretched out towards the birds, waiting.

"They should be able to survive on their own if they still head South, though I can't say they'll have an easy time going back home."

Her brow pinches together as she thinks to the matter further. At the very least, Walter thinks they will manage to get by despite being in a place foreign to them and adapt to the new environment of Europe. Nodding as her expression smoothes, she speaks, "No...I guess they won't. But how did they get here then? Can't imagine they came on a plane." A beat, then voice quieted, she wonders, "Could it be the same thing that brought all the spiders and made the poppies grow? The magic I mean."

Movement draws her gaze away from Walter to his hand as one of the birds comes closer, chirping uncertainly.

"It's certainly a possibility," Walter admits - and while he'd otherwise still try to be skeptic, he manages to sound mostly just resigned.

A part of him thinks to chirp back at the bird, but he mentally waves that off, keeping his hand steady.

"... A strong one," he adds. If it'd been a plane it would certainly have made the news for that reason.

People would panic if bees were released on a plane by accident, and they were smaller than these birds.

Suspicion given credibility, she looks out at all the birds and wistfully wishes for their well being, “I hope someone keeps an eye on them... They didn’t ask to come visit.” Well. Probably not anyways. In the meantime, she hopes they have enough food to eat, and will definitely be pouring out the seeds she has remaining in her bag before she leaves with her family.

Her attention comes back closer as the little shy bird edges closer only for another to dart in, snatch a beakful, and dart away into the crowd. The cautious bird squawks indignantly after the other, and using that, finally braves hopping up on Walter’s hand and stays put to eat more than a single seed.

"It's not as if anyone here's a bird whisperer," Walter agrees - and then pauses, wondering if in fact there is an Echo that could allow someone to communicate with animals.

Still, he doesn't have such a thing.

The lone brave bird gets its reward of seeds, and from the expression on Walter's face, the pecking tickles!

Snickering softly at the tickled expression, she comments, “Maybe, but you get on well with them.” The birds will be easier to care for if they stay so friendly.

Happy to watch the bird eating its fill from what remains in Walter’s hand, Nel will start to sketch while able to see such clear details of this bird. Not that the seeds last too long, and once gone, the bird rests for a brief pause before returning off to the flock.

Walter finds himself waving goodbye to the bird - grinning ruefully, he pulls his own sketchbook back around.

"I think we've been dismissed."

Shrugging her shoulders up as she looks up from her sketch, she has tilted little smile of expectation, "Only until I get more seeds out. They'll come right back."

For now however, she'll be glad to work on drawing the birds at a distance and spending time chatting with Walter.

Walter laughed. "I expect that they would, Nel. I expect they would..."

Deliberate self-repetition aside - well, that made this day of flower-and-bird-based therapy a success!

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There are bluebirds over- Wait, those don't go here! [Mingle]

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/insert metaphor over what the Numbered are becoming here.

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And fade out...?

That's fine!