Nest Migration Notice

Fernwood Pub

“Took your sweet time.”

A large sigh escapes an egalrin woman of middling height. Though, middle for most folks, as she was a runt of her kin. She sinks down in her chair, beak clacking against the table first before the rest of her face falls onto it after. “Loo’, Zani, I’m really busy nowadays. And…-”

“Slix. Sis,” the other egalrin huffs. Green and white feathered, and tall, almost towering with his arms crossed. The two are in a private room at the Fernwood, the dull noise of the dinner rush thrumming below. “It’s been so long. Kalthi still needs you to look him over, and Baby Bani is still upset.”

Slixvah, normally esoterically dressed, is just in a brown robe, and all her ribbons were upon the room provided chest instead. “Zani. I am so, flippin’, busy here, man. I gots weird magic ta suss out and research, I gots two jobs, and then occasionally I gotta go out on expeditions tha-”

“Slix!” Zani slams a fist down on the table, grinding his orange beak. “The Fam is going to be at the Aerie in three days. Some of us need a healer. Why, in all of Ceiwen’s grace, are you so hesitant to help!”

The sister deflates, burying her face into her hands. “... I just don’ want th’ luck ta rub off wrong on y’all.”

A low sigh leaves Zani, his eyes softening as understanding crosses them. “... is what this is about?”

“... yeah. Jus’.. ya know, ‘fraid,” Slix murmurs, drawing idle circles on the table with a finger. “Th’ Aerie was destroyed ta a landslide. Figured all that luck I built up bein’ there finally fell under.”

The brother stares. Reaches over. And thwacks the smaller sister atop the ahead. “Fool.”

The fortunamancer flinches, sitting upright and rubbing her head. “Ok, first off, that was rude as hell, second, ‘‘’ow’’’.”

“Smart as you are, you hop to conclusions far too often,” he scowls, holding up a chastising finger. “It was not your ‘’’tiny bit of luck’’’ thing you do, it was a deliberate sabotage.”

Slix blinks. “... what.”

“Yes,” Zanzimar steeples his fingers. “Dad, myself, and the other rangers scoured the site. Magically worn away. We still do not know the culprit, but there have been reports of people getting antsy in the mountains with all the magic going sideways.”

The runt’s stymied expression cracks into a mixture of perplexion, as her previous assumptions were challenged, and firm calculation. “Right. I’m jus’ gonna… simmer on tha’ a bit, not like jus’ several years of prebuilt conceptions can get unlearned just like tha’-”

“Slix. Can ya focus? I know ya think out loud when you’re nervous. Divert tha’ ta this problem.”

“Right! Sorry, sorry.” she sighs, rubbing her face. “Magically worn away? Tha’ could be a number of suspects, ta be real. Erm, upsettti druids, a mad earth elemental, a geomancer…”

Zanzimar’s wings unfurl behind him. “Maybe…”

“Clergymen and wizards, quite a lotta people can shape stone,” Slix finishes.

He rubs the side of his beak. “That doesn’ really narrow it down, but…” he shakes his head. “It’s something we can discuss later wit’ Dad.” A sigh escapes Zanzi. “Regardless. The Fam’s comin’ in a couple of weeks. Ya can meet us at the Aerie.”

The runt of a sibling lets out a breath. “... I’ll meet y’all there,” she resigns.

Zanzi perks. “Truly?”

“Yeah.”

-End-