takes a seat around the fire and spreads his wings out behind him. The wind ruffles his feathers something fierce, but he dares not complain. After speaking with one of the centaurs, who are winding and assembling a series of charms, he gathers up some raw materials--twine, beads, bone, feathers--and lays them out in front of @Breandryn
Breandryn's eyebrows raise in interest as threads of blue and green quest through her hair. Her fingers tentatively trace along the twine, a soft reverence in the movement, before shifting to feel the bone and follow the feather's contours. "Where are they from?" she asks of the materials.
Everiine sets out two "stations", one for Breandryn and one for him, with everything needed to put together a charm. "They are gathered by hunters and herbalists in their travels. Some of them are just random bits of whatever is lying around. Others are gathered intentionally, reverently, with meaning." The trill picks up a length of twine and ties the end in a knot, beckoning for her to do the same.
Breandryn spools out some twine for herself, watching Everiine's movements and emulating them deftly - while her dancing may be clumsy, something about this speaks to her, the knotwork and weaving small-scale echoes of the traps he once saw her set.
Everiine's hand hovers over the beads and bones, passing back and forth. He closes his eyes and reaches for a particular bead, but changes his mind and instead grabs another, a large, round, blue one that glows with the same brightness of his feathers. This bead he slips over the twine, sending it all the way down to the bottom. "You may use whatever beads or bones you like. Use what speaks to you," he says, reaching for another.
Breandryn scoots closer, shifting onto her knees to properly peer at the selection. She sifts through the bones and beads, fingers finally settling on a mottled verdant one, shades layered like the green-lit shadows of the forest's afternoon. She smiles, looking up at Everiine, and then quickly finds a match, this one in fiery reds and yellows as bright and bold as Gaudiguch.
No rhyme or reason seems to influence Everiine's choices. Sometimes, he makes a confident choice, choosing a bead or bone and stringing it without incident. Other times, he agonizes over the decision, picking up a bead and putting it back, stringing a bone and frowning, immediately removing it.
Breandryn peeks at Everiine's progress as she goes, biting back giggles each time he changes his mind. She continues onwards with her pattern, forest and fire interchanged in simple succession: a pastel bead painted with a flower sits beside a flesh-toned wooden one, and then she gasps, eyes widening as she finds her next piece. "Greypaw..." she murmurs, fishing a single claw out of the pile. With a slight sniffle, she begins to work the twine over and under and around the claw, turning it into a centerpiece, balanced by beads on either side.
Many colours, shapes, and patterns decorate Everiine's new charm, and if the pattern wasn't apparent when he was picking the beads, it's no more apparent now. The only recurring theme is feathers; most of his charms have them woven in, and this is no different. Three, four, sometimes five small feathers are twined together in bunches strewn up the cord's length.
Breandryn sits back on her heels, watching Everiine work for a moment before drawing inspiration from his own talisman. With a soft gasp, her eyebrows raise and her fingers fumble with her hair, teasing out a curious silk-like feather woven into the locks. Shyly, she untwists it, blushing as she explains, "...Xypher gave me this, from his wings, to show that I was his friend." She begins to pull this into her own piece, threading it through the beads to sprout out one side, framing the claw in a soft tickle.
Breandryn frowns, studying the talisman, and toys with the feather. The balance is off, the symmetry heavily skewed to one side.
Everiine nods in approval, seeing nothing wrong with the placement of the feather or the possible lack of symmetry. When he glances down at his charm, he almost looks surprised--the twine is full, with no more room for beads or trinkets. "I... it appears mine is finished," he says.
Breandryn chews on her lip in thought, still unsatisfied with her own. Her gaze shifts to Everiine's, before following the hands it is held by back to his wings. Her eyebrows raise and her lips part to speak, and then she blushes, head bobbing downwards to stare at her feet. In a very soft mumble, she asks, "Do...do you ever do the same? As Xypher did? For...people you consider special?"
Smiling and fingering a feather in his head crest, Everiine asks Breandryn, "Little one, would you like a feather?"
Breandryn's blush deepens as she nods slightly. She looks up at Everiine, quickly, quietly insisting, "Not if it will hurt you or if...if you do not want to give one..."
Everiine rips one of the smaller feathers out of his head without a second thought. Well, maybe once the sting sets in he thinks about it, but he quickly dismisses his wince as he holds it out to Breandryn.
Breandryn's expression lights up, eyes bright, smile beaming, hair glowing a happy golden gleam as she proudly clutches the feather in her hand like some prize wrested from a dragon's lair. With her other hand, she snuggles in close, whispering, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," before she finally manages to calm herself enough to thread the feather onto the talisman, opposite the silky one donated by Xypher. The balance - just fine before - is perfect now, the featherlight addition circling the claw to meet the other in a full, unbroken embrace of soft quills.
Seeing her so happy pleases the old bird, and he holds his own charm up for one last inspection. Finding it to his satisfaction, Everiine ties it into his head crest, one of many similar charms danging from his feathers, all clanking together like wind chimes whenever he turns his head.
Breandryn ties her own around her neck, tongue lolling out in concentration as she fumbles sightlessly with the knot, but within a few moments it's secure and sitting on her chest, child-like and feral against her silky gown and crude beside her glittering gemstone jewelry - but her touch lingers on it, tender and thoughtful and cherishing, as she quietly murmurs, "Magical." Her voice is light, soaring, emotion and imagination bursting through that single word to bloom bright in the air, a butterfly formed of nothing but potentials and rainbows suddenly blossoming into reality for two glorious, glittering flaps of its wings. Her eyes close, reality returns, and she is merely smiling and happy and his daughter, curious and odd and eager to help.
Everiine makes sure to thank the centaurs in the scoop for lending him some supplies, and puts his fist to his chest in a simple salute. With a mighty groan, he pulls himself to his feet and attempts to fold his wings. Though no longer wet, the feathers have all stuck together in one big mess, and the tired trill groans. It's not something he can deal with now, so he forces his wings closed, even though every urge of his heritage compels him to drop everything and preen them. "This old bird needs to rest, I think," he says, rubbing his knees.
Breandryn nods slowly, eyes wide, expression solemn. "Mother should help you," she murmurs, nodding towards the wings. "I help Xypher, sometimes, when he has been in the desert. The winds there tangle everything."
Everiine says to Breandryn, "She has helped me in the past. But in our short time together, I prefer not to ask her to work."
Breandryn smiles brightly, shaking her head. "It is not work to touch one you love," she insists. "It is not work to see them made comfortable and happy. It is a delight." She rises on her tip-toes, trying once more to stretch up high enough to give Everiine a peck on the cheek. She is too short, and tugs at his sleeve, trying to get his attention.
Everiine leans forward, placing his hands on his knees for support and balance, just far enough to let Breandryn give him a kiss before he has a chance to fall over. Standing, he stretches his wings out behind him out of habit, only to realize what he's done and grumble to himself as he forces them closed again. "I am glad we got to spend this time together," he says, pulling her into a hug--with his arms, not his wings.
Breandryn giggles and nods, snuggling close in farewell. "Do not try to fly, father," she whispers, laughter fading into a stern, serious warning. "Or all the rest of the Basin will be gifted feathers as well." Her lips twitch, a slight smile tugging at her mouth, and she twirls away, calling out a happy, "Goodbye until our next hello!"