Silas answers as casually as if Ellis has inquired about her wingspan, focused primarily on how well the crystal has gone down, the knot of it in her crop. He brings up his far thumb to feel over it, and she croaks at him, rawp -- the same froggy cry of her feline form in miniature.
“May I have it back please?”
He asks aloud for Ellis’ benefit, and Thot the finch wriggles to work it right back up out of herself, the joints of her beak bowed wide as any little serpent’s.
no subject
Silas answers as casually as if Ellis has inquired about her wingspan, focused primarily on how well the crystal has gone down, the knot of it in her crop. He brings up his far thumb to feel over it, and she croaks at him, rawp -- the same froggy cry of her feline form in miniature.
“May I have it back please?”
He asks aloud for Ellis’ benefit, and Thot the finch wriggles to work it right back up out of herself, the joints of her beak bowed wide as any little serpent’s.