Post by Tiger on Feb 18, 2015 0:15:10 GMT -5
Leif was a very happy falconer.
The Raven’s Keep mews were well-known to any falconer even mildly interested in where good birds came from and what the standards of fine raptor-breeding were. Their birds were remarkable, and they had so many - beautiful crowned eagles, perfectly-marked peregrine falcons, a whole troop of well-coordinated Harris hawks, beautiful tawny owls with wise, dark eyes, a red-tailed hawk whose feathers were all white save for its namesake tail, huge behemoths of eagle-owls, swallow-tailed kites and great grays and goshawks… They said only the aviaries of Rindfell had more or finer birds.
And Leif was standing in these mews, surrounded by black and yellow and orange eyes and feathers and sharp, pointy beaks. A very immature, childish part of him wanted to throw all the cage doors open and just let the birds fly free. Fortunately, Leif was smart enough to ignore this desire - it would be dangerous for the birds, it would be dangerous for Leif, he would get into enormous trouble, and anyway, from what Leif had heard, Advisor Aines had already pulled that particular stunt in the fight against the Courdonians.
It would probably not earn Leif an invitation back, and he was already here technically without official permission. He had considered many times this past month and a half asking Aldrich - or, King Galateo, rather - if he could visit the mews, but Leif knew that was probably an abuse of his having known the king before his coronation. Granted, that had been mere days before the Courdonian invasion and the revelation of the heir to the throne, but all the same...
Today, however, Leif had been leaving a meeting in the Keep, where he had been advising on the construction of a safe system for disposing of unused potions, when he’d heard the racket of what was clearly a very angry fishing eagle. Leif had come to the mews, and sure enough, the racket was coming from a light brown, white-headed eagle perched as high and as far away as she could get from the two falconers trying to corral her and remove the netting that had tangled up around her foot. Leif had stepped in to lend a hand, and once they had gotten the eagle down and free from the netting, asked if he could stay for a while to see all the birds. The falconers had seemed fine with it; possibly they’d recognized his falconing gloves, or maybe had some idea of who Leif was and that he was a falconer as well.
The archmage hardly knew where to start - there were so many birds, how could he chose just one? It took several minutes of pacing around the enclosures before he was able to coax himself back a little from his excitement - if he didn’t just stop and pick a bird, he was going to get booted out of here without getting to hold any of them.
But which one to pick...Leif forced himself to stop and just...see about the nearest bird. It turned out to be a peregrine falcon, and seemed amenable enough to sitting on Leif’s glove - especially when he pulled a strip of meat from the pouch on his pocket. “Don’t tell my raptors I’m feeding you, all right?” he told the peregrine. “Look at this barring...and this is the bluest shade I’ve seen on a peregrine…”
The Raven’s Keep mews were well-known to any falconer even mildly interested in where good birds came from and what the standards of fine raptor-breeding were. Their birds were remarkable, and they had so many - beautiful crowned eagles, perfectly-marked peregrine falcons, a whole troop of well-coordinated Harris hawks, beautiful tawny owls with wise, dark eyes, a red-tailed hawk whose feathers were all white save for its namesake tail, huge behemoths of eagle-owls, swallow-tailed kites and great grays and goshawks… They said only the aviaries of Rindfell had more or finer birds.
And Leif was standing in these mews, surrounded by black and yellow and orange eyes and feathers and sharp, pointy beaks. A very immature, childish part of him wanted to throw all the cage doors open and just let the birds fly free. Fortunately, Leif was smart enough to ignore this desire - it would be dangerous for the birds, it would be dangerous for Leif, he would get into enormous trouble, and anyway, from what Leif had heard, Advisor Aines had already pulled that particular stunt in the fight against the Courdonians.
It would probably not earn Leif an invitation back, and he was already here technically without official permission. He had considered many times this past month and a half asking Aldrich - or, King Galateo, rather - if he could visit the mews, but Leif knew that was probably an abuse of his having known the king before his coronation. Granted, that had been mere days before the Courdonian invasion and the revelation of the heir to the throne, but all the same...
Today, however, Leif had been leaving a meeting in the Keep, where he had been advising on the construction of a safe system for disposing of unused potions, when he’d heard the racket of what was clearly a very angry fishing eagle. Leif had come to the mews, and sure enough, the racket was coming from a light brown, white-headed eagle perched as high and as far away as she could get from the two falconers trying to corral her and remove the netting that had tangled up around her foot. Leif had stepped in to lend a hand, and once they had gotten the eagle down and free from the netting, asked if he could stay for a while to see all the birds. The falconers had seemed fine with it; possibly they’d recognized his falconing gloves, or maybe had some idea of who Leif was and that he was a falconer as well.
The archmage hardly knew where to start - there were so many birds, how could he chose just one? It took several minutes of pacing around the enclosures before he was able to coax himself back a little from his excitement - if he didn’t just stop and pick a bird, he was going to get booted out of here without getting to hold any of them.
But which one to pick...Leif forced himself to stop and just...see about the nearest bird. It turned out to be a peregrine falcon, and seemed amenable enough to sitting on Leif’s glove - especially when he pulled a strip of meat from the pouch on his pocket. “Don’t tell my raptors I’m feeding you, all right?” he told the peregrine. “Look at this barring...and this is the bluest shade I’ve seen on a peregrine…”
It’s ~1-2 months post-Coronation and, uh-oh, bird-nerdmage has found his way into the Keep’s mews! Run, everyone, ruuuuun!
But will Leif be alone for long? =O Who knows! (...me and the other person RPing this. That’s who. *shot*)
But will Leif be alone for long? =O Who knows! (...me and the other person RPing this. That’s who. *shot*)
