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[A paw presses over their heart, short talons tickled by their feathers, just as gently placed as any touch Rue would offer.

Maybe Casey understands being an owlbear even better than they do.]

I - [It's true. The turtle, the kraken, the cats down at the cat cafe - Speaking to them was just like speaking to anyone else. Why wouldn't they assume an owlbear would be exact same? Why does that realization feel like a punch to the gut?]

I don't know why I never thought of it before. I feel foolish. It must have been easier to deal with that loss thinking otherwise, believing she was only a beast. [Their own paw, massive in comparison, rests over Casey's.] I have worried briefly of what would become of me if the magic that changed me left, if I returned to what I was before.

[At the very least, he has truly learned from the best, even if this is technically their first lesson. More than an owlbear, he is their son, to the core.

His eyes widen at that admission, gently resting his chin over their joined hands. Could that even happen? Could that magic be stolen away, leaving Rue as they would have been if raised by wild owlbears... its so strange and terrifying to imagine. No wonder they worry. How much of them would remain? It's an unfair thing that could be taken away, after all they've done to become and accept who they are today.

His beak nibbles gently at the feathers of their paw beneath him.]

Still know us. Still family. Would help you come home again.

[Rue is Rue, no matter the form. If their intelligence and sentience was stolen from them, the whole family would sweep in and do everything in their power to bring their mother back. But mother they would remain, even so.]

[They can't help but think of their own admission just some weeks earlier.

I would rather be dead.

But Casey promises they would all bring Rue home and fight for them, do whatever they could to bring them back, and the promise is a mix of sweetly heartwarming and utterly terrifying. The very idea that they may hurt one of their own sons while feral would absolutely devastate them.

- But maybe they would recognize their smell as their own children, maybe the magic of the vows they've made would persist still, even after the rest of it had fled from Rue completely.

Without warning, Rue huffs out a sigh and shakes their big, feathery head, ruffling up their usually neat feathers. And they they lean in to nibble a preening kiss into Casey's heart-shaped feathers, tender and familiar and adoring.]

I believe you. But ultimately, it has not happened yet, so certainly, it never will. I feared being cut off from the Fae Realm's magic might trigger such a change within myself, but it's been well over a year now and I am still perfectly myself, magic and all.

[Casey trills softly and leans into the fussing gesture, eyes closing contentedly. He's learned the appeal of preening, and he somewhat understands how Rue must have felt when he'd helped them during a moult. (Gosh. Would he do that now too? Is he going to feel itchy in his skin one day and need to have Rue free his feathers? What an interesting day that would be.)]

Mom is mom. Glad you're still you. Have faith that you will stay, have faith that we will find you if anything happens. There's nothing to fear.

[His chirping tone is firm, confident; his speech is even less clumsy and stilted as a result. They don't know what the future might bring, and maybe Thirteen will do something terrible for a trial, as she has before. But this is a test he believes wholeheartedly that they could win no matter what. Just as Leo brought Raph back from the Krang, they would bring Rue back through the magic of their bonds.]

Mom is... mom.

[Simple, but surprisingly effective.

They don't know if they carry quite that same level of faith in themself - dramatic as it sounds, Rue would rather take themself out than risk their sons' lives trusting a feral owlbear - but they do have faith in Casey, so maybe they can try to seek out the comfort in his words.

Besides, stranger things have happened. Maybe the power of their bonds would really bring Rue back around.]

That's enough of that. It's unnecessarily dark for our nice afternoon together. You have nothing to fear, I'm not going anywhere. I've made it this far, surely my mind is fully my own by now.

[Their confidence is rewarded with a cheerful set of peeps, no real words attached to the sound, only joy and encouragement. He doesn't really believe it's going to happen, certainly not after this long. But he doesn't want them to have anything to worry about, either. Just in case- they've got Rue's back, no matter what.

But they are right. No need to dwell on something in excess if one way or another it will be handled.]

What now, what next? I am owlbear, teach me!

[Maybe watching him try to toddle around or talk properly will cheer them up or something.]

[For Casey, Rue would push anything aside. One more gentle shake of their head before they are untangling from their son and holding out a massive paw for him to take. When they have it, Rue slowly lets Casey toddle along at their side back to the son corner, where they've stored a set of children's blocks, in an assortment of sizes and colors.

Definitely too young a toy for any of their teen boys, but the perfect thing to work on a little paw articulation. Learning to touch and hold objects - or people - without jabbing them with his talons will take some practice, but if Rue did it, Casey will get it too.]

I thought we could work on grabbing and placing things. Owlbears can grab to an extent, but their paws aren't made for holding small objects delicately.

[Casey chirps his surprise at the blocks, but this is one of the few toys from childhood in the apocalypse that he's more familiar with. Blocks are easy to make or scavenge, after all. Anything can be a block, they don't even have to all be the right shape. He parks himself on the floor, sitting upright, and begins reaching for and pulling each block closer to himself, carefully trying to lift them one by one. He starts with both paws, trying to be careful with it, but he can see where the difficulty lies. Each clawed digit doesn't always flex individually but rather as a group effort, so it's easy to make his grip either too tight or too loose, dropping or scratching the block clumsily. He figures the set is exactly for this sort of thing, considering he's seen no babies in Folkmore and this absolutely is not a teen-appropriate toy, but he can't help trilling apologetically for the scratches.]

Is hard. See what you mean now, about flower chains. Would tear to pieces!

[He was right. This does help. Immensely.

Rue settles on the floor with him, picking up their own block and setting it down between them, a starting point to built together, once Casey gets mastery of picking them up first.]

You can imagine how silly I must have looked! Covered in ripped up flowers petals, trying to desperately to be pretty. We'll work our way up to them. That will be your final exam.

[Casey growls out a worried protest; that sounds like one intense exam waiting for him. A block slips out of his paws, and he struggles to pick it back up again.]

Hope that one is long way off. [He finally manages to lift the block he'd been working on again, raising it up, up, up- and resting it on his head. It's one of the long triangle shapes, an absurd little owlbear hat.] Cover in shapes first. Am pretty?

[Casey!! Jones!!!

Even after the stressful fears they've just been dragged through, the sight of their son popping a building block on top of his head and asking if he's pretty just sends the owlbear. They start giggling and find they can't stop, laughing hard enough that their shoulders begin to tremble, amusement and tears shining in their big eyes.]

Oh my darling - [He's so freaking cute.]

You're the prettiest owlbear I've ever seen. And such balance!

[His beak lifts and parts, an obvious attempt at a grin. Mission success!]

Give second place. Mom is prettiest.

[He tries to offer the triangle out to them, though it slips through his claws and tumbles into the pile, blocks clattering noisily. Give him a second, he's fishing it out- okay, take two!]

[oh! Is that what they look like when they smile? it might be the most darling thing rue has ever seen.]

You flatterer. [But Rue preens under the compliment, holding out their paw to accept the block once Casey can pick it up between his talons again. They are endlessly patient, he can take his time until he has a better grasp on this movement.]

Do not be afraid to go slow or to test how picking things up with the pads of your paws feels versus balancing them with talons. For me, I try to use my paws when it is not something I can pinch directly between talons.

[He nods, obligingly slowing down a bit and experimenting between holding the blocks gently between both paws and clutching them with his claws. The more he practices, the more he understands the difference between the control in each hold. It takes a handful of tries, enough to be frustrating, and he utters no shortage of annoyed growls at the blocks each time they fall, but he doesn't give up, and eventually he's able to balance a few on top of each other.]

That took so long! Just two blocks! Going to tell everyone how amazing you are.

[How the heck does Rue do embroidery with these paws!! Incredible. He may need a thousand years for this.]

You are utterly ridiculous.

[But there's only fondness in their gaze as Rue tips in close - avoiding the balanced blocks - to nibble a few affectionate kisses into Casey's feathers, their paw then immediately smoothing them back down into place.]

You are doing incredibly already. And there is no doubt you will one day outshine even me.

[Too generous? Probably, but Rue is sticking to it.]

I think we can put a pause on the blocks until next time, that was a huge enough victory for today. What do you say we try some speaking exercises?

[Ridiculous! What nerve. He looks so proud of himself for his ridiculousness.

At their suggestion, though, he nods and uses both paws and beak to nudge the blocks together into a pile, tucking them back into the corner they'd come from so they're out of the way.]

Can practice after homework when visiting. Make Hunter laugh.

[Or get petted. Both would be a net gain.]

How speak?

[Honestly, the very idea just makes their perfect little boutique feel just how they wanted it to. A safe, shared space for their kids to hang out together and learn and grow and always laugh together. Rue doesn't even mind if their customers might be confused by the sudden juvenile owlbear playing in the back corner, it would mean everything to them.]

Thank you, dear. My darling polite cub.

[When the blocks are put away, Rue will take one of Casey's paws in their own, straightening their posture.]

Speaking is more difficult to describe. I do not know how it feels to speak as a human, but I imagine some of it must be the same. When I was learning, I remember sitting with strong shoulders, being aware of my tongue and my beak. Humans speak so much by forming the sounds with their mouths, but that's more difficult for us. You have to try and shape the words in your throat and with your jaw more than anything. It will sound very strange at first, very throaty, but in time you'll be able to soften your voice.

[His claws curl carefully in their paw, eyes lowering to watch them; he's used to his hand looking small in theirs, but the owlbear paw somehow looks both smaller (in scale) yet larger (due to longer claws than fingers). It's a curious dysphoria that he's still adjusting to. It's closer to normal than that of the pangolin, though, so it isn't too bad. He's getting used to it.

He listens carefully to the explanation, moving his jaw, tongue, and beak slightly to get a feel for each. They indeed feel quite different; the chirps come easily and naturally, but the thought of trying to make mouth sounds with them feels daunting.

Still, Rue manages it, so it's provably possible. He just has to work within the limits they describe.

He's not sure where else to start, so he experiments a bit by working his way through the alphabet to see which sounds come through easier than others. When he finds one that isn't as hard to mimic, he repeats it a few times to improve on the sound. It isn't much, and it probably sounds terrible, but it's a decent baseline for forming words.]

[It is possible and Rue knows their Casey can do it, even if it may take a little bit longer than a lesson or two.]

Just like that, my darling! Here -

[And if there was ever proof that Rue loved their son, it is this: the pair of them sitting on the floor of Rue's new shop, making loud, exaggerated vowel sounds at one another. This is a mother's love.]

[What a racket it would be for anyone who happened to come by, a load of nonsensical warking, but Casey at least seems to be having a good time, and he does show marginal improvement as the lesson carries on.

It's surprisingly tiresome, though; by the end of it, Casey is huffing and puffing through the vowels.]

Lot of effort... how long this take you?

[As long as Casey is having fun, Rue will allow themself to look a little silly, just for their lessons.]

Hm - [A thoughtful flutter of their lashes.] I do not want you to feel discouraged.

[Can owlbears pout? Have the biggest, babiest owlbear pout.]

Will even live that long? Teach to fly instead, just as likely!

You really are fae-touched! Just as dramatic as any faerie I've ever known.

[But that pout is darling and Rue can't help but lift a paw to hide their beak as they giggle at the sight of it. He's just too much.]

Not quite that long. It took me nearly a decade to fully awaken under the magic, so maybe three or four years to learn to speak? So much of that time is fuzzy for me. But I was an animal learning to think and speak for the first time, learning language and sapience all at once. You already have quite the advantage.

[Casey puffs out a breath but relents (dramatically, yes) and lifts both paws to his beak, feeling it out as he tries a few more sounds. Tongue and throat, not beak... it really is very difficult. Even with a head start, several years of this could be very daunting.]

Maybe why so hard. Pangolin can talk perfect. Owlbear change was wild. Angry. Maybe owlbear want to stay wild.

[He's not sure how much sense that made, but it's where his instincts are leading him.]

I hadn't thought of that, but it was a rather traumatic change in comparison, wasn't it?

[As much as Rue would like to forget that night, it lives on in their memory all too vividly, not just the pain and terror, but the animal sounds Casey made coming to their rescue. It had been him, but not him, both at the same time, just more beast than human.]

Casey, may I ask a question, dear?

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