ruevealing | folkmore inbox.

[He huffs the tiniest songbird breath.]

But you'd be happier if I lied better just now, right?

[Don't huff at your mother, mister!]

Of course not. [And this is quickly veering into territory rue does not want to discuss with Casey or any of their sons, but it isn't as if Rue is going to brush the teen's feelings aside.]

What good would that do anyone? Do you think I would prefer being unaware of how I'm perceived by others? Clearly, I would much rather your answer be honest based on my own projection of myself, but that is hardly true to life.

[He's huffing at the situation because it sucks!]

Then- I think you look amazing whatever way you walk! Even if it's a cute waddle. Sometimes.

[Every single parent has huffing, eye-rolling, and door slamming senses.

Why did Rue ever use the word waddle, now it is bouncing around inside of their head.]

Thank you. I am not angry with you you. Truth be told, I am not angry at all. It is fine. Everything is fine.

[Every kid deserves at least one tantrum in their life, surely.

Casey puffs up a bit, peering over the edge at them. STILL KINDA SUS, but partially mollified.]

You don't have to be angry for it to not be fine.

[To be fair, Casey deserves at least a dozen for his life.]

Perhaps not fine, but hardly worth any worry. How I perceive myself is my own concern and a little one at that.

[And more gently,]

Come back down here. You do not need to hide from me, little one.

[Hmmm. Not exactly satisfying, but he does relent, fluttering down to land on the arm of the couch beside them, sufficiently cowed.]

I'm sorry... I meant what I said, you do look amazing no matter what...

[Since he does not flutter back to land on them, Rue will give the little bird another moment or two to recover to himself, instead of reaching out to them like they'd like.]

I have never once thought your words were anything but honest. And I do look amazing, I know that.

[Rue isn't too humble to speak the words aloud. They know how charming and beautiful and striking they are, and normally that is enough, but sometimes public perception is difficult to shake off completely. Especially when you think of yourself in one way so strongly. To think that might not be the reality for everyone is a little earth shattering.]

Do not fret over my feelings, dear. I am not shaken so easily.

I'm gonna fret at least a little, especially if it's me who said the wrong thing. Your feelings matter to me.

[As long as they know they're amazing, though... he takes one tentative hop closer, then another, then returns to the spot where he'd perched before.]

[Rue joins Casey back on the couch, running a talon gently against his back once he returns to their wing, quiet for a moment while they settle together again with their son.]

It is one of the many things I admire about you.

Edited 2024-02-13 00:46 (UTC)

[His response is a series of meaningless chirps, a part of the song he'd sung to them in the garden when they'd first crossed paths, and he bunts his head affectionately against their talon. Start over?]

[That is one thing Casey never has to worry about. Rue said it before and they meant every word - they'll always forgive him, no matter what.

A returning trill of a song as Rue - very delicately - dips down to bump their head to his. They would much rather attack him with kisses, but later maybe, when he's more appropriately sized.]

Shall we find your bird?

[Okay head-bumps are less daunting than beak kisses like this. He can probably get used to that. He hops a bit in place and bounces back to Rue's paw.]

Mm, okay. Let's keep looking.

[With Casey in place at their paw, Rue is just going to be extra careful moving around so they don't jostle him too much as they pick the book back up again.

Thank goodness for all of the pictures, because after some flipping around, Rue points down at one kind in particular.]

Look at this one! The same blue head and red breast, with that green along the back. Perhaps this is you?

[He peers at the picture, tilting his head this way and that. The colours do look very beautiful and bright, but since he can only see so much of himself, it'll have to be Rue that decides.

He hops onto the book, adjusting his posture and posing as close to the bird on the page as possible, standing right next to it.]

How do I look? Are we the same?

[How adorable. Rue tips their head this way and that, as if they are doing anything but admiring their darling son, before they give a firm nod.]

I think that is the one! It's called a painted bunting.

[Casey moves aside again to look at the page properly.]

"Painted bunting"... the painted I get, but what's a bunting? Am I a headbutting bird?

[Playfully he bonks his head against their feathery paw a few times. Hmm, nope, that's probably a quick way to a headache if he was hitting anything harder than feathers.]

[There's just no world in which Rue doesn't laugh softly at that headbutt, before they are running their talon along his back again, smoothing out Casey's feathers.]

You know, I haven't a clue. It says here that their name in French means 'without equal'. Bunting, however, is a mystery to me.

['Without equal', good grief. Casey chirps out a laugh.]

That's just asking for me to get an ego... oh well, I guess some things just have names with no explanation.

[Or the science of etymology is lost on him.]

Well, I can hardly blame them! Look at you!

[Rue's helping!]

I'll have to search through the various bird documentaries I have saved on my relic. There must be some mention of buntings somewhere within at least one. Oh! And we should research to see if they are a native species of Folkmore. We could speak with them!

[He preens again. Yes, yes, look at him. He is fantastic.]

Oh, that would be cool if there were any. I've never seen a pangolin in the wild [and obviously not an owlbear] but birds are way more common.

Exactly! And now that we know what they are called, we can ask around with the natives if they know of any location we can find them. And even if we do not, it might be fun simply to bird watch and speak with them in general. Most birds I've met are quite funny.

How are they funny?

[He tilts his head curiously, bouncing his way along their wing now that they've found the species.]

[You are playing a dangerous game, Casey, because as he comes bouncing closer, Rue just wants to smooch this sweet bird silly. Instead, they settle for an affectionate head bump and nuzzle. Gently, of course.]

Casey, my love. Have I never told you before? I knew the inventor of birds.

[Oh noooo smooches, how terrible. He handles the bump and nuzzle better than the first time! It nets a cheery peep from him, instinctively.]

Inventor... of birds? That's a thing?

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