- Apr 18, 2023
- 37
- 4
- 8
Jitterbug sprawls out on the sun-warmed rock just beyond the camp entrance, eir tail twitching as ey surveys the small pile of treasures ey's collected today. There's something satisfying about having these little things—pieces of the world that don't belong to anyone but em. Ey's laid them out in a rough semicircle around eir paws, eying each item with a mixture of satisfaction and intent, as though sorting them is more than just a simple task. To the left, a small collection of feathers catches the breeze. They flutter softly, held down by small uninteresting stones. The feathers vary in size and color: a sleek, black crow feather, a few soft dove down feathers, and the brilliant blue of a jay's wing. Ey lifts one up, letting the sun filter through the tiny filaments before laying it back down in its place. "You're staying here," ey mutters, eyes narrowing as ey nudges the crow feather with eir paw. "Not shiny enough to trade." The jay's feather is immediately added to the selection of items ey's keeping, and the downy feathers will definitely be added to eir nest later.
Eir gaze shifts to a small, jagged piece of bone next. Ey rolls it over with a sharp flick of eir paw, the hollow sound of bone hitting stone making em twitch slightly. Ey picked it up near the carrionplace, though what kind of animal it came from, ey isn't sure. It's smooth, brittle along the edges, and has a faintly unpleasant scent, but Jitterbug doesn't seem to mind. It's fascinating in its own eerie way. "This one's got character," ey muses, poking at it again before moving it toward the center of eir collection. "Should keep it." Among the bones and feathers are a few odd scraps of fur—tufts torn from unknown pelts, their origins a mystery. Some are sleek and gray, others rough and matted, and one in particular is stained a strange, muddy red. Jitterbug tilts eir head, poking the red-stained one with eir paw, the fur stiff as though it's dried into place. "Gross," ey mutters with a twitch of eir ear, though ey doesn't move it away from the pile.
Ey shifts to the rocks next, some of which ey had scavenged from the carrionplace itself, shiny with rainwater and the muck of Twoleg waste. Ey picks up a smooth one, slick and dark, almost like glass. It catches the light, shimmering faintly as Jitterbug turns it over. "Shiny," ey remarks to eirself, satisfied, before tucking it back into the pile with a careful paw. This one's a keeper. The others are interesting, but not enough to keep. They would be more use in trading to others for more interesting objects. A few dried-up beetle shells make up the rest of the collection. They're tiny and fragile, their iridescent surfaces reflecting the light just right. Jitterbug nudges them into the small pile of keepsakes, making sure they stay safe, even though ey knows they may break sooner or later. Satisfied, ey sits back, scanning eir little hoard from the day's activities. It's an odd assortment, but that's what makes it worth keeping. "Gonna have to find something new tomorrow," ey mutters, already feeling the familiar itch to go out and gather again.
Eir gaze shifts to a small, jagged piece of bone next. Ey rolls it over with a sharp flick of eir paw, the hollow sound of bone hitting stone making em twitch slightly. Ey picked it up near the carrionplace, though what kind of animal it came from, ey isn't sure. It's smooth, brittle along the edges, and has a faintly unpleasant scent, but Jitterbug doesn't seem to mind. It's fascinating in its own eerie way. "This one's got character," ey muses, poking at it again before moving it toward the center of eir collection. "Should keep it." Among the bones and feathers are a few odd scraps of fur—tufts torn from unknown pelts, their origins a mystery. Some are sleek and gray, others rough and matted, and one in particular is stained a strange, muddy red. Jitterbug tilts eir head, poking the red-stained one with eir paw, the fur stiff as though it's dried into place. "Gross," ey mutters with a twitch of eir ear, though ey doesn't move it away from the pile.
Ey shifts to the rocks next, some of which ey had scavenged from the carrionplace itself, shiny with rainwater and the muck of Twoleg waste. Ey picks up a smooth one, slick and dark, almost like glass. It catches the light, shimmering faintly as Jitterbug turns it over. "Shiny," ey remarks to eirself, satisfied, before tucking it back into the pile with a careful paw. This one's a keeper. The others are interesting, but not enough to keep. They would be more use in trading to others for more interesting objects. A few dried-up beetle shells make up the rest of the collection. They're tiny and fragile, their iridescent surfaces reflecting the light just right. Jitterbug nudges them into the small pile of keepsakes, making sure they stay safe, even though ey knows they may break sooner or later. Satisfied, ey sits back, scanning eir little hoard from the day's activities. It's an odd assortment, but that's what makes it worth keeping. "Gonna have to find something new tomorrow," ey mutters, already feeling the familiar itch to go out and gather again.
