milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It seems that this Cubefall, to change one's gender is a truly popular choice.

At least it seems so to Teja, who is currently female as well, leaning on the bar not quite realising what a figure she cuts, in a corset, tight trousers, and high-cut boots.

The tall blonde with the somewhat dangerous smirk who is leaning by the fireplace sipping prosecco on ice is no more a woman usually than Teja is.

The fact that she has a certain brown-and-white spotted dog slouching by her feet might give away who that usually is.

If you know the dog.

Then, we have a young man, dark-haired and pale, sitting by the fireplace with a mug of tea, and looking at people with a calm ease and intentional cheerfulness that may be familiar as well.

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With a flurry of wings, a tiny splash of colors darts up to the lip of a vase on the fireplace mantle. The view is much better from here.

The bright sound of the bird's approval, "Tiu tiu tiu tiu!" may be enough to distract the nearby blonde from her prosecco.

"I wonder who you are..." the blonde says, extending an elegant long finger.

The bird chitters, high-pitched, and flies down swiftly to hover in front of the blonde. The Sunshine-bird suspects, with Franz being in proximity, that this is Urquhart, also taking part in the Cubefall festivities. She owes him an apology.

The hovering bird, truly tiny, soon perches on the extended finger, cocking its head to the side as it looks up at the assassin.

Said assassin, currently female, smiles at the bird and gingerly touches the soft, shiny feathers on its back.

Franz just looks up at the bird, but makes no overture, agressive or otherwise, towards it.

"Any idea who that might be, Franz?" the blonde says.

The bird tiu!s to itself and looks this way and that, curved beak occasionally showing the nectar-drinker's long tongue. How can she show Urquhart who she is? Hrmmm.

Maybe Bar can help!

A quick flight results in the tiny bird hopping upon the countertop, trying to find if there's something that the bird can carry that would show who it is.

No, a cinnamon roll is far too heavy.

Flour-dusting isn't exactly a good look with these colors.

Ahah!

The Sunbird soon darts back to Urquhart's hand, a golden-yellow piece of metallic confetti, shaped like a stylized sun, clutched in its beak.

"A sunburst..." the blonde says.

Beat.

"Sunshine?"

Franz barks excitedly -- he likes Sunshine!

The bird lifts its wings momentarily, trilling. Yes, that's her!

"Amazing plumage!" Urquhart says.

See her preen, chittering smugly.

Everything is a lot... simpler, as a bird. More straightforward. Cubefall transformations can't replicate the action-reaction, point-where-sensation-and-instinct-meet type feeling that came with the blood memories of her doe, but the unmitigated feeling of freedom that comes with flight is doing wonders for her spirits, nonetheless.

Urquhart gently strokes the wing, oddly relieved that Sunshine is well again, and seems to have forgiven him.

"Tiu tiu!" sings the sunbird, hopping forward a bit to catch a few strands of Urquhart's long hair in her beak, and tug, lightly. Urquhart may have changed the furniture, but the drapes are still the same.

"Hey!" Urquhart laughs, but she doesn't pull away.

"You want to line your nest with that?"

There's a lot of chittering in response (seriously, so much of the tiny bird's language sounds like it should translate as curses - though who's to say if it does?) and possibly a harder tug. She has no nest to line, silly!

But then... why had she been tugging at it? >___> Why had she been tugging at it?

"I never had my hair ripped out by a bird before," Urquhart muses, quietly.

She doesn't mind, it seems.

The bird preens self-consciously, chirruping quietly. She hadn't meant to tug the hair out, just tug at it. In general. It seemed to be the thing to do. Maybe there's something to the idea of morphic memory, after all.

"You're all bright and chirpy, anyway," Urquhart says, "so I don't mind a bit of hair. At least you're not dyeing it blue."

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