speak and be heard

;meme status: accepting

send me your muse and i’ll tell you what bird they’d be based off of in my avian verse and why!

the speaker is a mourning dove.

mourning doves are one of the most hunted game birds in the united states, and yet manage to keep their population numbers very strong. when put into use, by either taking off or landing, the mounring dove’s wings make a whistling sound. for such a small bird, they are capable of great speeds, and can reach up to 55 miles per hour! known for only having two children, existing solely off of seeds, and for their muted, dull color, mourning doves are also known for their distinctive communication calls (which are the origin of the name, as they sound as though they are crying) and their loving tendencies with their mate, who they tend to stick with for many seasons at least.

this one is pretty obviously fitting. muted colors help mask the speaker’s identity and keep him from drawing too much attention, much like the mask and robes. his wings are small and easy to hide, although the trade-off is that they can’t carry him very far. he may be fast, but only in short bursts. he’s meant more for perching than flight, so it’s probably a good thing that he stays in the tower so much.

As arms wrap around him he is quick to copy the movements and holds the seemingly frail man close. Saint knows that the Speaker is anything but. He was a man full of great power so few had ever witnessed. 

It’s truly far too late for her to be out and about, but she doesn’t really care. The Princess is struggling to sleep, and when that happens, she wanders. Her primary caretaker––a Warlock by the name of Mara, ironically––is out of the Tower for the night, and Ronja’s sister isn’t going to stop or tell anyone if she leaves the apartment.

Upon seeing that the Speaker is, in fact, still at his post, she makes haste to leave, but the man has already caught sight of her. She curses at her own carelessness, and she’s sure she’s about to be in serious trouble with him, but… his tone of voice says otherwise.

She runs her fingers through her white hair and climbs the rest of the stairs so that he can see her properly. A sheepish smile crosses her features for a moment, and her hands fold together at the small of her back.

There’s an invisible brow raised for a moment but the face behind the mask eventually softens at her reasoning -- he faces her, a gentle movement, and he decides it would be easier to face the young princess without a blank face; the mask is taken off slowly at first, set on top of his desk, features soft though slightly tired as he looks down,

[ ‘ It is of no matter whether I am here or not---- what is it that plagues you from your sleep, little one? ’ ]

His stance relaxes slightly as he gestures for her to sit on the only chair he currently had in his study. He hadn’t interacted much with the princess, not since she arrived at the Tower with hurried explanations, but he knew that her safety and comfort would take a better priority over late night reports and Guardians seeking for vanity items and commendations.

   She had wanted a break.

   While not entirely overwhelming, not as it had been for Charlemagne, she still found actually being at the Tower and meeting those that for a couple years she could only listen to to be exhausting work. Perhaps her century of solitude dulled her ability to easily flow in and out of conversation as she could before the Collapse, but it seemed to be slow work regaining it. She felt stiff yet sensitive and already once or twice did she hide out for a few hours in the quarters given to her and returned to her Core to take a moment to herself.

   At the approach of the Speaker, she felt her head tilt slight upwards. There was a certain presence she felt she needed to maintain until she grew comfortable, but those days seemed far away.

[ ‘ It is safer than most but... it is still not safe enough. ’ ]

He trades a curious glance, grey-blue gaze quickly tracing over her features though he makes no motion to fully face her, arms at his side, mask unmoving. The de facto leader doesn’t expect much from the Warminds, her answer is understandable and he accompanies it with a very subtle tilt of the head towards her.