Talon hadn’t moved from its nest in what felt like days. Ever since it had stopped healing, it has felt like its energy was being slowly drained out of it. Each day it felt more and more tired. If it had the energy left to be afraid, it would be. It felt so, so similar to dormancy, to what the cold did to it each and every time it was put under back at the court, except it wasn’t cold. The nest was pleasantly heated, but Talon felt unable to absorb it. Instead, all it could do was take note of the soft fabrics that surrounded it and sink in further.Â
 It wasn’t sure if it actually had been days, but from what it could tell, the sun had at least risen and set once. Moving just felt too much like a chore, its arms and legs far too heavy to bother trying to leave the nest at all. Even opening its eyes had become a chore, choosing to instead mark the passage of time through sound.
Its eyes cracked open once again, using a large portion of Talon’s available energy. It had heard Babs coming and going from time to time, the sound of her wheelchair moving through the apartment and the door locks indicating when she arrived and left. From what it sounded like, Talon had to assume she had just returned again.Â
The best it could do to alert her that it was awake was give a weak trill, head lifting from the nest for just a second before falling back in. The action had taken just about all Talon had left, leaving its body weak and panting (or as close to panting as Talon could get).
@robinstalons
When Babs returns home from work she sets down her things and is about to head into the kitchen to make herself some food when she hears something. She pauses, almost wondering if she just made up the sound in her head, it was so quiet.
She decides to check on Talon. It's been a while since she's seen him. Not since she helped him wrap his arm up and lay in his nest.
She wheels up quietly and knocks on the door before peeking inside. "Talon? How are you doing, buddy?"
