Neopronouns: they/them/their/themselves (or themself or theirself)
"They are going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as they get a fence set up around their yard so the puppy can go outside without them having to walk it. Their uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting them use, since they lost theirs. They're going to buy toys and train the puppy themselves.”
Mattil stared hard at the picture before them, struggling to pick out any identifiable features on the small, grainy photo.
But it was no use - - no amount of staring would make the picture quality any better, or make the person in the photo any more recognizable.
They finally had to give up, and lowered the picture away from their face. “I'm sorry,” Mattil said, “I can't tell.”
They could explain, “It could be him, but it could also be literally any other felin with grey wings and a blue crest, assuming he hadn't changed his presentation in the five years he'd been missing” but that didn't seem worth stating explicitly. Blue wings and a grey crest was the most popular combination for felin. There was no way to tell for sure if it was Jerris from just this single, (frankly crappy) photo taken from far away from the back. And they didn't feel like getting their hopes up for no reason.
You couldn't even see either of the felin's arms or even the shoulders, so there was no way to tell if they had both hands, or had a prosthetic.
It was actually starting to make Mattil mad, actually, the fact that such a terrible picture was what they'd been called all the way over here for.
Like, what, didn't they have any decent cameras over in Seorei? What was the point of a security camera if you couldn't actually see anything in it or recognize anyone?
The agent in charge, whose names Mattil had forgotten, shuffled xir yellow and brown wings with impatience, and sighed loudly.
Well, that was just rude. It's not like xi'd had to travel all the way to this stupid building just to be asked to stare at a grainy picture that could be literally anybody. Xi worked here. Xi as probably getting paid a lot to be annoyed. Mattil wasn't. They probably wouldn't even get any compensation for traveling here.
And why was the BAA even getting their hopes up like this? Jerris had disappeared five years ago. When the BAA had called Mattil, they'd made it sound like they'd actually found him, that he was alive.
But no, Mattil had to come all this way, in the cold, and for nothing! A stupid, crappy photograph that could be anyone, with nothing in particular to point to it being him except...
Except what? Mattil didn't even know! They'd just walked in, and the agent had handed them the photo, and asked if it was Jarris.
“Gu Mattil- -” The agent started to say, but Mattil cut xim off.
“It's /Som/ Mattil.” They corrected sharply, more sharply than they normally would, but this was more than a little absurd. “I'm an ancer.” For emphasis, they gestured to their clothes and makeup - - black and bright green and blue, with yellow highlights.
It was cold out, and barely warmer in the building than it was outside (the only difference was that there was no windchill, which at least was a positive) so they were wearing their long thick winter pants, waterproof boots, their winter coat, heavy gloves, their hat, and their hood.
Their partially extended wings had sleeves of their own, with green and blue tassels on the closed ends. All of their clothes were covered in repeating diamond formations of black, blue, green, and yellow.
It was the most brazen display of ancerity they could pull off without feathers of their own, and for this agent to just ignore that and instead speak to them like they were a child...
That was infuriating. What kid went around this brightly dressed?
The agent looked them up and down, xir eyes resting for a moment on their wings. Then xi met their gaze again, and said, not even bothering to hide the patronization dripping from xir voice, “Of course you are.”
Mattil saw red, and had to resist the urge to launch themselves across the table and spend the rest of their life in prison for assaulting an agent of the BAA.
Instead they shoved themselves out of their chair, and slammed the crappy picture they still held onto the table. “I'm going home now, if you don't have any more grainy pictures to shove in my face.” They said sarcastically.
They didn't wait for a response, they just turned and headed towards the door.
The agent only spoke when Mattil's hand was already pulled the door open, calling out shortly, “We'll call you in again if we have any further questions.”
Trying to get the last word in, and make it seem like them leaving was xir choice. Pathetic.
“Get a better krakking camera next time.” Mattil threw scornfully over their shoulder in response.
They stormed out into the short hallway, then out the door and into the wind-chilled cold.
Now they had to get all the way home without freezing to death, and for no good fucking reason, either.
Jerris had disappeared just a mile outside the city while flying over the forest. Why in all the levels of hell would he suddenly reappear on the other side of the world?
And why the hell was the BAA so interested in a missing-presumed-dead naturalist?
The more Mattil thought about it, on that long, arduous hike home, the more uneasy they became at the possibilities their mind was conjuring up to explain the connections.
Was Jerris really alive? Had he really disappeared at all? Why was the BAA so interested in him?
Just what, if anything, had their brother been up to before he disappeared to attract this kind of attention?
Had his disappearance really been an accident?