#mr.batsby

Once in front of Batsby, the person stayed there momentarily, questioning the choice of speaking or not.

Suddenly, a deep voice with clear scratchiness spoke, the words said as gently as possible with such vocal cords.

"Mr. Batsby...?" Aerial attempted to get their attention while trying his best to not attract unwanted attention.

“Aerial… yes?”

His head tilts slightly, ears twitching as he listens for the other’s exact position in the grass.

“What has brought you to my side of the woods, hm? It is not the safest place for someone like you, after all.”

-@pierrotsdove

“Interesting… I have never tried this before. Thank you, Miss Scarlet.”

He speaks softly, head tilting toward the scent and subtle shift of air around the offered food.

Shifting slightly on the grass, he reaches out with careful precision and gives her a gentle pat upon the head—a quiet, sincere gesture of thanks.

Scarlet ran towards Batsby’s tent, holding a sobbing Ruby and a small bag of personal items. Scarlet was covered in fresh wounds and a man was chasing her.

“Batsby! H-He found me! Help!-“ she yelped.

Michael, Scarlet’s ex boyfriend and Ruby’s father, was chasing after her, calling her obscenities and threatening her life.

“please, please, please…” she sobbed

-@pierrotsdove

“don’t worry, dearest. i’ve got you… don’t worry.”

his voice lowered into something calm but firm as he moved without hesitation.

with a careful sweep of his wings, he gathered Scarlet and Ruby into the warm fold beneath them, shielding the two smaller bodies against his chest. the chicks rustled softly, sensing the tension as they tucked closer under the shelter of his feathers.

then Batsby straightened.

his posture shifted completely.

the gentle father was still there — but now he stood like a wall between them and the threat.

a low growl rumbled from deep in his throat as his blind gaze fixed toward Michael’s direction, wings spreading slightly wider in warning.

“that is quite enough.”

his voice was no longer soft.

“you’ve frightened them already. you will not come a step closer.”

one talon tightened slightly against the ground, anchoring himself as the chicks peeped anxiously behind him.

“if you wish to speak, you may do so from where you stand.”

another quiet growl slipped out, protective and sharp.

hm… that does sound strange. so to me, it sounds like a god of the dead, since those usually live underground

he says thoughtfully, turning the idea over with quiet curiosity rather than fear

Yes… one of my sons.

Do be gentle with him, miss.

-@pierrotsdove

The fog had rolled in too quickly.

One moment the forest had been quiet — damp leaves underfoot, the faint hum of insects somewhere in the brush — and the next, the world had narrowed to a pale gray blur. Trees became silhouettes. Sound carried strangely.

Batsby stood still at the center of it, tall frame barely visible beyond a few feet. His wings were half-curled inward, not in fear — but in protection.

At his feet, three tiny shapes huddled close.

Larkspur stood upright despite the mist, chirping once, sharp and brave — too loud for his size. Briar tilted his head, watching the fog as if it might answer him. And Thistle… Thistle climbed Batsby’s leg without hesitation, tiny claws gripping fabric until she reached his forearm.

“Stay close,” he murmured, voice low, calm — though his eyes scanned the white haze carefully.

Something moved.

Not loud. Not fast.

Just… wrong.

A silhouette, perhaps. Or maybe just the fog folding in on itself.

The lantern at Batsby’s side flickered faintly, its golden light pushing back only a small circle of clarity. Beyond that, anything could be standing there.

Waiting.

A branch snapped somewhere ahead.

The chicks reacted instantly —

Batsby lifted the lantern higher.

“Show yourself,” he called into the fog — not aggressive, but firm.

The forest did not answer.

-@pierrotsdove

“Of course… I am always willing to be of help, my dear.”

He speaks gently, already moving with quiet purpose. His wings shift aside as he kneels, carefully gathering Ruby into his arms. Taloned hands—steady and practiced—adjust to support her weight without harm.

“Let us see what troubles you, little one…”