The Park, Tuesday Afternoon

[stringstothesoul]

Erasmus was freezing. It never got this cold in southern Mississippi. However, here he was, out of doors, hands wrapped around a peppermint mocha--tis the season, after all--having gotten a little distracted by some of Fandom's wildlife.

Specifically, as he sat on this park bench, he was trying to figure out if the flamingos were actually were-flamingos and that was why they were this far north in this insane frigid weather (it was almost forty degrees). "You know you guys can tell me if you are, right?" Maybe they didn't like necromancers. "But if you are maybe you should go somewhere heated? Are feathers warm enough for this weather?"

(Open post is open, and brought to you by a short story in Erasmus's universe casually including a were-flamingo like that's a normal thing to have in your urban fantasy universe or something.)

Comments

[afraid_of_marshmallows]

"Hey, Erasmus." Arden said, bundled up and wandering over with a to-go mug of tea (because coffee was the devil). "Are these guys bothering you?"

She gave the flamingos dirty looks. "They're bullies. Yeah, I said it."

[stringstothesoul]

Hot...tea? You might be weird, Arden. No judgment! But hot tea?

"Hi, Arden," he greeted her with a smile. "I'm just trying to figure out if these guys are were-flamingos," he said, like that was a normal thing to say or something. "I think probably not? They would be in their nice warm houses if they were, right?"

[afraid_of_marshmallows]

Sorry, Erasmus, had you missed how it was freezing out? Arden was her own personal HVAC and even she realized it was freezing out.

"Were...flamingoes?" she asked him. Wait, Erasmus, your narrative was giving her shit and yet you were like, 'are these were-flamingoes'? "You mean like...shifter?...flamingoes?"

[stringstothesoul]

That was why he had coffee.

"Yes?" he asked, confused. "Do you not have bird shifters where you're from?" He made this sound like there was not a light year of difference in reasonableness between 'bird shifters' and 'were-flamingos.'

[afraid_of_marshmallows]

Wait, Erasmus was judging hot tea while drinking coffee? Ew.

"I mean, I don't know all the types of shifters we have, but I'm pretty sure most of them shift into big predators."

[stringstothesoul]

Coffee was meant to be hot. Unlike tea, which was meant to be served ice cold, in a supersaturated sugar solution.

"Werewolves and big cat shifters are the most common where I'm from, too, but there are all sorts of shifters, really." Including at least one frost pixie-Pallas cat shifter hybrid.

[afraid_of_marshmallows]

Coffee was meant to be thrown in the trash, thank you. Tea was a blessed drink, which could be drunk hot and cold, both were delicious.

"I don't really know much about Otherside stuff in my world," she admitted. "So...I guess? Were-flamingoes could be a thing? But I'm pretty sure these are just regular flamingoes. I've babysat for them. Unwillingly."

[stringstothesoul]

"Why would they need a babysitter if they're just regular birds?" Erasmus asked, confused. "Maybe they just really like staying in their flamingo form."

[afraid_of_marshmallows]

"Because sometimes they have an egg in the nest and yet they both want to wander off and do stuff," Arden said with a sigh. "So then they go and bother the nearest other thing that feels like 'family' and make them come and keep the egg warm and safe instead."

Which was, y'know. Often her.

[thatsmysword]

"Are you talkin' to the birds?" Henry called, from high atop Pebbles' back, as they'd come clomping downhill for her daily walk. "They hardly talk back!"

You monologued to your horse all the time, Henry.

[stringstothesoul]

"Well," Erasmus said. "They might." Probably not, since shifters generally were sans clothes when they shifted back to their humanoid form, and Gaia, that would be freezing, but they might! "Hi, Henry! Is this your horse? I don't think we've met yet." He would remember meeting a horse.

[thatsmysword]

"Ah, I don't think you have," Henry agreed. He patted Pebbles' neck easily. "Her name is Pebbles. She's a good one."

She was a very... well, she was a horse, and she was capable of carrying Henry's weight, and she certainly looked like a very... grey... horse.

[stringstothesoul]

Erasmus had not met enough horses--or any horses, really--to have any opinions on Pebbles besides, 'That sure is a horse' and maybe, 'Wow, horses are big, huh?' "It's nice to meet you, Pebbles," he said to her. "Is she nice?" he asked Henry. Did horses bite? He didn't know if horses bit.

[thatsmysword]

Henry chuckled. "Well, she hasn't bit me yet," he said.

Very reassuring!

[stringstothesoul]

Erasmus hesitated in the middle of reaching out a hand toward Pebbles's nose. It looked so soft, but... "Yet?" It came out kind of as a squeak.

[thatsmysword]

Henry blinked. "She's not going to bite now if she was," he said. "She's been walkin' and eatin' and everything."

[stringstothesoul]

"Oh," Erasmus said, filing away these pieces of Horse Information next to everything he already knew about horses (not much). "That's good to know. Isn't she cold?" She has fur, Erasmus.

[thatsmysword]

It wasn't as if Henry himself was exactly a Knower of Horses. He'd had Pebbles thrown in his lap for the sake of a murder investigation, and she was the first horse he'd ever had.

"Aw, kind of you to worry," Henry chuckled. "But she's built for this sort of thing." He patted her neck again. "Look at 'er. She's enjoying the fresh air, I think."