Another cog in the murder machine

The lion isn't sacred when not sleeping near the lamb Frost was a bad season for soaring. Korri was accustomed to the emptiness of cold air under his wings, but it still frustrated him. Fewer rising thermals to push him easily skyward, more winds threatening to toss him this way and that, needles of cold biting into the skin beneath his feathers. He flew bedecked in his fullest cold-weather coat, the double layers protecting him from the worst of the cold, but up in the air he still felt it — a constant distraction. He could not afford to be distracted. Today, despite the cold, the white cloaking the trees and the plumes of his breath wreathing his muzzle, Korri returned to the Portal. He hadn't been instructed to do so; he had received little in the way of instruction from the crowns of Halyven thus far. But he thought he could probably make this trip into something potentially useful to the herd, and — well, this was the closest he could get to the place he'd last seen Auga. His raven's absence remained a vicious hole in his heart. A wound. He was no longer complete. So, he was not looking for anyone as he flew overhead. He would say he was if anyone important asked him, but truly he scanned the sky, the trees, the swirling mist for any sign of those familiar black wings. His ears strained for the hoarse croak of her voice. His thoughts swarmed in search of her, reaching and reaching — Where the fuck are you? He was not looking for anyone, but someone was all he found. Strange, from the sky: something like a faint light. Korri had seen similar markings on the Rift's citizens before, but never in such abundance. His curiosity pulled him around in a loop and he descended, his wings tilting and folding automatically. He dipped below the canopy some ways away from the sight, forced into the distance by the tight weave of the Portal's boughs, but his landing today was much more graceful than the one he'd made on his last visit. Tucking his wings, shuffling them a bit with anticipation, he trotted quickly in the direction of the light. It wasn't so very far — he glimpsed the source after a few moments of searching. And then he slowed. Ears up, expression wary and attentive, but friendly. Curious. The stranger was, of course, quite a bit larger than he (wasn't everyone?) and they were, indeed, glowing. It lent them a sort of ethereal look, and Korri found himself wondering if it was a mere aesthetic choice or an indication of something more. He paused a polite distance away, his head tilted just slightly in overt curiosity, and made a little nod. "Hello!" he called, cheer injected automatically into his voice. From his initial assessment of the stranger, he made a single assumption: she was new, or at least lost. The way she peered around at the trees, the way the mists clung to her form.... As if the Rift assessed her even now. It was unnerving, the amount of personality in this place, especially the Portal, but Korri found it more fascinating than frightening. He would, of course, be even more fascinated if he weren't distracted by the absence of his bird.... But he couldn't concentrate too hard on that. He had company. "I suspect you're a bit lost; am I right? I can help you, if you'd like. My name is Korri. I am a messenger from the Kingdom of Halyven." Unnerving, almost, how right that sounded. I belong to Halyven, as if he was only someone so long as he had the title, the tag, the mention of belonging attached. He could analyze that particular anomaly later, though. As it was, he stood awaiting a response, hoping for something positive. It is evil when it eats unless it's feeding from the damned.

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