Bird's Eye
Experiment into short, complex multi-character driven narrative. Like, Favourite, Subscribe, Love me.
"What'cha doing?" the young fox asked, peeking his nose over the top of the monitor screen.
The older crow smiled, though only a little, masking a small degree of irritation with the love he felt for the fox. He didn't have to fake it. "Just a story."
"What kind of story, huh?" the Fox asked, pulling up a chair and settling close to the Crow.
"Oh, this and that." the Crow responded, nodding his beak, flexing finger-tips which brushed across the keys like a feather duster (which, to a certain extent, they were - his fingers being entirely covered in jet black feathers) "You know how it is. You just kinda... start writing and fall in love."
The Fox nodded emphatically. Then paused for a moment and shook his head. "Writing is so weird."
The Crow smiled, wrapping a wing around the Fox and kissing him gently on the side of a cheek with his muzzle. "You should try it sometimes. I've made whole worlds through these keystrokes. I've watched mountains take shape before my fingers, oceans flood lands before becoming dry and barren wastelands, and children grow and have families of their own..."
"Wow," the Fox murmured, cuddling against the warm, soft feathers of the Crow.
"And as The tempest of the soul is tempered by calm sea / My passion for all things comes calm to me with thee," the Crow said, melodramatically crooning the last few words.
"You two really ought to give it a rest," came a tired, woman's voice from the stairs. Her name was Margaret, or Madge for short, and as she entered the room she shook her bushy squirrel-tail around the cramped kitchen-come-dining area.
"Just because you cannot appreciate fine culture, Madge," replied the Crow with a self-righteous snort. "A fur without a sense of culture may as well be feral,"
"Oh yeah?" Margaret replied. "Well excuse me for giving more of a damn about paying my rent than your sentences."
Margaret had not lived with the Crow and Fox for long, but knew well enough that the chiding insults of Crow were not meant maliciously. Despite this she could still not help herself from rising to the bait. She too was an intellectual, but though she had read Shakespeare and Wordsworth and a lot of what was between and surrounding she could not stand the theatrical usage of language the Crow typically employed. She preferred the reliable fields of mathematics and home repair.
"Just so you're aware, if you're using the archaic 'thee' you should also be defining whose soul, I.E. 'thine' or 'mine', otherwise you're just overgeneralising and being over-dramatic and that's just silly," she said, with some air of superiority.
"What would a squirrel like you know about poetry?" The Crow scoffed.
"Enough to know I'm right and you're wrong and there's nothing you can do about it. Coffee?" Madge replied, smoothly.
"Yes please! Freddy would like some too!" the Fox said before the Crow could open his clacking beak once more. Instead, the Crow winced. He hated being referred to as "Freddy".
"It's Frederique," he said, through clenched beak. It was one thing to be outwitted by the squirrel and quite another to have his own boyfriend betray his authority in such a manner, although he would admit it was that very naive over-stepping which was one of the things he found most adorable about the animal.
"You didn't seem to mind when he was moaning 'Fred' all last night, Freddy," the Squirrel said, motioning towards the Fox "or was he breathlessly referring to another?"
Both the Crow and the Fox went scarlet, lowering their beak and muzzle almost in unison.
"Oh don't be so embarrassed. I knew what I was in for when I agreed to live with you guys. Two cute furs such as yourselves, all alone in a house together?" she winked at Freddy, making his cheeks flush both from embarrassment and outrage at being so at a loss of how to respond. "I just hope you don't mind if I bring strange men home at night some time. If you could help from hitting on them too that'd be great."
"Never!" said the Fox, folding his arms and pointing his muzzle upwards. "I would never betray Fred-er, Frederiquey!"
The Crow sighed, face-palming into his feathery hand. Frederiquey, whilst closer, was hardly an improvement on Fred.
"Well, unless Freddy wanted to introduce someone, I guess" the Fox continued, "but I don't think that's very likely and I'd still have to talk it over with my dear Freddy first and whilst I'd probably prefer not to it's so hard to refuse and-oh-dear-he's-looking-at-me-like-that-again-so..." the Fox trailed off.
The Crow continued scowling at his lover in silence for what felt like an unbearably long time to the Fox, before Madge interjected with a boiling kettle and cups of coffee, of which they both accepted gladly, the Fox eager for distraction from the accusing stare of the Crow and the Crow glad of an excuse to stop trying so hard to maintain his sullen demenour, resisting the urge to smile and laugh.
"At any rate, thanks again for agreeing to let me stay," Margaret said, smiling in the broad way that only small animals which have evolved to fit large nuts in their mouths can, "I'm sure we'll get on just fine. I'll leave you to your writing now."
And with that she was gone. The Fox turned to the Crow. "I'm sorry, Fred."
"It's fine, my love," the Crow sighed, folding a wing around the Fox and hugging him close. He didn't really mind - not deep down. He just always felt like he had to put on an appearance. All the world's a stage, he reflected idly to himself, wondering what people would think of him, sat here at the cosy table with a laptop in front of him. What would they say?
He knew what the Fox would say, at least. "I love you," he said, cheek pressed against feathers.
"I love you too," replied the Crow, squeezing the Fox fondly before returning his eyes to the unfinished page.
Okay then, Freddy, he thought to himself, What are you going to create today?