ORIGIN

He was on the third iteration of the Dread carving. It was taking longer than he expected to get all the little details in the bigger than usual carving of his. This one looked promising, though, surrounded by the shavings of its previous attempts.

He still hadn't used the knife. Not yet- he waited for the right moment to use it, its weight against his hip a heavy reminder of what he had to do. Someday- he would not hunt unless he had to.

Pisces was a lovely place to bathe, though. He'd come more often as he grew up, desperate to keep his hair from matting so often. It'd gotten longer faster as the air grew colder, even daring to spread to his chin and growing out there.

It was an odd feeling, to say the least. He wasn't sure if he liked the beard, but it wasn't in danger of tangling up as much as his hair. But, even that he didn't want to cut; if only there was a way to keep it out of the way without risking it or himself.

Which brought him to the red strip he held in his hand. His head was soaking wet after he dunked it into the (honestly freezing) pool he knelt by, fingers running out kinks in it carefully. It took squeezing and a head shake to get out enough of the liquid for him to feel comfortable to draw his hair back. It was low, against the nape of his neck yet close to the roots, where he tied a bow like the red had been before on its pearl.

He tugged experimentally at it when he was done, watching his reflection. That'd stay, hopefully. The possible femininity of tying his hair in a ponytail was lost on him as he stood and shook out the last few drops.

Well. Hair done- he really only came by to do that. His body could be done in Eridanus, where it was much warmer. The reflections here only really helped to serve as a mirror with him cutting down the hair that'd grown on him.

He bent, then, to pick up the bag he carried so often, the spear nowhere in sight, as he made to traverse back home.

Attikias didn't notice the bird until she landed in front of him, his attention perking with his tail lifting higher. A friend?

And then she started immediately on insults. "I don't-" he started on the question of species before he was just run ragged by a total stranger.

His teeth clenched and he tilted his head, confusion and discomfort sprawled on his face. His right hand drew itself to the knife resting below it with his left latching itself onto the bag he carried. "That's not very nice." What kind of person would go up to someone just to insult them? He wasn't disgusting; he'd just cleaned himself up, too. He looked great in the ribbon, if he said so himself!

The elf's lip curled as he grabbed his knife and unsheathed it, holding it by his thigh as he watched the bird get the higher ground. "You're blind," he hissed, teeth baring and tail whipping back and forth. He had hair. He was strong. This bird- well. He knew from experience just how fragile they could be. "You've never seen anything like me, that's for sure."

His posture lowered as he sunk into a combat stance. The edge of the stone knife pointed towards the assailant with his left hand against the flat edge of it. "I didn't come here to start a fight, so don't make this into one."

He paced to the side, keeping himself moving. "But maybe you'd like to see how weak I am, huh?" He shouldn't be gloating. "See how hulking and dumb and stupid I am? Let me show you some respect, kid. Come down here and kill me if I'm so worthless."

Oh, he was in for it now. If he was in his right mind, he'd've just left, but the precise insults of his unknown species dug under his skin, and the bird was picking for a fight. The existence of his payment laid in the back of his mind only to spur his words on.

She was too far to reach without his spear, thankfully. He didn't want to start the first hit, but he was ready for anything to come at him.

Oh, he was trash then? His skin- his skin? What about the ugly, splayed out feathers behind her head, then? Maybe he could pluck one to teach her a lesson.

Why was he doing this? Why was he being so rude back? This wasn't the way to go, but-

The last words touched a trigger deep within him. And like that, she made to fly off, made to leave him like this with her head set elsewhere. Did she not even care to look his way, consider him briefly? Of course she didn't.

No. No! A growl rumbled through him as his canines were bared, adrenaline blinding him as he full-on threw the knife at her before she could take off. It struck the wall beside where she was moments before and clattered back down to the floor below, its owner huffing in disappointment as he retrieved it.

Well, that sucked. Grumbling, Attik returned the knife to its home and began to walk back to Eridanus, muttering under his breath about her the whole way.