His strange, two-toed clawed feet--almost hooves--touched down with soft clicks. Black wings flared, then flexed before furling, folding loosely against his back.

He watched, staring, as Renasci went about... braiding their hair?? "What are you doing?" he blurted. He was only confused, not impatient--but given his deep insecurities, it came out demanding. Far moreso than he'd intended, and he found himself abruptly flushing a light fluorescent red. "I mean-..."

For once, V-Onyx-Two caught himself, and remembered his manners. He frowned, still blushing, and gestured with one sickle to the harpy's hair. "...What are you doing? -With your hair?" Admittedly it was almost the same damn question, but... clarified, at least. And more polite.

[quote='Renasci' pid='102783' dateline='1692564561']

The first time the question is demanded, Renasci pauses- head-crest flaring up and ears out for a moment of short alarm.

The self-correction and tone change makes the harpy blink. Ah. Okay, confusion and not a taboo. Good.

"Braiding. I cut my hair uneven, and simply tying it back against the rear of my head," They let some of the braid unravel to show the whispies sticking out, and then the upper third of their crest being pinned under the hair if held back in the normal pony-tail spot. "Does that. Uncomfortable, and likely to get pulled free in a painful way if I frill up."

Hoping that's a good enough explanation, they comb their hair into a workable handful of strands again and braid it back quickly.

"If I never cut it, my hair would be between my tail feathers and that would be very inconvenient. I could show you, later. It's good for making rope as well."

One last tug to the tie, and a pat to make sure the braid is flush against their head, and they churr in delight. They seem ready now, and flick their gemstone blade from their bag with one hand, wings moving to nudge the woven netting aside and bring the bracer to their open hand with casual ease.


"When I speak"
When I think

@V-Onyx-Two

Oh.
This was it, then-?

He'd been so busy trying to follow the whole hair-braiding thing (and about to ask what 'frill up' meant, though given the context he figured it was something... bird-related, to do with feathers?) that he'd forgotten the very reason they had come here.

Nervousness caught in his throat, and he forced himself to stand taller, tightening his fingers around the hafts of his sickles. One still floated with a single wisp (whatever good that could possibly do) and the other remained magically dead, but Onyx-Two--who'd had hardly any practice even swinging them around--held onto them like a lifeline.

"Are you ready to begin?" he managed at last, and though his voice didn't crack or break, the ringing confidence he'd wanted (as if to say that HE, of course, was CERTAINLY ready) was slightly lacking.