Patrols were commonly demanded of the flocks of Stormwings positioned at Fief Dunlath, extra security to make sure their dastardly little deeds were not discovered ahead of time. And, while answering to foolish mortals was nuisance enough, flying was not. Lord Rikash reveled in the air of the mortal realms, not overcrowded, and rife with anxiety and war-mongering as it was. Most of it came from the humans, but every so often the bickering wastes of immortality flying formation behind him got on his nerves. He was tempted to wheel back and smack them over the head with a steel wing except it was so clearly not worth his time. Below, the land of Dunlath was generally quiet beyond the chattering of its smaller, more insignificant residents. The noise of the creatures of the forest had greatly diminished since the human's wood cutting had started. Like those that brought their saws to bear, Rikash had no scruples about depriving furry rodents of their homes and he felt no particular twinges as it occurred.
There was, currently, only one voice that could give the immortal lord pause. So when he heard Maura's screams of dismay from somewhere in the fort, he instantly snapped his wings out, breaking formation and startling his companions. He tried to listen carefully but the others also slowed, barking their annoyance and making it difficult to hear anything else.
"Perhaps her bath is too hot," the dark-skinned one sniggered, "Those spineless earth-walkers are so dreadfully whiny." The female of the flock cackled her agreement. Rikash only sneered silent displeasure at them before banking to the left, towards the building.
"Look at him, dashing off like a worried hen," the cajoling followed behind him. It was Uletza still, and she flexed her claw along a companion's wing-edge, creating the squeal of metal against metal. "Come back here, Rikash, so I can gut you and see if you've become mushy inside." Outwardly, Rikash only flipped up his tail at them, but inwardly he was cursing. His strengthening relationship with the young girl was not without its faults - among those, the teasing notice of all his fellows. Could he help it? Maura was young and as stupid as her age demanded. Uletza had her own child and she constantly pretended to forget how the birth had nearly killed both of them. Nevermind that. Did they work for Dunlath, or didn't they? Not that the Stormwings usually tended to affairs inside the fort but that point didn't stand long in the immortal's mind.
The screaming, he'd worked out, had come from an upper window. As he veered to the landing he thought it might have been, he realized he was peeking into a washroom. A curtain had been set up to be pulled around the noble's bathing tub, which was currently overflowing onto the stones of the floor. The whole place smelled of perfumes and soaps - everything the Stormwing did not represent - and he actually balked a moment before forcing his wings and feet to settle.
"Maura?" Rikash craned his neck into the room as best he could with metal parts butting up against the limits of the window's size. He had no thought that the girl might be in a compromising position, considering her location; what did a Stormwing care about human nakedness. "Where is your groundpounding failure of a nurse?" Little did the Stormwing know that Yolane had gotten letters on the latest in court fashion and, apparently, the application of this high art took every available serving lady in the fort. Maura had found something to do else-while.
Now the brown-haired, freckled child appeared from around the curtain, fingers clutching at the fabric perhaps nervously. "Lord Rikash!" She gasped, properly surprised and relieved. Though these emotions quickly vanished for something suspiciously practical as she eyed his clinging predicament. "Can't you fit in the window?"
"And why would I want to?" Rikash countered. The human's employment of puppy-eyes soon made this point moot as well, and he found himself scuttling forward on the sill while trying to flatten his wings so the feathers didn't catch on any part of the architecture. He was mostly successful. On the last leap into the room proper, one silver feather broke off and clinked noisily on the floor. Wings smashed inside the opening behind him, Rikash had to land and hop forward first before he could flex his great wingspan again and find a better place to perch. This ended up being a nearby sink basin, happily attached to a much higher table - though this didn't help him from leaving behind a long scratch on the looking mirror when he was folding his wings back. Spread, they would've taken up more room than was safe, and this was at least slightly more comfortable.
"You are a lot of trouble, even when you are not in it." He informed the girl, his tainted dignity ruffled. "Which you had better be, considering the ruckus you just put on." He couldn't find a good grip on this porcelain and he kept repositioning his claws. Whoever used the sink next would likely be putout by the slick grooves beginning to appear in the basin's side.
Maura was still playing shy behind the curtain. "Not itoo/i much ruckus," she challenged sensibly, "After all, you're the only one who showed up." He was used to hearing her sound bitter about this kind of thing, but now she almost sounded proud of herself.
Rikash swung his head back and all the bones in his hair rattled together. "You are up to something."
"Nonsense," Maura responded breezily, finally walking into the rest of the room. Her appearance did nothing to ease this; though fully clothed, her hands were full with a bowl of many scented soaps, dish-towels, and several brushes - one of them brittle and meant for cleaning the stone courtyard. Rikash was fairly certain she didn't mean to use it on her own weakly skin. "I just wanted to try it once."
"Curiosity is not so endearing as your kind thinks it is." He spat off warningly, raising a chin currently caked with old blood; he smelled, as always, of all the putrid wastes of the battlefield. "Now, try what?" She didn't answer but came at him, pulling a wet cloth from the pile she was holding. He instinctively swiped at her, luckily missing. It still caused her to stumble to the side, losing her balance, and her things onto the floor. Some of the soap dribbled away, bubbling as it hit the overflow from near the tub. "Look what you did!" Maura accused, choosing to face him with hands on her hips rather than right away retrieve the items.
"Because you came at me!"
"With a towel!" Rikash did not respond but only glared at her from under several layers of soot and dirt, figuring that was answer enough. Maura battled visibly with what she should try next. She sucked in a heavy, thoughtful breath then undid her angry pose to gesture plaintively at him. "I haven't got anything else to do in this terrible, boring castle and when Tait's away with his traps, you're the only one I can ever talk to anymore. Please spend time with me."
The Stormwing's feathers ruffled. "I spend a lot of time with you, missy. Not all of it because of your lord's requirements, though likely not out of better judgment on my part."
"Then you won't fly off?" His strict expression didn't soften until Maura compromised by setting down the wet towel and brandishing a hairbrush instead. As soon as she saw the change, she had to force back a smile as she scurried forward closer to his make-shift perch. Rikash looked away as she examined him, using nonchalance to alleviate his involvement with what he considered her nonsense. The immortal's long blond hair had maybe once been more delicately braided but neglect and lifestyle had ratted the strands and tangled the braids into less distinguishable shapes. Unsure where to start, Maura brought the brush to bear near his ear. It didn't want to slip easily in-between the thick tangles, but once she got it there, she pulled. Then tugged. Hard.
Rikash whipped his head straight to look at her. The brush pulled out of Maura's hand, stuck in the hair, and went flying along with all those braids and bones. "Yowch!" He flung his head in the other direction, but the brush just went with. "You and your-- girlish--!"
She waved her hands to try and stop him, but Maura didn't dare move closer when the Stormwing might start moving his other parts. Everything silver in color was sharp as razors, and just as cold. Indeed, Rikash stretched his wings, but not to their full length, and, soon after, he had relaxed again. "Well-- come on..." he muttered. To which, Maura tiptoed forward and carefully reached back to where the hairbrush had gotten tangled. Carefully, but not too gently, she worked it back out and took out clumps of damaged blond hair in the process. In the quiet they had both created, she was even able to rebraid a portion of it that was less bunched up than the rest. It dangled there, the one braid still pristinely done. Without Rikash's knowledge - he was staring off over her head impatiently - she pulled a purple ribbon from her pocket and did up the end of the braid with it. Something to remember her by. It stuck out, surrounded by fragments of bone bleached by the sun.
After that, things went a bit more smoothly. He asked her about the rest of the day and then liberally mocked human affairs while she retrieved the thick wire brush to scrub his steel wings. They mostly had blood on them, the dirt not sticking on the smooth shiny surfaces, so she had to apply herself quite heavily to the job to see any progress. She'd fuss for a while, right up into a spot, and not care that it was hard work because he said lots of funny things to distract her - and they were always about court, making her feel better about not being part of it all. She felt lonely so much of the day, but he always made it sound like she had the best of the world.
One of those times, Maura forgot to breathe through her mouth and, sniffing deep with her nose, she began coughing steadily. She fanned a hand in front of her face rapidly before dipping to the side to fetch one of the many perfumed bottles lying about. They'd been blocking the stench thus far, but close proximity had eventually overwhelmed even their gifts. Rikash watched her as she dabbed the expensive liquid under her nose like she did when they went flying. Catching her expression, he grinned. Maura sniffed defensively - but not too deeply. "It's because you're covered in this... you know."
The Stormwing's grin faltered and his lip curled up in a partial sneer. "You think we do not know that we smell?" He questioned dryly, adjusting his poise on the less than prestigious sink bowl in order to sit more proudly. With his shoulders back and chin up, he put some height between himself and the human girl. "I am marked by how many battlefields I have roamed. This is a stench well-earned. War need not please the nostrils, neither its carrion."
"Do you enjoy being proud of fighting?" She'd found something softer to fiddle with, not wanting to knead her hands through the harsh wire, but she still used it to dab at Rikash's wings, as they hadn't moved entirely out of her reach with his adjustment.
"Do you enjoy being your sister's relation?" Rikash retorted playfully. "We can no sooner choose this as you can choose your family. It is how we exist."
"I wasn't asking about Stormwings, I was asking about you." Rikash hummed thoughtfully in respect for her distinction, but did not otherwise answer. Instead, he finally stopped fussing about his perch and leaned back in towards Maura. Taking the invitation generously, the young girl bunched the wet towel in her hand and ran it along his cheek. Most of the grit came away, but the skin gave the impression of never really being able to be truly clean. Accepting this for what it was, Maura ducked forward to give her strange guardian a modest kiss on the cheek where she'd washed it. There was the sound of many metal feathers clicking against each other.
Rikash grumbled, low and irritated. "I am a Stormwing, you foolish, affectionate child." But Maura knew better when he used that particular tone; she'd come to find that it only meant he thought he was being too allowing. It never meant he would stop. Back when the Stormwings had first shown up, she'd been much more frightened of their gruff tones and harsh manners - and some of them she still preferred not to associate with - but time and attention had proved that Rikash's tough act was just him being concerned. He would still argue with her, and sometimes he made her do things she didn't want to... but he never hurt her. And that wasn't something she could even say for her own family anymore.
So, he could grumble all he wanted. Maura only stepped away, looking quietly content, and tucked her hands behind her back. "I guess I'm due for my studies by now. Maybe the nurse will be wondering soon." She could admit, at least, that the servants weren't terrible with her, either.
"And about time," Rikash scoffed, because he was already in that temper. "Some of us have duties to perform, I do not expect you young things to understand. Now get out of here," he clucked when she hovered longer. If he was going to heave himself through that window again, he'd rather do it when no one else was getting a good look at the clumsiness of it all. Once was plenty enough. Maura rolled her eyes, as childish disobedient creatures are wont to do, but backpedaled quickly to the door and scooted her way through the next moment. "And good riddance," the Stormwing muttered to himself when he looked again at the space he had fit through just for her. "Next time I feel like indulging that child, may the Gods strike the immortality out of me so I can properly die of shame."
Not that, of course, it would ever end up working that way.