Sir, you seem to have dropped something. Who: Ziz [grypha] & Lo Wang [fifthdown] What: First meetings, hijinks for all! When: Tuesday, September 21. Where: Somewhere. Warnings: Excessive cute. Possibly brooding. Rusty syntax and ADHD characterization. Chutzpah!
There were many words that could be used to described birds; the complex, nuanced creatures that they were. The specific breed and species depending, birds could be intelligent, creative, dutiful, crafty, vain, hyperactive, curious, territorial, or any combination of descriptors.
Ziz, for the most part, was an observer. Her job was special: to protect. And to protect, she had to watch.
The details of how the Ziz managed to look after every smaller bird in existence were rather vague. Certainly, her job had become significantly harder when hawk-eyes large enough to regard miles as inches were reduced and limited; when size, and the wrath of a Ziz's sharp, crushing beak posed no more threat than a child's tale to hungry men and vindictive men alike. Ziz did what she could, in the space that she could, with the hope that other guardians were scattered around the country, picking up what she could no longer do on her lonesome. She haunted the parks throughout New York and its bright cities, carefully eyeing those who frequented the area and keeping a look out for ne'er-do-wells. During these prowls she was almost constantly moving, collecting information like a magpie would collect pretty things, surveying the folk who appreciated the birds, and more importantly, the ones that didn't.
It was late into the evening when he passed, night after night. When the shade of darkness blinded the eyes of the mortals, Ziz assumed a significantly smaller version of her true body. Her dress hung on a high branch, hidden from sight, while she loomed, her monstrous, griffin-reminiscent form sized down to about the mass of a condor. She noted the familiar stranger--tall and dark, as strangers often were--walking down the street at his usual pace.
Clink.
Ziz heard the small piece of metal hit the ground, staring attentively as the minimal light glinted off its curved surface. She blinked.
The man didn't seem to notice his lost possession, and continued to walk down the street, completely unaffected. The moment he was out of eyesight, Ziz swooped. One deft claw curled around the item as she dived down, before looping and returning to her branch to inspect the collection. It was a pocketwatch; gold, with a delicate chain and a pattern etched into the cover, then inlaid with copper. It was beautiful. Ziz carefully draped the treasure on a branch and continued her vigil.
It was days before she saw him again, as she spent her time paroling different areas of the rather large state, but see him again she did. Feathers ruffled and she hopped to full attention, tilting her head this way and that as the familiar stranger passed by. Her skirt, hanging nearby as always, held his pocketwatch in one of its sewn-on pockets.
With clumsy hurriedness, Ziz slid back into her human skin. She grabbed her garments and jumped from the tree to the ground, huffing momentarily upon impact before rushing to pull her skirt on. He was fading from her line of sight when she quickly fastened approximately half of the buttons on her vest and launched herself into a run, bare feet slapping on the pavement as her mussed hair flopped in the evening breeze.