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Brown-Green Antirr Cuicatl

Cuicatl
(listen)

Bonding to Malakai Tecke

About

Chicatl likes to tease and challenge.

He makes prodigious use of the Antirr propensity for mimickry, and although he prefers to imitate songs, he’ll copy someone’s voice dead-on if he thinks it’s fun, funny, or useful. His propensity for imitation and challenge are born largely of an enjoyment of being challenged himself; there’s very little spite or malice in him, but instead an impulse to give as he would get, to nudge others into their best and most capable selves while expecting the same to be done for him.

He’s gregarious, though not always an easy dragon to be around. He’ll make himself known in a social situation often by turning it into a competition, and/or a collaboration of skills: he very much enjoys making music with others, and not just because his kind has a propensity for doing so. He’s a wonderful composer, he has a natural ear for stirring music, and he finds the best expression of that when shared with others. He’s a dynamic, challenging personality, though it all comes from a place of playfulness or joy.

Wants

To be the best musician he can be. To challenge his limits, and other peoples; he enjoys the rush of success and revels in the lessons of failure.

Species

Antirr

Colour

Brown-Green

Gender

He/Him

Age

Fledgling

Size

Will be 10.3m long (medium)

Origin

Nidus Adanuk

Job

Tiro

Skills

Psionics

Telepathy (limited)

Verbal communication

Extensive vocal range, mimickry

Venomous Bite

Swelling, pain, paralysis, and sometimes death

Back by the bleachers, two teenage boys sat shoulder-to-shoulder, whispering to one another. One had warm, almost red-brown skin and a big grin, and the other was a deep blue-black and was clutching a tin whistle.

“Come on, Malakai, you see how it’s going out there.” The boy with the grin elbowed his friend. “They don’t even care if you show up screaming! And that horrible noise the guy with the hat made—“

“I still think you should go first, Tlonki,” the darker boy hissed back fervently. “Your aunt wanted you to make a good impression, didn’t she?” They both glanced to where the agency representatives gathered, to where Veoimath, Nidus Aven’s Prima, sat with her sister Vabanith, who was Tlonki’s mother. They looked away again quickly before the two older Wylds spotted the glance.

“Don’t be a wuss, Malakai,” Tlonki scoffed. He pushed his friend’s shoulder. “You’re being a wuss. We practiced. You’re fine!”

Malakai shot his friend a very sour look, but one more push and he was on his feet, clutching his whistle between both hands.

“I’m not a wuss,” he announced, aggrieved, though the knot in his stomach made him wonder. It felt like when he’d first been learning to climb. His feet brought him out onto the platform, towards that tight-woven rope net. His eyes flicked to the bundle of hybrid fledglings, to their strange progenitors above. It felt like the fear that happens before you really learn how to do something: it felt horrid, but also like a promise.

Tlonki was right: they had practiced, and he was good with the little instrument by now.

The metal of the whistle on his lips shot him out of his rumination and into the reality of the moment, all at once as muscle memory kicked in. He stood strong, rolled back his shoulders, and began to play the little tune he’d been practicing: short, bright, sweet, and repeating, like birdsong or a nursery rhyme. He blew his nervousness out through the whistle along with his breath.

A silence fell across the party-goers, draconic and humanoid alike, as the clear, sharp notes of the whistle rang out. Whistles, by their nature, did not have a lot of complexity, yet the way Malakai played the instrument showed practiced skill. When the ringing notes came to an end, silence crept in to fill the empty space. Distant birds twittered in the trees, and somewhere a creature called out a warning about a predator. Yet in the protected shelter of the event space, no one and nothing disturbed the peace.

That was until the very same whistle sung out through the air, this time originating from the branches high above. Looking up, Malakai spotted a deep brown antirr with jade green stripes peering at him from his lofty perch. The antirr wound around the branch, wings wrapped around the sides like safety ties.

The antirr repeated Malakai’s song note for note, and when he was done, cocked his head to the side and filled the young man’s mind with images of branches and leaves. As if to say, are you coming? To reinforce the offer, the antirr let out a series of notes that did not seem to belong together, and yet created a strange sort of melody.

The silence had had that terrible endless quality, the feeling of the world having stopped in order to examine him. As soon as he’d lowered the whistle he’d found himself frozen, the cold tight feeling in his gut too primal to even properly be called out as fear or excitement. Just buzzing, tea-kettle tension.

He jolted visibly when his song was picked up and given back to him, almost dropping his instrument. That made him clutch it tight to his chest — who knew if he’d get it back, if it rolled out into that netting and fell to the far-distant ground? — but a moment later even that fear was wiped clean by the strange sensation of telepathy. It wasn’t like it was new to him, given he lived in a Nidus full of dragons, but it was a little odd just to get images.

“Cool,” he exclaimed, not quite under his breath, and shoved his whistle under his shirt, into the little interior pocket he’d made for it. “I’m coming,” he called more loudly, and ran to the nearest of the broad branches, starting the scramble up with all the audacity of youth. The bark was odd under his fingers, crumbly and organic, and he would have had a hard time trusting it if not for the excitement of novelty, and of having a potential new friend waiting for him up there. As he clambered, he tried to whistle back the odd, uneven tune the antirr had whistled, keeping up the game of echoing and mimicry.

“Yeah!” Tlonki cheered from the sidelines, an arm pumping the air. “Go Kai!”