Somethin's not wrong my foot. If I put a mirror in front'a you, you'd be askin' yourself why the long beak…
"Sure, I hear it. Real wonderful… I always admired folks who could strum, not so easy with these."
O.T.W nodded, eyes gleaming jovially as he shows off the talons on his fingers, like they weren't painfully obvious.
O.T.W takes an agonizing survey of Montbank, while he has the chance. The man was more soldier than freespirit. O.T.W had lived like that once. Or thought he did at least. His superior at the time most likely had something colourful to say about him instead. But point being, he couldn't stand in a line like that any more. His back never was that ramrod straight anyway.
And besides, a man can't fly through a blitz like that and come out the other side so well-off. Hitting what feels like your lowest low after meeting your highest high, was a special kind of wake-up call.
All them Orcs...
Funny how you think you can do everything right, help every person on the face of Arethil
, and then find out you can do whatever you want, but it'll happen the way it happens and there's nothing for it after that. Otto, Otto couldn't bend to that knowledge, wasn't capable of it.
Otto broke instead.
The wilds were an ease on his mind, afterwards. Playing games of chicken with the blighted lands, laying out in the treetops like he'd never have anything better to do. It's easy to forget about the good that's happening around you when all you do is avoid people, expecting their evil instead.
And then he'd met Tobi one day, next to the water. What's better to have than something to care for after seeing there wasn't anything left back the way you'd come, without sacrificing what was left of yourself. Tobi led him here, to the monastery, and wasn't it nice to be cared for as a living, breathing creature first, and a fighter second?
He downs his stout, gulping noisily, and sets the mug down with great care. He was starving now, and was heavily considering busting into the kitchen to rustle something up, but given how taught and proper Montbank still sat, he thought he'd keep a little decorum despite his stomach on the edge of yowling. He squints at the arrival of the gin, and the smell it has, and turns his head a bit. By this point, he's drawn his lax wings around his middle, the outer edges resting on his thighs in some measure of soothing.
O.T.W says, a little waffle to his tone. Waits a beat, leans back and forth on his seat like he's dodging around trees. Quirks his head pleasantly at Syr Josai and gives Faramund
a nod, before turning to speak to Montbank again. "Jus' know it's all good here. Say what you will whenever you will. I'm here."
Pops always said he was a talker. Chief Richter always said he was a little off-the-wall.
Theolonious Montbank Seluria Estel'Narqua Josai Faramund