(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

sorcerers were not in the habit of making friends, and washington had done better with charism and intimidation to be a leader rather than some social king. and as sa result it was difficult to imagine the best place to go when one was trapped as a raven. he had hardly been much to look at to begin with and was now sufficinetly less imporessive: all the old scars marks on this frail-boned body, ragged feathers and a nip taken out of his beak and in some cases without any sort of luster at all. for a few days he had subsisted moderately fine in the forest - he knew worms, ate nuts. but it was a not a long-term solution. what he needed was an ally, and few of his old ones might suffice.

then as fate had it, he came across another sorcerer. they wer euncommon in this part of the world, which favored wizards and essays and boredom and stuffy rooms. not for him. he needed nature and spirit and the fire of his soul and had not opened a book since he had realized this was, without a doubt, the path. the sorceror had bbooks that he’d dropped with deep disrespect, and then immediately gotten to trying to set himself on fire. it was the saddest sorcery he’d seen in a long time but it was sorcery none the less, and certainly the mand had effort and deterimination, and really those were the most improtant things.

then the sorcerer noticed him and said ,“ah, hello, you veteran thing.”

veteran, from all his disfigurements. he could do nothing because he couldn’t laugh. but the man was cheerful, and certainly he meant well, and washington knew better than to deny a crust of bread, when it could be so difficult to not have food in this body. the man was wearing a ridiculosu shoulderguard for only show. perfect for perching, and the man laughed. “i have made a new friend,” he said, and gave washington a pat no real raven would have stood for, “well, you are welcome to come home with me.”