See, here’s the problem. Working for the Bounty of Light is all fine and good. Helping out those in need is a noble cause. Running out of food is definitely a setback, but a manageable one. But being a pushover is absolutely what’s gonna get Bard killed one of these days. He’d volunteered to pick up the food after the person delivering had failed to arrive, and it’s left him trudging through the streets of Cotes Ward in what must be at least ninety degree weather. He’s ditched the helmet and hat because of that, and has tied his hair up to the best of his ability. The heat makes him sluggish… he almost feels like finding his house again and taking a good nap– that is, until his name is very loudly yelled. Looking around, he doesn’t see anyone he recognizes… until he notices the man sitting on the ground, and he finally pieces together the voice and the face.
“K- Kisho? I– I should be asking you that! You’re… You’re…” He should be asking why he’s on the ground, why he’s armorless. Is he hurt? Does he need his assistance? Food can wait if he needs to help someone injured, and a friend, no less… but his eyes trail over his friend and all he can notice are feathers. Why is he… covered in feathers? No, not covered in them, but… Has he always been like that? Bard realizes his mouth has been hanging open, and he remembers to shut it. He’s already a sight to see, those feathers glistening in the sunlight, but… he catches himself in awe at his face, too. He’s striking, and certainly not in a bad way… Bard has to wonder why he’s so insistent on keeping that helmet on. He knows he personally wouldn’t mind seeing him sans armor more often.
“I– I mean. I was going to get food. Uh– I… I’ve been volunteering. Well, they’re paying me, but– Th- they ran out of food. I was going to get more. What are you doing out here? And what happened to you? Are you alright?”
No word could describe the influx of emotions battling for dominance, nor would its definition satisfy an already anxiety ridden avian. Befuddled by his brilliance (his sudden knee-jerk reaction only having now registered fully) and now trapped in a situation as fragile as a taut rope nearing its limits. Momentarily, at best, all he could do was stare. Blink. Leave his mouth open and let instincts override, short breaths and ruffling feathers offering minute reprieve from the unruly weather. It’s when the man stutters - makes mention of a mission - that the Knight draws himself out from his seemingly apathetic torpor. Readies himself to build up walls and satisfy the urge to hide.
“ ...And you’ve been going at this alone?! ” Aggression clings to harshly spoken words, accompanying a steadily souring expression forced for the sake of “self preservation”. “ Have you not been made aware of the situation we’re in? You seem rather ill prepared, dressed as you are, and whatever it is you may be thinking, for your sake, don’t. ”
Yet even still, as desperate as he tries to cling onto that ever intimidating and unapproachable facade, concern seeps through the cracks of his defenses. Antagonistic gaze only thinly veiling growing worries.
Try as he might, without those intimidating wears...
“ ...Give me a moment. I’ll accompany you - but speak nothing of this to anyone. You’re not fit for carrying anything more than a mere grape with this heat. And just so we’re very clear here, I am not doing this on your behalf, Johann. Joining you on your errand may very well lead me closer towards the cause of this mess. ”
