♡ / @archaictunic
The fire is a little weaker tonight, he notes. He has to huddle in close to watch the trails it traces along the curves of the bars and pot trapping it, wings wrapped around himself and feet idly twiddling with the half-entwined, now-forgotten ribbons he initially brought with him to while away the late hours.
He quietly trills some aimless tune to the flames' soft pops and crackles. It's not the first time Kido's found sleep escaping him. The village kitchen is where he's wandered to this evening, in the wake of some dream he can't recall. Only a vague impression of its nature had remained in the form of frustrated, almost desperate energy: a too-much-to-contain feeling that has yet to leave — that has him wishing somebody else could be awake, and here, and feeling too-much-to-contain with him.
Ugh. He doesn't know how or why anybody would want to be nocturnal when being nocturnal is like this. It kinda really stinks.
He's tempted to go see if it's late-turned-early enough that any aunt or uncle will be up for him to distract and be distracted by, when he catches footsteps thud-thud-thudding their way closer and closer. They're lighter than they'd usually be, without the duller tap of talons against wood; awfully familiar in a way that has him restless in a different sense, so he quickly turns to look and— yes!!
"Hi!" Kido chirps, just about jumping to his feet. It's Mr. Link! It's always so hard getting to see and approach the hero that is Mr. Link alone whenever he visits the village lately, so this is— like— the best surprise. "Good evening!"
He hurries to sit back down with a beckoning wave of his wing. Please come sit with him, he's so tired of being alone with stupid feelings and the barely-there thoughts that feed them! "You're up late! You going nocturnal?" ( Ooh, being nocturnal might just be great, actually! )