Affectionately, Soft taps his claws against Oak's shoulders- just enough pressure to let him know he's there, but all at once light enough to be a pleasant sensation like getting scratchies between the shoulder blades.
Oak sat upon a fallen jungle log, vines and moss covering the timber. Sharpening a sugar cane with a small blade, occasionally looking up towards the shore. Everything was peaceful. However, a ticklish feeling behind startled him. Instinctively flicking his feathers up in surprise, Oak turned to the source of the sensation. A taller creature, scales of basalt, eyes of emeralds. Something vaguely familiar about them. Oak blinked, excusing his staring. “Erm… ‘ello? Sorry ‘bout all that gogglin’, but do I know ya?” Inquired the tropical ender, brows furrowing as if trying to recall who they were.
