"What's wrong with the feathers on your body? Are you sick?" Rowan squatted down, looking at Julian who was gnawing on meat, feeling genuinely a bit bored and curious.
Bird beastmen like him were usually very vain; they surely must treasure their colorful plumage to court a mate.
If his feathers were tattered like this, unable to spread his tail to dance, he wouldn't be able to find any satisfactory Omegina, and he would certainly be ridiculed by others.
Julian choked while eating; he looked up, meeting Owen's gaze which was radiating murderous intent from afar, shining down as if wanting to incinerate him. He shuddered, sensibly not daring to answer the Omegina, and hurriedly lowered his head to continue gnawing on the tough piece of smoked meat.
"Why aren't you saying anything? Beaten mute?" Rowan saw his submissive appearance, and instead became even more curious.
