 Open Fluttery Pegasi
The hippogriffs. Even from this distance the were awe-inspiring. Most of them were partnered up in pairs, and had another hippogriff to keep them company, but there were three that were alone. It was these three that held Quinn's attention currently. Were they lonely in there by themselves? Were they sad? Or where they kept alone, because like Quinn, they preferred it often to being with their own kind.
It was hard to read a hippogriff's expressions to determine which was the case. Finally, Quinn selected one that seemed more lethargic at present than the other two. It could have been he was just tired, or it could be depression. She decided her intentions worked either way. If sleepy, he would get a nice bedtime story. If depressed, he would get some time and attention.
She took exactly two steps closer to his stable, and curtsied deep and respectfully. They were after all proud and regal creatures. That she knew from reading. Quinn waited, patient and anxious.
The hippogriff studied her intensely, giving nothing away, and for a brief moment Quinn wondered if this is what it felt like for others when she studied them. At last, though, came the return bow.
Quinn stepped up to stable door, careful not to move too fast, or seem threatening in anyway. There was a placard on the stable door. Grey Feathers? The name certainly seemed to fit. "How do you do, Grey Feathers?" she asked with another small curtsy. "I don't think I'm quite allowed to touch you without permission," she said, regretfully. Wasn't that part of the greeting ritual? You bow, and if you get a bow back, physical touch is the next part?
"I'm sorry. How about I read to you instead?" Quinn held up the ever present, nondescript book in her hand, slowly, and let Grey Feathers look it over a moment. She took a seat on a bale of hay near the stable. "This book is about a unicorn. I'm sorry I couldn't find one about a hippogriff. There don't seem to be that many I've found. And the ones I've come across have seemed rather insulting to me." The fiction books at least. "I hope this is alright?" She opened the book and began to read. "The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle." She smiled at that. "I named my beagle Peter S. after him." She let out a small, uncharacteristic giggle at that, and flipped the page. Quinn began to read, "Chapter one. 'The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived alone...'"
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