Nov. 18th, 2011

ravenswept: (Default)
2) Write a scene with a drunken mythological creature

“Professor?”

“Yes, yes, what is it?”

“What is it that phoenixes eat?”

Professor Gel puffed, never looking up from the numerous papers of numerous languages displayed in front of him. “Technically, they don’t have to eat or drink anything; immortal rebirthing from flame and all that.”

Yukkum looked from the phoenix alight on its perch, to the professor and back. “But when they do…”

“A little of anything any normal bird would ingest. Fish, meat, dead meat, sweetened water; I myself prefer berries, mainly because the kitchen allows me to pilfer their stocks before they throw out whatever they won’t serve us anymore.”

“Oh.”

A moment went by before the professor crinkled some papers under his hands. “And just what to do you mean by, ’oh’, you increasingly irritating git?”

“Um, I think the berries you got might have fermented before you gave them to Ice.”

“Oh?” The professor finally looked away from his desk. “And why would you suggest that.”

“Your bird is drunk… sir.”

Professor Gel cocked his head to the side, his unkempt hair doing well to simulate canine ears, and left his desk to move closer to the perch. “Continue student. What leads you to this conclusion?”

Yukkum blinked, not quite sure why his teacher was suddenly going into his teaching mode, but sighed and figured it was better than being ignored or forbade from the offices. “Well, the waver of the neck, her eyes look fogged over, I think she’s emitting the equivalent of a ‘hiccup’ and, well… have you ever seen a phoenix of green fire?” Ice gave another of her “hics” and cocked her own head at the professor, which resulted in her head resting against an emerald wing, completely upside down.

“Fascinating,” was all the professor could say for several minutes, staring in scholarly wonder at his inebriated pet. “Yukkum,” was said so suddenly he jumped at his own name, “run down to the herbology green houses and procure some of that smoke-weed Professor Vacco is splicing together.”

He took a few steps towards the door before turning around. “May I ask, since I don’t believe it to be of any help, why, sir?”

Professor Gel looked over and gave that toothy grin he and his colleagues were famous for.

“Because, once this old bird sobers up, I want to see what color it will turn when we get it high.”


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