[Despite herself, Rosalind feels a little thrill run through her at the sight. Good god, look at them: brown and blue and green, waddling around as two larger ones stare out over their brood. There's other nests dotted behind them, and Rosalind takes note of that: they live in clusters, apparently.]
They've got wings, Robert . . .
[She murmurs it, not wanting to startle any of the babies off. They're already examining them (or him, really, they must be able to smell the food on him; a few braver ones are already edging closer, chirping up inquiries and nosing against his shoes).]
I wonder if they breathe fire? Ah-- behave--
[That's to Punnett, who's begun wiggling excitedly. With a little huff she starts tucking his tendrils into the backpack, intent on zipping him up while she examines the dragons.]
no subject
They've got wings, Robert . . .
[She murmurs it, not wanting to startle any of the babies off. They're already examining them (or him, really, they must be able to smell the food on him; a few braver ones are already edging closer, chirping up inquiries and nosing against his shoes).]
I wonder if they breathe fire? Ah-- behave--
[That's to Punnett, who's begun wiggling excitedly. With a little huff she starts tucking his tendrils into the backpack, intent on zipping him up while she examines the dragons.]