"So the birds will start up at four," Daine says slowly, wanting to make sure she understands what's going on, "and then at five, there's no telling." Lovely. She wonders if they ought to head into the five o'clock section now to see if they can figure out what's going to happen there before it actually does. Probably safest to stay on the beach, though.
She pulls out one of the arrows and examines it, turning it between her fingers and frowning. Much like the bow, the shape is more or less right - it's the materials that throw her. It's not even fletched with proper feathers, just with some sort of plastic - or it is metal? For a moment, she's reminded of stormwings, and she jerks her fingers back in sudden fear of being cut open by the not-feathers' edges.
"Back to the beach?" she asks as she carefully puts the arrow away.
no subject
She pulls out one of the arrows and examines it, turning it between her fingers and frowning. Much like the bow, the shape is more or less right - it's the materials that throw her. It's not even fletched with proper feathers, just with some sort of plastic - or it is metal? For a moment, she's reminded of stormwings, and she jerks her fingers back in sudden fear of being cut open by the not-feathers' edges.
"Back to the beach?" she asks as she carefully puts the arrow away.