Larry
*The soft sounds of a log being whittled away mixed with those of a gentle hum as they flowed down the library staircase. At the cradle of the river of sound, sat Luna nestled between a mountain of pillows with a log in her hand and a book opened to an image of a carved swallow.*

*Her hands gently caressed the sides of the fir, her skillful motions sweeping away layers from the wood, as if she was releasing the bird from a cage that had bound it her whole life. Her headphones kept her constrained to a world of her own, only shared with the world by her occasional humming.*

*The transition towards living in Newton's Cradle wasn't very pleasant, but she was always taught to make the best of a bad situation. She already missed her dad back home, what would he think of her now? She couldn't wait to be back, if only it wasn't for that freakish monster inside her... She wouldn't have to be here.*

*She scowled at the thought, the previously clear sea that her mind sailed through turned stormy and shaky. Her grip on the knife slips and she cuts off more of the wood that she intends to, leaving one of the bird's wings smaller than the other.*

*Within her mind, she could almost swear she hears the bird cry out in pain. Or perhaps that was just the screaming chorus of death metal, with a sigh, she places the half carved log back at the table and stops to take a long hard look at it.*
Ann
Birds... And cages. She'd seen some pretty cool birds out in the woods that day, and was thinking about it as she wandered into the library that evening with sticks still dangling from her messy hair and a burlap tote over her shoulder.

Akvilė, however, hadn't went out to birdwatch. She'd been out foraging all day, digging in the dirt and picking berries, and was in a suitably good mood as she passed the librarian's desk and made a beeline for the stairwell. She always liked this particular stairwell. Whether it was the novelty of a spiral staircase or the quiet nest of pillows that waited up top she tended towards it when she did enter the Cradle. She didn't question the *Why* Usually; it was easier to simply accept it as a quirk.

However, something was different about the stairwell today. On an average day she expected to hear quiet conversation, a board game being played, or nothing at all, but what she heard instead flowing down the banister completely jolted her mind. It was the unmistakable noise of wood being whittled, and that familiar noise completely wiped out any prior thoughts she'd had. Rushing up the stairs she soon spotted the mystery woodcarver: a lass, with large headphones on and a chunk of half-carved fir on the table opposite her. A smile spread across her features, soft and not entirely of her own will, and after a moment of trepidatious staring she crossed the room and dropped her tote onto the table far enough way to not disturb the carving in progress.

"Um... Y-you are carving a sparrow, I see?" Slightly stilted, her speech is rough and accented but intelligible. Really, it's just a stutter that's giving hee trouble. "Its wings... Wings are difficult."
Larry
*It's funny how quick an instinct can take place when someone is honed in on something. As soon as Akvilé arrives at the top of the flight of stairs, and the little pillowed nook where Luna resided, the girl's eyes shifted towards her, sharp as a knife. For a brief moment, one could almost **Swear** Her eyes looked canine in nature, like a wolf in it's den, however, the intense glare seemed to disappear just as quickly as it came. A figment of the imagination and nothing more.*

*Instead, her eyes turn soft even as she forms an uneasy smile. It's immediately apparent that the other girl with the whittling knife in her hands isn't particularly used to human interaction, and from her uneasy expression, she probably wasn't very used to the Cradle as a whole either. Still, it seemed she did her best to tough out both her anxiety and shyness with a wavy smile as she lowered her headphones.*

*Quickly, sound flooded Luna's ears, sounds of walking people, stammered giggles from down in the library and the rattle of the wind against the windows all came to her mind, mixing with the scent of old paper emerging from the book, the smell of the fir and the range of aromas that the newcomer had dragged in from outside.*

*She stares back down at the half-carved log down on the table, a ball of wood shavings sitting besides it, then back at the stranger sitting across her. She does her best to keep smiling.* "It's s-supposed to be a *Swallow.*" *She says, her voice drowned with self critique. Unlike Akvilé's, her voice sounds polished but cut off through her stuttering, she sounds... British, maybe? It's hard to tell with how quietly she speaks.* "I w-was trying to carve a Swallow, b-but my hand slipped, and I screwed up. Again." 

*The way her voice drops deeper and bassier at the end makes it explicitly clear that this means a lot more to here than just a slightly smaller wing on a Swallow carving.*
Ann
*Huh.*

Nothing in her expression betrayed the fact that she noticed something primal in the girl's eye, but she'd noticed quick, and immediately knew something ancient resided in her bones. This didn't stop her from curiously staring at the woodcarving on the table, however.

"Ah. I um... I understand." She speaks plainly, kneeling down to eye level with the carving. Without so much as permission or even an utterance she raises one hand to the clipped wing, feeling the roughed edge of the gouge against her fingertips and humming softly. "Fir is– f-fir is fussy. Much brittle." She continues, talking to herself and the aitvaras as much as she's talking to the girl with something ancient lurking in her gaze. "It is such. Mistakes are, um... Common with such woods, yes."

Perhaps it wasn't comforting to hear, but then she didn't know if comfort was actually what the situation demanded. Plus how was she supposed to comfort someone she didn't know? She rose to her feet again, and paced a few steps about the opposite curve of the table from the lass.

"I-I think the wood may have just, um... It may have suffered much in its– in its... Life, yes. Nothing to– to shed tears for."
Larry
"It's... O-Okay. You d-don't have to pretend to care." *Luna told Akvilé, with the same cutting assumption she applied to most people. She already knew how acted as if they cared, give false sympathies to comfort themselves into believing that they were a good person. She knew that her hobby was strange to most people. Her statement was blunt with it's impact yet it's cut shallow reaching, an quick assumption that was more hurtful that she herself imagined.*

*Though with a few seconds to think about what the other girl had actually said, a nagging insecurity wriggled up her throat. The same instant regret that appears after someone accidentally says something they did not intend to, or realize was much more malicious than originally thought.* "..S-Sorry. That's pr-probably rude. I h-haven't been in a good mood. Y-You seem to know your woodcutting a-at least." *She said, trying to own up to what she just told the other girl moments ago and handing her best forced smile. A smile that was entirely formed from her lips but one that was quickly revealed as a farse by her eyes. A sweet lie to make someone feel at ease, rather than a genuine one sprung out of one's entire expression.*

*With careful, trained hands, Luna scooped up the carving and examined it, her fingers grazed over the small wing.* "It's... Not p-perfect anymore. Sh-Shattered, splintered in a way I d-did not intend but... None of us are r-right?" *She justified, placing the carving back upon the table and picking her carving knife back up, continuing the carve the swallow.* "M-Maybe it was just... B-born that way. S-Sometimes the wood kn-knows better than you wh-what it wants to be, and y-you just help it be." 

*She continued to carve, not looking towards Akvilé, more seemingly avoiding eye contact, but still conversing with her.* "I'm Luna. Luna Hernández, I g-got here not too l-long ago... Still g-getting used to people but... It's n-nice to meet you."
Ann
"Who, uhm... Wh-who said I am lying? I have done this, uhm... This h-hobby," The word seems to be tough to spit out, "Muchly. But it is OK."

More out of a reflex than a conscious thought, Akvilė responded in turn, shaky words built on solid foundations aimed squarely at the assumption that she was faking interest in a hobby that defined her in a sense. It wasn't personal, nor a bruised ego; she simply felt it had to be said. She continued to look down, tucking one arm up against her stomach and nervously pawing at the fabric of her shirt.

Akvilė watched from up high as the girl gingerly lifted the carving up into her palms, a carving implement braided through the bends of her fingers, and simply listened as she spoke– mostly in a sad way. The other girl spoke of perfection, and the imperfections in everyone, and living with such cracks in the glass. A little wisdom and a *Lot* Of doubts. She knew a thing or two about both, and had a few thoughts clattering about her skull as she pulled a chair just close enough so she could reach the burlap sack she'd left on the table.

"I-I guess." She says at first, hand shifting uncertainly along the back of the chair she opens her mouth. "Wood is, uhm... It-it is gift. From the mother. She– she does know best." She continues. "The– the mother of us all, yes. But she is... Sh-she is busy, an– and she bends strangely. You are... Doing best wi- with what she has given you." There's a moment of silence as she walks around the aft end of the chair and turns the bag upside down. A multitude of forage falls from its mouth: berries, nuts, roots, medicinal flowers. Mushrooms too; even a couple with distinctive white-studded red caps. "B-but, uhm... You are Luna? Hi. I-i'm Akvilė."

She falls silent, and gestures to the chair.

"Mind if I, um... Sit? Much forage to– to sort."
Cheryl
I've been busy, sorry. I'm at the tail end of the school year and projects are piling up 😓