"Good" Morning

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Aeosp was a child of the sun. He had golden hair and a personality that could light up a room! There was little that could put the lad in a bad mood or turn his day sour. His youthful vigor was hypnotizing, like watching a dream come to life, vibrantly painted put on an infinite canvas. When he actually did work his fields it was like watching a newly phoenix raise from the ashes. His passion for living gave strength to others as he met even the most menial tasks with fervor. Always was there a smile on his face, a song on his lips, even if a little off key, -- and a cucco on his head.

At the break of dawn the sunlight bled into his loft from the shredded, fabric curtains; the torn fabric was courtesy to his mouser cat, Bandit, who became a little over enthusiastic chasing a mouse. He had fallen asleep flat on his stomach, his tunic messing sling over the edge of his bunk. He slept shirtless as the natural heat produced by his body was plenty to stave off the cool, Ordon nights. A pair of black-colored tights are what all stood between the muffin head and decency as any unsuspecting guest to, rouse the sleepwalker, from suffering temporary blindness! Nudity was not to be suffered so early in the day after all.

The sound of the resident rooster crowed, marking the sunrise before or kissed the horizon with the baling, golden flames that would provide cats and horses along with morning warmth. Even as autumn approached the sun remained an invaluable source of warmth for the farm animals until they were penned in the barns for protection. As was custom: Aesop would never rouse on first crow. Phionox, the rooster, knew his duty. After crowing, and cocka-doodoe-doing, the red feathered cucco fumbled up to Aesop's room, which was several feet up a tree on the edge of town, a perfect spot to have a large cucco sanctuary with the natural protection of Ordon's stony horizon. Phionix fluttered through the open window. All that separated Aesop from the elements was a thing curtain of linen. The clucking cucco hopped onto his bed, treading along his covered body. The bird's skull slowly leaned toward Aesop's ear, head cocking in curiosity.

CU-CAAW!

The loud crow rang through the loft, followed by a most disconcerting crunch. The cucco sat on the pillow, which had tumbled to the ground. Off the edge of the loft Aesop lay chin-to-floor. "G-good- morning." He muffled, cheek squished flat against the wooden plants of his hut. Groaning the young cucco farmer pushed to his feet. He looked up to his loft, raising his hand. "Could you at least pass me my--hmph!!" He was smacked in the face with his tunic, tumbling backwards.

After a bit of finangling he would manage to pull his tunic overhead. Grabbing a piece of bread, courtesy of the miller, and slathering it with butter, the handler made his way out towards the hen house. On his way out he grabbed his fishing rod. There was no way he was going to tend to the cuccos very long before he was hungry. Fish sounded like a good snack. Munching his bread on the way out, the fishing rod would hook the pail of feed. Aesop would use the end of the rod to tap the hen's house before casting the rod's line, spilling the feed around the yard. Drawing the line back in he would hunker down on a stool to wait for the hens to march out. But -- they did not. Aesop peeked into the house to find the cuccos all covering in a corner. He looked around and blinked.

"Where's Penelope and Marghrita?" He questioned, only for manic clucking to commence and the hens flee the house before they became distracted by the feed and ate. The fluttering hens assaulted Aesop with feathers. Plucking a few from his messy hair he looked around, only to notice a hole in the fence. What the? He dropped the fishing rod before hopping over the fence. "Phionix! Keep an eye on the girls. I am going to go find Penelope and Margharita!" The doofus dashed across the fields out towards the edge of the town.

In the edge the Faron Province a strange noise filtered through the air. Brau uck uck cuk.... It was no wild beast one has ever heard before. THe two hens had found refuge up a tree, their snoring sounding like the stalking crackles of distant laughter. In the meanwhile Aesop rushed all over, following their itty bitty tracks in search for his dear hens!

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That was... strange. Grey paused in the mechanical process of tacking Barrel, something they rarely did, to scan the surroundings for the noise. It took a while for it to register as a far-off Cucco squawk. They didn't spend much time close enough to villages to get used to livestock sounds. It was... disorienting. Time to move o --

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It was... moving closer?? Why was it coming closer? Cuccos lived in houses, didn't they? Little, ah, cucco houses? Pens. Pens, that was the word. This was getting weird.
Moving carefully, Grey finished tying their packs to their saddle. They then stood as still as they could, even breathing slowly, to see if --

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There. It was a ways south of th0'eir campsite. At this point, Grey was actually getting curious. Pens don't move, right? Or are there mobile pens? Plus, maybe there would be something to eat in that direction. Or did Cuccos run wild, too? They didn't remember.
Cuccos make for good eating, don't they?  Grey wondered to themself. Maybe if I -- no, no, it probably ran off from someone in Ordon. It likely needs to go h--

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That. That was not south. Grey whipped around. Either Cuccos move really fast, or someone was signalling someone else. Mind racing, they drew their hunting knife, mentally kicked themselves again for not keeping up with their hand-to-hand combat lessons, and backed up against Barrel. At least they could trust Barrel, unlike the freaky teleporting Cucco noises.

And that was when they heard the footsteps.

Grey stiffened. Not only was one-on-one combat a nightmare for someone so used to mounted combat against multiple enemies, it was absolutely the most uncomfortable thing in the world for them. They hated how they had to get in their opponent's personal space. It was just... gross.

The footsteps got closer. I'm going to have to learn to use a sword. This is just embarrassing. I'm going against two, maybe three people with a knife no longer than my forearm.

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The recent resident of Ordon, though it had been at least two years now, had still found it difficult to break old habits formed in his country. Where livestock was slain for simply walking into the pasture of a neighbor, he had the predisposed panic of losing his animals were they out of sight. Ordonians were not as cruel, but his heart would not calm til he aw not a feather in their head had been harmed. The loss of Penelope and Margharita gave him such a fright, stricken with panic. He did not wish to start conflict with his new friends, nor further any suspiscuon, he felt lay, on his origins. Any questions of his past were quickly ended with vague 'it's borrring', or 'I was a desert farmer', which did showcase a mundane life; such a life was far from the truth or expectations of the reality he refused to paint beyond his familiarity with animal husbandry.

He had a few close calls as he darted and dashed through the village. Though it was more of a town these days, with its growth. The dogs were out doing the jobs whilst cats made it difficult for mice to sully the grain stores. With winter on the way all critters sought getting fat or stealing the hard work of others. The goats occasionally escaped the pens, while horses fussed over being tied to the cart before feeding time. It was a charming, sort of, organized chaos. It was quaint, a life Aesop loves, but as he admired the hard working farmers and equally hardworking animals the old memories still made him a little sad.

"You can do this! Penelope and Margarhita are depending on you!" He pumped himself up with encouragement.

When others needed your help, it was harder to be selfish! He believed strongly in being a good neighbor! Heroes couldn't be selfish and demand reapect. He was a little awkward, sure -- but he did his best to be earnest. Leaping over obstacles he would profusely apologize only to bound into another, nearly cutting his life expectancy in half. As he saw the town's gates come into view he slowed from his sprint to a light jog. Before he knew it, he was jogging in front of the gates. Stilling he looked around.

"Penelope?" He put his hand over his mouth. "Margarhita?!" He frowned, only to turn his head and spot a few white feathers tucked against a notch in the post between the wood and wire.

They had been here! Aesop moved to leap over the gate, bending it out of place. Oh geez. He'll fix that later! While Aesop frantically charged through the paths… the two cuccos sat perched in a tree. The larger female, Penelope, looked down to take notice of a figure below. It wasn't Aesop. He was late. Normally he won hide and seek rather quickly. The spoiled birds were quite unaware of their feeder's distress. Penelope shook her wing at Margarhita, alerting her of the unknown presence below. The cucco clucked.

Buuuak kaw kaw kaw….

Bagawk!

Penelope laid an egg… right over Grey.

As for Aesop he had armed himself with a branch… more like he ran through a buck feeling it a shortcut and was now covered head to tow in leaves, as Co in autumn made leaves just she'd from their branches, and more brittle sticks tear right off. He slid into view, looking like a gargantuan, very angered Deku Sprout. Oh dear.

SPLAT!

"AAAAAAAAeeeeeEEEEUUUUGHHHHhh!!" With their yell broken suddenly by an uncharacteristically feminine screech, Grey had lost they element of surprise. Whatever attacker was coming could easily locate them, and in a very enclosed forest with just a knife, they were completely vulnerable. Barrel wouldn't be able to help them, as he was tied to a tree; they had virtually no knife experience, which wouldn't really matter in a battle against so many enemies; and they had lost the coverage on their back (the tree).

Of course, those were the least of their worries.

Grey THREW the knife down (narrowly missing their foot), grabbed the edge of their coat and hunched forward to try to clear the warm, sticky substance off their eyes and forehead. Please don't be acid please don't be acid ew ew ew EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW The speed of their movements nearly caused them to overbalance, so they staggered forwards, trying to avoid going down. They crashed into a bush, feet madly scrabbling to try and retain balance; it was surprisingly solid, but at this point, that didn't even matter. They just had to get the disgustingly sticky substance off their face before they died of physical discomfort. A few seconds of furious wiping later, Grey, heart still pounding, whipped up to look for the attackers... and realized that the bush they were leaning against was warm... and solid... and really, really human.

"AH!"

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The cuccos found the Hylian's distress hilarious. They clucked away, sounding little like pranksters and more like ordinary, roosting fowl. It was troubling how cruel the birds were, though territorial and spoiled they could be quite rowdy. What was most foul was the heinous plant monster standing in front of the blinded Grey. While their sense of touch went haywire Aesop slid into view, nearly tumbling into the non-specific Hylian, just managing to stand on his own two feet. In their fury, the egged victim had latched themselves to his leafcloak, tugging the heavy male, more muscle bound than one could have expected of a cucco farmer.

"Uhh, are you okay?" His voice was bright, gentle. "Don't move too fast, the leaves make it pretty slippery, here." He would reach against himself to grab a few leaves before handing a bunch off to the distressed warrior.

Aesop's gloved hands were actually quite warm. The big galoot was oblivious to the harm his own birds had caused his neighbor, land's sake he didn't even know it was his neighbor. Grey wasn't the most easy to spot, but neither were they hard to notice. Aesop did get around the village, pulling his weight around, most literally. He was inclined to help neighbors with heavy labour since tending to chickens and his smaller property wasn't all that taxing to his time. With a small coop to tend and water to fetch, he had only the hens and rooster to feed in the mornings and himself. Most Ordonians lived in families, because families ran farms much more efficiently, as opposed to lone ranchers.

Aesop had no dogs to help herd the grumpy birds, the birds were more evil than most predators, especially Phenex and Penelope, partners in crime. He didn't have horses because his eggs never went farther than the gates, any eggcess was bought by this traveling merchant, a Zora who had a weird fascination with eggs. So, in effect, Aesop had no horse. Though he did have a goat he called Billy Goat Thornton, who fancied thistles and did help Aesop clear stumps in the fields.

He looked up, hearing familiar clucking. "Penelope, Margharita!!!" His eyes filled with tears as he cried out.

In a freakish show of agility Aesop sped up the vertical tree with astonishing speed. He scooped up the cuccos had hugged them tight. The birds rolled their eyes, but allowed it. The big brute sat perched on the thin branch, his black work pants kinking up against his shins, showing that tanned flesh ran down to his legs! The branch, surprisingly did not snap under his weight, but the leaves did fall away to reveal the cucco farmer in his full, yellow, leaf-maned glory, as twigs and leaves still poked from his sunny hair.

The boy's decision to leave them alone was more appreciated than he likely knew. Grey swatted around for the assumedly outstretched hand. The moment they grabbed hold, they snatched up the leaves and scrabbled backwards, falling on their rear in their hurry to get the disgusting, horrible substance out of their eyes and hair. They scrubbed at their face with both sleeves and leaves,
Everything was going too fast and too loud and too much. "Penelope, Margherita!!" cut through the chaos like a knife, stabbing in, and that was it. They were done. Nope.
Grey needed to just stop. They drew their knees to their chest, gripping them like a lifeline, and shut their eyes. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six. Each breath they counted went slower and slower until they were able to open their eyes again.
Not quite ready to talk yet, Grey picked themself up and brushed the leaves off their cloak.
The boy, judging from the mess of foliage he'd left behind, had climbed the tree and retrieved… huh. Look at that. Two actual Cuccos. Grey blinked, mentally cursing themself for not looking up in their fear. I cannot believe… I was scared… of two actual Cuccos. They resolved to never tell a single living soul about it.
Finally, with a good, deep breath, Grey spoke. "Thank you. Are your… birds alright?"

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Aeosp was a child of the sun. He had golden hair and a personality that could light up a room! There was little that could put the lad in a bad mood or turn his day sour. His youthful vigor was hypnotizing, like watching a dream come to life, vibrantly painted put on an infinite canvas. When he actually did work his fields it was like watching a newly phoenix raise from the ashes. His passion for living gave strength to others as he met even the most menial tasks with fervor. Always was there a smile on his face, a song on his lips, even if a little off key, -- and a cucco on his head.

At the break of dawn the sunlight bled into his loft He was a golden-haired child of the goddesses. Bright and full of life there was little in this world that could get him down or make him frown. Even if he was worried, in pain, tears never left his heart. As such his spirit was tempered from the perilous life. Life hurt and it was unfair, but there were always good things just beyond the path. If one stopped, if one gave up -- they could never find it. Sadness did not burden his soul, only a sympathy that caused him to bleed for others. A wretched lair, only good for his honest, piercing words. Blunt, but gentle, he was like the sun. Both was he a source of light and a source of truth. Nothing could hide from the sun and all its glory, fires consuming the land at sunrise and fluttering out at sunset. He was a golden example of an idiot -- being unable to catch a cold. He would run until there was no more land to run -- but when that time came: he would swim! Surely if the goddesses were wont to permiss it -- he would fly.

Aesop was ecstatic! Penelope and Margahrita were well and good. They were is prize egg layer after all! Penelope was the flock’s matriarch while Margahrita was her niece. Quite a pair of troublemakers with Margahrita trying to do well by her auntie hen! The cucco farmer placed the larger hen on his head, the smaller Penelope moved to perch on his shoulder. He was glad to be reunited with them, afraid that the neighbors… The Ordonian natives were real nice. Aesop didn't want to think then the sorts to cull his livestock, but a hard territory made it the first conclusion reached. He was glad to see such nice folk lived here.

It was a paradise!

Aesop kicked off the branch and with force. He was clearly unafraid of the consequences, confident in his skills. With only a sleeveless, sun-colored tunic it was easy to see his muscular frame. While not overbearing in his figure, he was no acrawny, pipaqueak. Bring could cucco farming be so laborious? The farmer was quite strong, regarsless. Neighbors often seeking his bull-like resilience. The way his muscle twitched beneath his flesh, his body moved and flexed with purpose. He was no amateur. When he landed he gave a brilliant smile that outshone the morning sun. He held out his gloved hand in greeting as he took a step forward.

"Hey there, I'm Aesop--!" And as if to right everything in the universe: the moment the young man took a step forward his boot would catch against a stone embedded in the soils.

The birds on his shoulders cried out in ca-caws, and fluttered into the air as the tree came a tumbling. Aesop fell head over heels (quite literally) as he crashed down. His forward momentum was so that his legs kicked into the air, heels clearing the height as he faceplantes the dirt. It took little more than half a second for the fellow to recover. He kicked to his feet and the cuccos dropped down onto each of his shoulders.

He stood with his hands on his hips, a confident super heroic pose, but mud on his face. "I'm a farmer!" Goddesses knew that boy was probably just the face of the farm, leaving the birds in charge.

Truly a deceptive lad filled with enigmatic intrigue… no perhaps it was just a morbid curiosity as to how one so positively bright could survive so long in such a harsh world. Did goodness like that even exist? Was it a ploy -- or was he truly the village idiot that was given charity by the village?

This boy was like nothing they'd ever seen. It was like Hylia had taken a piece of the sun and shaped it into a personality. He was so... happy. That was a strange concept for them. They had grown too used to their own company, perhaps.
Then again, Grey didn't find themself unhappy. They just found their happiness differently. They weren't big on smiling, and people took that to mean they were angry, or depressed, or generally displeased, or something. They didn't know. They were happy in their own way, happy with Barrel and their lances and their gear. They liked what they did, and it kept people safe. They were happy all on their own. Right?
... he hadn't answered their question. Well, they guessed, falling flat on your face could do that to your concentration. The lance-wielder shuffled their feet, not knowing how to help the boy. "... Nice to meet you, Aesop, and thank you for the leaves. I'm Grey. Do you... need to wipe your face?" they asked, sticking out a half-gloved hand. Was that too blunt? That was roughly when they realized they had basically nothing to help the boy with. Please, Hylia, let him be intelligent enough to know he shouldn't wipe his face on my hand...

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Aesop blinked as Grey introduced themselves. The mud dripped from the sided of his face, twigs and leaves decorating the whole. He cocked his head, mind drawing over the name. It was not a name he had heard before. It was small and simple, hardly like these more complex Hylian names that had some ancient meaning or bizarre string of hard to pronounce letters like those big guys in the mountain. It was kind of nice. They were cute too! He couldn't tell if Grey was a guy or a girl. Their face was neutral, heck everything about them was pretty neutral, right down to their hair style.

"That's a nice name! It reminds me of the sky!" He blurted out. "Rainy days, they're grey too! Cozy, loud, beautiful… you can really hear the soil appreciate the grey clouds!" Of course being born and raised in barren lands the rains were a blessing and a curse.

Grey skies told of water coming for their crops. When Aesop rook to notice and slumped over in slight to try and rub the mud from his features. That was totally embarrassing! He was a mess. Mother didn't raise a slob afterall. Even in all his sun soaked cacophony he was well groomed and clean. He didn't do a good job of wiping away the mud, instead he made it worse! The cucco clucked and cackled at his despair. Like a giant kid, obeying a mother, he leaned down to rest his hands on his thighs so he was at Grey's height.

"Wouldya please?" He sighed. "Sorry about the girls scaring you. They'll be alright," he finally answered. "And I'm pretty resilient. A farmer's gotta be!" He assured.

If Grey took the chance to wipe Aesop's face the warrior would have chance to see the sculpted features of the worker. The man wasn't a giant, in the least, but he was well built to last and to charm. A baby face that hailed his youthfulness and a body carved from his time tilling the earth. There was no one better to have as a farmer as they looked to take care of themselves and their animals, which few often did in such a relaxes place like Ordon. Goats and cucco would never leave the confines of the village and if they did they were probably lost to wolves or Bokoblin.

"I think I seen you around before, or maybe. That grey head I maybe mistook ya for a cloud too low to the ground." He gave a warm laugh. "I live right by in Ordon, wanna come down for breakfast?" Though it was almost ten, sometimes workers had breakfast late. "I mean it's the least I can do for the hens giving you such a frighten." Yeah he saw Grey's panic. It was pretty obvious. Who wanted egg on their face in the morning? "What's a fella like you doing out here anyway? Someone might mistake you for a bandit!" They didn't seem to have any weapons on them, so no hunter...