There are many creatures found in the depths of Arcadia. Some of these creatures are disruptive. Some are destructive. Some are downright dangerous.
But Arcadia, for all it’s faults and foibles, has a softer side.
There are some creatures in certain levels of Arcadia that are very much the opposite. Take Colt here, for instance. A loyal companion, trustworthy and brave. I could not venture as I do through danger and treachery without him keepin’ watch by my side.
I’ve seen cats, and rabbits, and tiny field mice. I’ve seen things poke from the ground, out of shrubs, and dive down from the sky.
I’ve seen many birds, common and rare. But I’ve never seen one so interestin’ as the Waxwing.
The Waxwing is a rare phenomenon – I’ve only laid eyes on but two in Arcadia.
The first, a spry little pixie of a creature, dartin’ about in level designation 151, it caught me off guard. I had never seen anythin’ else like it. A silky brown plumage, and a patterned black and white face, it whistled an entrancin’ song, each note echoin’ through the air, keen and clear. I followed it for a while, before I left to search another level.
The other Waxwing I have met is a similar creature. It appears in times of quiet and sings its song, it’s patterned black and white face croonin’ into the night. Many people who hear it’s song feel entranced by it, and there are legends that if the song is about you that you will take your final breath. This one they call Cantando La Muerte. Singin’ death.
But the bird, though legend says otherwise, does not bring death to those it sings of. It brings neither disruption, destruction, or danger.
When I returned through level designation 151, just days later, I once more found the Waxwing, though this time it did not sing. I found it on the floor, dead and desecrated. It’s innards no longer in, but out, and smeared along the grass.
The bird, entrancin’ as it was, had attracted the attention of the wrong sort of creature. A creature that sought to snuff it out before it’s song had even ended.
I fear the only other Waxwing I’ve seen, with it’s patterned face and it’s entrancing song, is minded to go the same way. Singin’ it’s song, as it does, and attractin’ the wrong sort of creature. Big creatures who don’t take kindly to songbirds gettin’ in their way. It too, brings neither disruption, destruction, or danger.
Cantando La Muerte had better stop it’s racket, before the racket is ripped from it’s throat and smeared along the ground, just like it’s sibling was in level designation 151. Song and purpose ended early.
But I think this bird loves to sing too much. It sings of death, but the only death it’s song will bring, is the death of itself.
The death of the song bird.
Cantando La Muerte, or muerte del canto?
The bird may have seen a lot, but it sure ain’t seen half the shit I seen.
And soon he’ll be nothin’ but offal.