The King of Crows

The Language of Crows

It had been a few minutes, both of us sitting on the sofa as we tried to understand what on Earth was going on. I was on VC with the three guys we'd befriended, trying to explain to them in a way that made sense. Unfortunately...

"So you're saying that you understood a bit of whatever the crow was saying?" Tommy asked, reassuring himself while the two brunets tried to piece together what was even being said to them. Yeah... only Tommy had the full story at the time. Kinda forgot about that.

"Yes, very much that," I answered, nodding along with Phil beside me. Emotions filled with curiosity as he watched us talk together on the call. "Which isn't normal!"

"Well I guessed that by the fact you were screaming it out like there was no tomorrow!" Tommy spoke back, also yelling as he said that. Hypocrite. I could hear him sigh on the other end. "Anyway, Philza's the only other person that can understand crows at this time right?"

"Correct."

"You've probably just accidently learnt how to understand their language a bit then!" He said, trying his best to reassure us this time. I smiled a little, knowing damn well it wasn't that. I'm too dumb to somehow magically learn the crow's language.

"Can someone please tell us what the fuck is going on now?!"

"Ah-" I forgot those two were in the call. Wilbur deserved to know, he was one of the reincarnated after all. George on the other hand... "One second, Tommy can explain everything in his own way."

I quickly deafened on my side, not wanting to hear however that would go down, but I trusted the man. I glanced over to Phil, his curiosity so peaked towards the voice call going on.

"They are still speaking with one another, yet we are completely unable to hear them?" He asked in a sort of soft and shocked tone. Nodding to his question, his eyes widened at the spectacle. "How truly fascinating. You humans really have grown advanced since the last time any of you bothered to acknowledge me in any way."

"Yeah..." I sighed out, trying my hardest to show I completely understood more than half of what was said to me. It's really hard. The language of Olden Fancy, or whatever it is, is not what I want circling my brain all the time. "Anyway, did you know someone named George? Or someone who closely resembled the George we know here?"

Both of us became silent, the only continuous sound coming from the ruffling feathers of the murder playing around on the living room floor. He looked distressed as he thought for an answer in his mind, while I waited patiently knowing that it probably wasn't an easy task to remember so far back.

"I am sorry my dear," He apologised, his voice suddenly so soft and caring. "I have not, on either."

"It's okay," I smiled at him, gently holding onto his hands as a way of reassurance. I noticed a faint tint of blush starting to appear on his cheeks as my action registered in his mind, which was honestly quite cute. "You're not gonna know everyone here. Some will be known, and some will be new."

Philza nodded along slowly, eyes staring down at our hands connected together. The faint blush not fading away even as I averted my eyes back to the VC. Instantly undeafening when I saw a proud Tommy and two shocked brunets.

"The hell you tell them?"

"Everything you told me," He answered, taking pride with the responsibility I had just given him. "Which wasn't a lot, but hey, it was enough!"

"So, you're saying, Philza is a king?" Wilbur asked through the call, earning a nod from me in return. "An immortal one at that if we take into account Tommy said he's in the portrait. Which I'm guessing is old!"

"William is very much correct," Phil spoke up, gaining the attention of all four of us. Wilbur's eyes widened as he heard the name slip from his mouth. "I am immortal due to my late wife's magical abilities, that some often would have preferably adored to have seen as a curse. Maybe even now there would be mortal humans that would see this as a curse just as much."

"And your... family?" George's voice perked up, hesitating a little. Tommy must've also told them about Philza having a son that looked like him as well.

"All of them were murdered in, frighteningly, cold blood."

All of the guys stayed silent on the VC, eyes wide as they stared at Phil through their screens. With a sigh, I passed my phone to Phil before standing up from the sofa.

"I'm gonna make some toast," I spoke up, feeling his eyes gaze over me in confusion. "Probably just... put butter on it. I'm lazy right now."

I could hear the guys talking to one another as I walked to the kitchen, feeling one of the crows land on my shoulder. Snuggling against my neck. Grabbing two pieces of bread, I shoved them in the toaster and waited for them to pop out. Tapping my fingers on the kitchen counter, I began to hear the crow trill to itself- or perhaps to me. I strained my ears, trying desperately to understand the crow's language yet again. Even for just a few seconds.

"... Know.." The little bird suddenly said, plopping themselves onto the counter in front of me. I smiled brightly, hearing some of the language randomly again. I couldn't help myself, and rested my chin on the cold counter's surface. Waiting for the bird to continue. The crow looked quite young, maybe more innocent than the weird cult ones- "Mr.... likes you!!"

The crow began to flap their wings, happy little caws as I lost all ability to hear their language again. I would've been upset, wanting to gain more skills on their language, but what the young crow said...

"Mr? Mr Philza?" I asked, leaning a teeny closer to them. "Philza... likes me?"

The crow happily nodded.

"As in.... likes likes me?"

The young crow flapped their wings like crazy, trilling with supposed joy.

"Oh my god..."