Magic has fallen on the backburner to the modern age. Computers and internet replacing scrolls of transmission and libraries, cars replacing the taming of magical beasts, and there is not a mage alive or dead who can match the speed of a bullet. The...
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Huh?! You want to talk about Anemis? That baboon-faced-pin-head?!
Of course, I have some stories about that spirit! But how dare you ask about some nobody gravity spirit when you are talking to the great thunderbird!
Yes, its me, Thunderbird! Be it humans, demons, gods, monsters or spirits, all honor the great Thunderbird. I who can circle the world in eight minutes laugh at the foolish humans who brag about a man who made it around in eighty days. You'd imagine someone as heroic as I would inspire cheers, maybe even worship...
But that brain-donating-warty-hog didn't care.
The first time I met it, I was flying around the world delivering packages like usual, blasting past a forest I would normally have completely ignored. I was enjoying the breeze on my wings, the cheers of the people as I zipped around the world faster than sound. But suddenly, I felt some great weight press down on my even greater wings, my body roughly slammed into the ground, spells and incantations that could protect me from harm even if I slammed into a mountain, squealing as they cracked and shattered. "Who's village idiot dare sneak attack the great thunderbird?!" I rightfully scream.
"I'm not even going to humor that," answers back a voice, soft and airy, exactly like a bird-toucher.
I lift my noble beak from the dirt to see a slender creature letting off a divine glow, a pure spirit in the shape of a human. Too delicate to be a man, but the clown is way too rough to be a woman.
You can't figure out Anemis's gender? What kind of oxygen-stealing-pigeon-lover of a scholar are you?
Spirits don't have a born gender or sex like us flesh and blood creatures, since they're just self aware energy. Though once they condense enough energy to make a body, most build themselves their rod or hole. But this brain-donor couldn't decide, so it just stuck to the middle. Made itself pretty, but without going all the way. Probably because it knew it could never be as handsome as the great thunderbird, and feared that it'd fall for me if it went full woman.
Oh window-licker, you distracted me from my story!
Anyway, after being knocked from the sky by that hog-groping-nitwit and its gravity magic I rightfully wanted to tell it exactly why it's a knuckle-dragging dipstick. But as a honorable thunderbird I tried to respectfully warn it, "How dare you interrupt my deliveries you flower-sucking-buttmunch?! Don't you know what happens when someone dare attacks a delivery thunderbird?"
"There is no rule forbidding me from pulling you over for a nice chat," that pigsticker said, offering a smug smile. The pigeon-loving-jerk turned me into a meteor, if that's not an attack than I'm a wingless human But as a professional, I still needed to be calm, so rather than argue with it, I decided to just ask its name and leave, reporting on the spirit later.
"If that's how you want to play it you thimble-headed cork-brain, what's your name? For what reason do you dare get in my way?"
"I am Anemis, and I ordered a package from your company five days ago," It said, "Where is it?"
