While I pondered, weak and weary,

Krakarak

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There was one thing that the raven was --amongst many other negative descriptors-- and that was curious. From his vantage point from the air, he could see a few things that he wanted to explore. One being a thing he'd never seen before in his life. A strange, large... thing. He didn't have the word for "boat" or "ship". ТЯФЖ. Or "Alien" is what he'd call it in his own tongue. An alien, lifeless thing, that seemed to be perfectly safe to explore. In fact, there was something that seemed shiny that caught his eye from above. So, he flitted right in.

In through a broken window he flew, landing on an upturned desk where a shattered piece of a mirror lay. It had caught the noon sun, catching the raven's attention. He began to pick at it with his beak, picking it up, turning it and then stopping so that he could look at himself in the reflection. Ah, yes. He absolutely loved the way he looked. How his feathers shone purple in the sunlight, the curve of his own beak.

He clacked his beak together appreciatively as he stared. He turned his head this way and that. Watching himself in all different sorts of angles.

Yes, he was quite lovely.

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quoth the raven