Post by AMBER FO SHO on Feb 5, 2012 15:53:50 GMT -5
so many hurting people
Sometimes it takes stepping into another person's shoes to truly
understand pain. Dakota had faced many problems in her life,
looked death in the face only to be revived, but never to the
extremeties that she had gone through the past eight months.
Humans. They took for granted how easy that they had it, how
life could be so carefree and happy. Sure, they faced many
problems, but most didn't have to worry about being killed every
day. And she was jealous of them. They didn't know what it was
like to have every freedom one could ever have, then have it
ripped away. They didn't know the absolute exhilaration of flying,
but maybe that was for the better. It was hard to deal without it.
without a leg to stand on
Quite a while back, Dakota went through Hell. She was flying in a
bad storm, an attempt to escape an Eraser hot on her trail, when
it happened. She had gotten a good lead on him, but instead of
slowing like she should have and taken cover, she sped up and
flew through the forest at dangerous speeds for even the best of
weather. Her wings were soaked, making the matters of flight
difficult, but she paid no mind. All she could focus on was going
faster, escaping from the torture she had so long endured. Once
she had wanted to die, to be killed in a battle and rest in peace.
Now, the wish for the sweet release of death was present in her
mind. But she knew that if she did die, they would bring her back
to life. She had to get as far away from this place as possible.
they're reaching out every day
Even bird-kids are not as fast as lightning. It struck the tree not
ten feet ahead of her, sparking it into flames like kindling. The
rain, supressed by the thick foilage, did nothing to stop it's quick
combustion, and Dakota only had one choice at the speeds she
was traveling. She tucked her wings and barreled through the
fire, feeling lick at her hair, her feathers, smoldering everything
that wasn't already drentched, and catching fire to the underside
of her flight feathers. She finally came out of the heat, crying out
at the pain wretching through her body. Only when alone would
such a sound come from her, showing truly the pain that she
could conceal at an instant. The rain couldn't put out the flames
here, and she struggled to get above and into the downpour.
we all like to stare
Panicked as she was, she wasn't ready for the gusts of wind
when she broke free of the trees. She didn't realize how far she
had traveled from the outskirts of the storm and into it's more
powerful, tornado like winds. The wind tore her wings from their
sockets like paper, a bird-like cry escaping Dakota's lips, before
she was thrown towards a large tree at frightening speeds. She
had two choices now. Hit it head on, snapping her neck and--
hopefully--killing her instantly, or rotating and using her wings to
try and lessen to blow. At this point, she wasn't ready to face
death, and she managed to get her wings in front of her as she
hit the tree at speeds nearing close to a hundred miles an hour.
and pretend that we care
How long it was before she woke up, she could not tell you, nor
where she had finally fallen in that torrent of the storm. She was
to come-to completely dry in a small clearing in the forest. Her all
so delicate flight feathers were black with soot. Dakota stood,
though it took several failed attempts before she could, but
something felt off. Her wings, usually following the path of her
shoulder blades, hung limp at her sides. That was when the pain
erupted. Her wings were shattered and burned. At that split
second, she feared that she would never fly again. She tore at
one of her pain legs, already fairly shredded, and made a sort of
bandage. Ignoring the pain, she folded her wings into the tight-
ened position on her back and tied them both into a sling...
how can we keep doing nothing?
For how long after, she could not tell. Days blended to weeks,
weeks to months... Whether months had changed to years, she
wouldn't care. Her wings remained on her back, only moving to
change the slings, and she lived amongst the humans. The bird-
kid scent must have been oppressed, because avian-hybrids nor
Erasers bothered her as she went through the streets. At one
point in time, this would have bee Heaven. But without her wings
life was a dull blur. At nights she would dream of falling, but she
had nothing to stop her date with the cold concrete below. Every-
day, she put off trying to outstretch her wings. She was scared
that they were broken beyond repair, and that it would be the
end of her last fringe of sanity to lose her one grip of faith.
can anybody hear me?
Now, she stood atop of a rooftop. Once, this was where she p
lanned to put her base if she ever went through with her
agreement with Jetta. It was the highest building of this portion
of the city, condemned as the "official" roof was. Her she stood,
giving the fierce war cry of a hawk. Anybody down below would
assume it was just an angry bird, but it was much more than
that. Today, she was done hiding. Maybe insanity had finally
taken its grip, but she wasn't going to let anything stop her now.
Flying was her escape once, but now it was her path. She could
not bare to sit around and do nothing anymore. It was time she
helped all that she could, or die trying. If she couldn't fly, she
would run. She would try to be the best flock leaer she could be.
any anybody see me?
She carefully released her make-shift sling, letting it fall from the
roof like drifting feather. Dakota slowly flexed the tips of her flight
feathers. So far so good. Her angel white wings stretched out in
a single fluid motion, throwing a shadow over her. They didn't
hurt, but that didn't necassarily mean they set correctly. Still, she
couldn't help but let a smile cross her face. All this time without
flight, she might be able to take to the skies again. Would it be
possible, could it be true? She had no idea, but she had to try.
Her wings would be sore, but she could possibly fly once again.
And if not fly, maybe just gliding... Anything would be better than
walking and pretending to be human. She was a bird-kid, after all.
does anyone really understand?
She took a deep breath then, letting herself fall forwards into the
abyss below her. The wind whistled past her ears, and her hair
whipped back. She felt her adrenaline pick up, and she smiled.
She adjusted her feather, pulling gently out of her fall. They held.
At least they had resocketed. She allowed herself one wing
stroke, and her wings obeyed easily. She had to stop herself
from crying out in exhuberation. Dakota pulled her wings
forward, giving a strong stroke, and picked up speed. Any person
below would see a large bird, but any Eraser or bird-kid would
see a familiar white-winged figure flying again.
we're looking for some action
Sometimes it takes stepping into another person's shoes to truly
understand pain. Dakota had faced many problems in her life,
looked death in the face only to be revived, but never to the
extremeties that she had gone through the past eight months.
Humans. They took for granted how easy that they had it, how
life could be so carefree and happy. Sure, they faced many
problems, but most didn't have to worry about being killed every
day. And she was jealous of them. They didn't know what it was
like to have every freedom one could ever have, then have it
ripped away. They didn't know the absolute exhilaration of flying,
but maybe that was for the better. It was hard to deal without it.
without a leg to stand on
Quite a while back, Dakota went through Hell. She was flying in a
bad storm, an attempt to escape an Eraser hot on her trail, when
it happened. She had gotten a good lead on him, but instead of
slowing like she should have and taken cover, she sped up and
flew through the forest at dangerous speeds for even the best of
weather. Her wings were soaked, making the matters of flight
difficult, but she paid no mind. All she could focus on was going
faster, escaping from the torture she had so long endured. Once
she had wanted to die, to be killed in a battle and rest in peace.
Now, the wish for the sweet release of death was present in her
mind. But she knew that if she did die, they would bring her back
to life. She had to get as far away from this place as possible.
they're reaching out every day
Even bird-kids are not as fast as lightning. It struck the tree not
ten feet ahead of her, sparking it into flames like kindling. The
rain, supressed by the thick foilage, did nothing to stop it's quick
combustion, and Dakota only had one choice at the speeds she
was traveling. She tucked her wings and barreled through the
fire, feeling lick at her hair, her feathers, smoldering everything
that wasn't already drentched, and catching fire to the underside
of her flight feathers. She finally came out of the heat, crying out
at the pain wretching through her body. Only when alone would
such a sound come from her, showing truly the pain that she
could conceal at an instant. The rain couldn't put out the flames
here, and she struggled to get above and into the downpour.
we all like to stare
Panicked as she was, she wasn't ready for the gusts of wind
when she broke free of the trees. She didn't realize how far she
had traveled from the outskirts of the storm and into it's more
powerful, tornado like winds. The wind tore her wings from their
sockets like paper, a bird-like cry escaping Dakota's lips, before
she was thrown towards a large tree at frightening speeds. She
had two choices now. Hit it head on, snapping her neck and--
hopefully--killing her instantly, or rotating and using her wings to
try and lessen to blow. At this point, she wasn't ready to face
death, and she managed to get her wings in front of her as she
hit the tree at speeds nearing close to a hundred miles an hour.
and pretend that we care
How long it was before she woke up, she could not tell you, nor
where she had finally fallen in that torrent of the storm. She was
to come-to completely dry in a small clearing in the forest. Her all
so delicate flight feathers were black with soot. Dakota stood,
though it took several failed attempts before she could, but
something felt off. Her wings, usually following the path of her
shoulder blades, hung limp at her sides. That was when the pain
erupted. Her wings were shattered and burned. At that split
second, she feared that she would never fly again. She tore at
one of her pain legs, already fairly shredded, and made a sort of
bandage. Ignoring the pain, she folded her wings into the tight-
ened position on her back and tied them both into a sling...
how can we keep doing nothing?
For how long after, she could not tell. Days blended to weeks,
weeks to months... Whether months had changed to years, she
wouldn't care. Her wings remained on her back, only moving to
change the slings, and she lived amongst the humans. The bird-
kid scent must have been oppressed, because avian-hybrids nor
Erasers bothered her as she went through the streets. At one
point in time, this would have bee Heaven. But without her wings
life was a dull blur. At nights she would dream of falling, but she
had nothing to stop her date with the cold concrete below. Every-
day, she put off trying to outstretch her wings. She was scared
that they were broken beyond repair, and that it would be the
end of her last fringe of sanity to lose her one grip of faith.
can anybody hear me?
Now, she stood atop of a rooftop. Once, this was where she p
lanned to put her base if she ever went through with her
agreement with Jetta. It was the highest building of this portion
of the city, condemned as the "official" roof was. Her she stood,
giving the fierce war cry of a hawk. Anybody down below would
assume it was just an angry bird, but it was much more than
that. Today, she was done hiding. Maybe insanity had finally
taken its grip, but she wasn't going to let anything stop her now.
Flying was her escape once, but now it was her path. She could
not bare to sit around and do nothing anymore. It was time she
helped all that she could, or die trying. If she couldn't fly, she
would run. She would try to be the best flock leaer she could be.
any anybody see me?
She carefully released her make-shift sling, letting it fall from the
roof like drifting feather. Dakota slowly flexed the tips of her flight
feathers. So far so good. Her angel white wings stretched out in
a single fluid motion, throwing a shadow over her. They didn't
hurt, but that didn't necassarily mean they set correctly. Still, she
couldn't help but let a smile cross her face. All this time without
flight, she might be able to take to the skies again. Would it be
possible, could it be true? She had no idea, but she had to try.
Her wings would be sore, but she could possibly fly once again.
And if not fly, maybe just gliding... Anything would be better than
walking and pretending to be human. She was a bird-kid, after all.
does anyone really understand?
She took a deep breath then, letting herself fall forwards into the
abyss below her. The wind whistled past her ears, and her hair
whipped back. She felt her adrenaline pick up, and she smiled.
She adjusted her feather, pulling gently out of her fall. They held.
At least they had resocketed. She allowed herself one wing
stroke, and her wings obeyed easily. She had to stop herself
from crying out in exhuberation. Dakota pulled her wings
forward, giving a strong stroke, and picked up speed. Any person
below would see a large bird, but any Eraser or bird-kid would
see a familiar white-winged figure flying again.
we're looking for some action