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+---- Thread: [P] And We Shall Make Angels (/showthread.php?tid=4433)
And We Shall Make Angels - Emersyn - 12-24-2019
The sun rises to reveal the gray standing at the top of the highest cliff and facing the world sprawled out beneath her. At first she is hard to spot from a distance, but when the wind claws apart her braid and scatters her piano-striped hair in the air, it is obvious that someone, with no wings, is standing at the edge of death. Or not, but Emersyn would know if she were immortal, the heart in her chest wants to escape her. It knows that the soldier is fearless, but is she really if the ticking of her heart speeds, then slows, only to be swept up again.
Wolves are brave because they never escape their death, they face it.
Emersyn’s lip curls in mild disgust at remembering her father’s words. The heat of his memory is what makes her inch forward. A pebble tumbles off the ledge but it takes a long-long time before Emersyn hears it hit anything. As if to exaggerate the distance from this ground to the one several hundreds of feet below her, she never hears the stone hit the bottom. A chill races down her spine and her mouth has gone dry.
Shit.
A lock of white hair tangles itself up in her eyelashes and hangs off the corners of her tightened expression. She knows it is time, Rûwach (Rucha) awaits her, and the sheet of canvas is already coming undone like her braid. With her hair down, she doesn’t seem so serious .. and she hates that the most about the wind. Perhaps learning to evade death will shift her perspective of it entirely, she wonders.
The wings, enchanted by the decayed remains of magic, flaps and grabs around for a way out of the canvas sack the moment Emersyn’s mind focuses on them. Made sentient by some gold-lined miracle, the wings are of an impressive design. Nothing like it could ever be copied, and are such a strange and wondrous masterpiece that it takes Emersyn no time to name them. Rûwach, the language is as old as time and the wings respond to it like a spell. It is the very first name that the sound of air was ever given. The moment is sacred for her and her creation, akin to when the painter names a canvas.
The wings reach out and grope around like the eyeless things they are. They too have never flown before and Emersyn believes that the way they flatten themselves against the rocks and cling to the ground with their fingers that Rûwach might be afraid of heights. Nonsense, Emersyn snorts at even thinking such a ludacris thought. The only reason they tighten against the rocks is because the mad scientist that built them doesn't want them to fly away. Emersyn will only remember that much later, for her mind is only moving forward right now.
“Rûwach! To me!”
They don't move, she doesn't want to lose them in the gusts.
Wind turns a rock over (or does she want to see what the wind will do to it?). As it is blown off of the canvas bag it goes off into the air like some kind of smoke, it is gone before she even blinks. The wings don’t budge, the leather buckles remain clasped, no sign of life within them. It is her anger that pushes the enchantment beyond reach, beyond her control.
It is her deeply rooted anger that reminds her not to be so impatient and commanding. Especially with an object that appears to have selective inananimosity towards her. If it will not listen to her, she will have to manipulate it to.
She will learn, however, that if Rûwach is to do what it she intended for them to do, then things will go a lot more swimmingly if it can meet more of Emersyn’s demands. Unfortunately, it is her own temper that is key to success. And that, is something the soldier never calculated in the final plans of the Icarus Project. Feelings of Empathy. Exposure to vulnerabilities. The Fall. She had avoided it, all of it. Now she can't.
“I am afraid of heights.” Emersyn finally admits to her creation after some time, “and .. I should not be afraid of heights,” and? “, this is why I need you. You are a part of me now, do you understand? You cannot be afraid of heights too. For fuck’s sake you are a pair of wings!” Rûwach does not understand. Rûwach is just a thing. It takes only one thread of magic sewn into the hem of a wing to make it fly, but to make it sing and dance requires an entire tapestry of threads.
Emersyn doesn’t know that though, and argues with it before it snaps her in the ankle with a buckle. She suspects it is retaliation for her harsh words, but in truth the wind is picking up with every rising decibel in her voice. When all else fails, she switches to Mission 0.
“I’m jumping, then. You do what you want.”
She only waits a millisecond before turning back towards the cliff’s edge, she doesn’t look back anymore.
It is a mighty leap off the edge of the cliff, her mind is empty when she does it. It is impossible to think of anything with all the wind and air that rushes through her violently. It steals her thoughts away, it takes them. It is only about mid-way down that her grip on reality sharpens again after the shock of the fall wears off. All she can do is look down and try to blink the burning ozone out of her eyes as the wind makes her lips flap comically.
The harness is not far behind, because Emersyn can now think of only one thing, not falling - falling is a terrible thing and she would prefer not to paint the doorstep of Terrastella with the guts of the Dawn Emissary. They might take it too personally. She falls fast but the harness falls faster, perhaps Magic just holds that kind of weight in the world when the world really depends on it. It wraps around her quickly like a tight, loving hug. Quickly, the wings snap wide and gather thousands of pounds of wind pressure within their boughs as rapidly as they can. Later, Emersyn would transcribe that the friction of falling is similar to being bathed in fire, or being dragged along stones and broken glass.
The soldier slows dramatically with a punctuated snap leather against her chest. It wrenches the air out of her lungs, it ties her guts up, it whip her head back due to its design. It already blackens her chest and neck with bruising that will take weeks to heal. Wounds well deserved, she sighs inwardly and closes her eyes to lazily drift away.
Rûwach floats on slowly, riding vapors along the cotton candy colored sky because the rider is too dazzled to think about what else they could be doing. Her tail is stiff with fear, her hair pinstriping the air above her in silky curling sheets like some goddess descending. As beautiful as she is, Shit, is all she can think inside of her mind, it is such a wild feeling that refuses to settle in her chest. The rush leaves every bone in her body loose and jittery like rubber. The blood in her ears burns as if she’s just kissed the sun with them. The air smells different this high off of the ground.
Shit.
Together they fall, just not as dramatically as before and certainly not to her death. Emersyn tilts in the harness when she can finally balance herself, but the impact of suddenly hitting something solid is a first lesson that will never be forgotten. It happens faster than she can ready herself for it. The wings naturally fold in but Emersyn doesn't fold in. A tree catches her like a net, then promptly discards her. It shows no remorse as the gray horse drops straight down into the dirt. Thankfully the drop is not too far and the ground is very soft.
With a howl she lands on her knees, her stomach wants to invert itself. And she wants to use every word in her own language that is more colorful than the stripes of blood streaking her knees - but does not. Instead she remains huddled on the ground, clutching her body together for fear of it rattling apart with nerves, the wings on her back swaying softly, mirroring the way the ache in her body feels.
@Liam
Yup, that ran away with me.
RE: And We Shall Make Angels - Liam - 12-29-2019
The previous land he’d been in was flat, tucked in nicely against the sea, quiet and unassuming in its beauty. The new land he was exploring was quite the opposite. Cliffs raised above the sea, which was raging below, crashing and slamming into the face of the cliffs, swirling into white waters of anger. Liam peered down at the water, faintly remembering how he'd broken Bucky of his brainwashing and then fallen into the raging waters of the river that'd been crashing beneath them. He'd nearly drowned, but he woke up on the beach of the river, alone. Once he returned home - where he was taken into custody for questioning - he found that there was a very familiar set of teeth impressions on the crest of his neck.
Just thinking about it now sent shivers down his spine. Delightful shivers, shivers that spread into pleasure. Memorable nights followed once he'd found Bucky again, memories that he cherished.
A deep breath was taken in as Liam swished his tail behind him, an ear flicking as he turned, blue eyes turning skyward for a moment. The sun had risen, and the clouds still hung in the sky, heavily pregnant with moisture that had not yet fallen, had not yet graced the land with the snowfall or whatever it decided to be for the day. Rolling his eyes at himself, Liam moves forward, looking around at the surrounding area. He was still so new to the area and he hated it. It was nice, don't get him wrong. It gave him the ability to essentially reinvent himself, but he was still that same horse, deep down. The one that was reckless, the one that jumped off cliffs and out of high windows, the one that scared Bucky more times than one because of how reckless he could be.
A small smile appeared on his lips at how freaked out Bucky had been the one time he'd witnessed Liam do something reckless. The chestnut stallion had rushed into a burning building - one that was completely crashing down - to rescue a foal that had been scared and stranded. The great captain had escaped virtually unharmed - just a few singed parts of his coat, mane, and tail. Oh, Bucky hadn't let him live that down for weeks. It'd been worth it; the foal and her mother had been reunited and the last Liam had heard, the foal had grown up and gotten married.
During this period of quiet reflection, a form in the distance catches Liam's attention, his eyes squinting as he hastened his pace into a quick trot, tail arching behind him as he tries to close the distance between himself and the figure. From where he was, he couldn't tell whether it was a mare or another stallion, but he saw that the form was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to dive off it. Nostrils flare as he tries to get the other's scent, but the breeze skirts around him, taking with it the scent of Emersyn.
Ears pin tightly as he watches something come out from the other's sides. They don't seem natural, and for a moment, Liam is worried that he has to deal with another god or alien, something that was going to try and destroy his world like previously. The horse called out suddenly, and Liam broke into a canter, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to cover the ground between the two of them. The stallion thought about calling out to the person, trying to stop them, but no words came to his lips, none escaped his vocal cords.
She then called out to something - or someone.
Who?
There is still so much distance between the two of them; how would Liam even get to her in time? Was she truly going to step off and end her life? Panic set into the stallion's mind and he picked his pace up into a slow gallop, muscles rippling under his copper coat, which gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. It wasn't even that warm out, but the fear and panic he was feeling caused excerbation of the sweating.
....jumping, then.
That is all Liam can hear with the wind starting to whip around him and he flattens his ears around his head as he lunges forward, strides lengthening. He needed to reach the mare before she-
Oh.
Liam's stomach lurched into his throat as he watched the mare step off the cliff, his eyes widening in horror as he skidded to a stop at the edge of the cliff. Horrified blue eyes watched as the mare fell rapidly toward the ground, panic and nausea rising in the back of his throat.
Frantically, he looked around for a quick way down before spotting a break: a path leading down to the flat ground below. Carefully - but quickly - he climbed down, ignoring the way that his limbs ache and jolt in pain whenever he steps in a hole or slams his hooves down on a particularly sharp rock. It was an adventure, scrambling down the cliff face. But he'd continue to do it if it meant that he could potentially save someone's life. Though, to be fair, he had failed in stopping the mare from walking right off that cliff.
Hadn't he done the same thing to Bucky? Hadn't he done this very same act in an attempt to end his own life not too long ago? Hadn't he put Bucky through this miserable experience? They always did say that karma had a way of rounding back around and biting you in the ass.
Finally, he makes it to the flat ground, having completely missed the mare landing safely, even though she'd landed on her knees. A sharp breath is exhaled through flared nostrils and he canters up to the mare, ears pinned against his head as he gives her a quick once-over, blue eyes sharp and calculating, though there was a softness and worry there.
"What were you thinking?" He scolds gently, carefully rounding her where she stood, anger flaring through him, quickly soothed by worry for the mare that he'd literally just watched step off a cliff to certain death. Suddenly, a realization came to him. It was certainly eye-opening.
Was this what Bucky meant when he said that Liam was reckless?
Oh.
Shaking his head from his thoughts, he looked down at the mare, clicking his tongue as he looked at her bleeding knees, worry for her flaring through him and bleeding into his words. "Miss, do you need help? Can you make it to where I can patch these wounds?"
Notes;; Oh god, the word vomit happened <3
Tag;; @Emersyn
Voice Claim: Chris Evans
Words;; 1154
by masking it with a cause
RE: And We Shall Make Angels - Emersyn - 01-06-2020
Hello, hello, hello, beautiful stranger,
how familiar the danger,
slipping into the shadows.
She must be high from all the adrenaline and air rushing through her, teasing her of Death but never giving it to her. Instead, chance delivers her to her knees in the bushes of Terrastella, her wings a ruckus as they reach out and slowly fold back in. Laughter finds her, she laughs like a mad man at the thrill of her creation coming to life. Coming to her aid. Flying ! It is an exhilarating sensation, to know that one can now defy gravity, even if they were born to be flightless, grounded, stable.
Emersyn is torn between tears of laughing joy and tears of aggravation over how destroyed her knees are. Just as she draws her own focus on them, someone else busts out from the bushes and makes their way to her. Almost at once he begins fretting over her, a real hen of a horse, Emersyn's blue eyes narrow. " Why are you so polite? What do you want?" She hears herself asking, impatiently, if only because he is crushing her vibe with his kindness. "No, I do not want bandages, thank you."
But .. did he happen to see -
And because she cannot accept that she was the only one who witnessed herself jumping off a cliff and defying her death, she has to ask. " Did you see what just happened? My creation, it worked. I flew. I was flying." She is still dazzled. In no other incarnation, would Emersyn seem so gleeful, so charmed, nor would her smile be so beautiful and easy to look at.
Proudly, a set of wings spread out in display, the woman's hair flips from white to black in the wind that combs its way through the beach side. "Ouch," the word slips out when she tries to shift to her feet and is winded by the pain that relents for her to stay down. "I think I need to stay right here. Not much of a choice at this time." Emersyn winces as her joints groan in the way of prickling and fiery damaged nerves. Every time the wind blows, it sets her wounds on fire.
"What is your name stranger? Mine is Emersyn."
~~~
@Liam <3