Birds of a Feather

[MidnaPhobia]

The time was nearing two, maybe three hours since the sun had set, eight o’clock she believed the humans called it, or very near to in one of the months during the middle of winter. It was cold, one of those days where your breath turned to mist in the air and frost covered the grass, or at least the small stirps alongside the paths of the large city. Clouds covered the moon, what little of it there was, and those clouds were dark and ominous. A burst of lightning and a crack of thunder peeled across the night sky, before the heavens opened and rain, a freezing cold rain, began pouring down.

It was as if heaven itself were angry, and, considering the events that had just transpired, there was a good chance it was. It was true that god wasn’t overly fond of the angels that had descended to earth and bred with humans, creating creatures called nephlim that he wasn't apparently overly fond of either, but still it was always expected he be angry when something would dare to attack one of his grand children, it was things like this that caused natural disasters to occur. No doubt the freezing rain would come for several days after this.

The incident in question, had been an attack on a nephilim, she had been shot, but had managed to escape immediate threat by taking to the sky. Pain shot through the girl’s body and she didn't manage to get far before she plummeted to the ground, a fall that would have killed the unlucky. Ferin, however, had this strange habit of being ridiculously lucky. The fall didn’t kill her, though it did hurt like... well hell, and she heard a concerning snap. Lying on the ground, on the side of the road in pain the girl groaned and struggled for a few moment, slowly pushing herself off the gravel.

She couldn’t afford to stop. Her right wing, usually a beautiful golden colour in the sun, hung limply at her side, broken, useless. Her right arm also hung limp, blood seeping onto her shirt from the bullet wound to the shoulder. She looked around, spotting a shadow across the road and retreated a few hasty steps, limping slightly and letting out a gasp in pain. She felt cold, and was shivering in the rain, and she tried to evaluate how big of a threat they might be, whether she should run or try to stay and... fight? God she was an awful fighter.

Name: Ferin Bayer
Age: 583 (Appears 17)
Species: Nephilim (angel x human spawn)
Appearance:

[Matxin gartza]

Talon Gnawed on the chicken leg morosely. Harpies had come late to fire, and the novelty value of cooked food was still new and exciting enough for Tal to enjoy eating what basically amounted to a distant cousin. He mused on this for a while, picking lumps of . If he had chicks -Not that he was ever planning to, thank god- They'd probably end u more human then anything, eating birdmeats and shaving off feathers and clipping the talons. Eh, Progress. He shrugged and tore off a bit of meat near the bone, digging it out absentmindedly with thumbspike. He tossed the bone back into the bucket, before washing his hands with soap in the bathroom. (Tal's a traditionalist, but he isn't stupid.) He decided to take a walk.

He opened the door to his little apartmentette, and walked down the stairs. the grey, artificial lights that illuminated the communal bit between apartments fickered on and off as he passed. He buzzed open the door, and let himself out. The sun was just setting, Tal knew, just behind those massive rainy clouds that covered the hemisphere from west to east. An elf and a dwarf, both wearing dirty great macs and sharing an umbrella and a fag, were sitting hunched on a bench. Tal walked the other way, not minding so much about the rain. Lightning didn't really scare him that much. He walked off.

Tal found himself in an afluent part of the city when he found her. Nice, small houses, with frackin' gardens and everything. Tal's first though was that she'd jumped, but then he dismissed that thought as silly. Jumpers tended to have a place to jump from. As he watched from across the road, she curled up and slouched upright. "Shot?" he wondered, before the figure lurched upright and shot him a look that could cut steel at twenty paces. He waved an open hand, in the universal gesture of armlessness. She was either an elf or a were- Lycanthrope, he reasoned. Humans don't walk away from a wound like that. He looked down at where she'd been. The blood hadn't had enough time to mix in with the water, and Tal could see that it was a fair bit. Four pints or so. That was about as much as he had in his entire chest at any one time. Tal looked back at the blurry figure.

"You alright, love?" He called out to her.

[MidnaPhobia]

Ferin looked hesitantly to the man as he raised his hands to show them empty, clearly trying to display that he had no intention of hurting her. Chances were he was scared she may hurt him. There was a lot of blood around... it also gave her wonder as to whether he knew what she was or not. Her wings weren’t visible to mortal eyes, not unless she wanted them to be. But to the supernatural and immortal, they were never hidden, their eyes always saw the truth. Meaning this person could potentially see the left wing as it twitched by her side nervously.

Looking at him, Ferin tried to gauge how much of a threat he was once more. She tried to see the intentions hidden deep within his heart. She couldn’t feel evil radiating from him, meaning he was not hellish, but neither could she see a holiness to him, meaning he was just a regular guy as far as souls went. So she decided she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. She shook her head slightly, her sopping wet hair flicking water droplets onto the ground. The girl’s knees shook and she slowly sank to the ground, groaning again.

She felt weak, worryingly weak. Her vision was starting to fade and she doubted she’d get very far and live. Still, how was she meant to respond to that question? It felt wrong to ask a stranger to help her, not to mention she was still slightly fearful of the outcome. “Not really.” She managed to reply. Her voice was, despite the shake from the cold and weakness, incredibly sweet and angelic, soft and gentle. To her she just sounded really awkward, like she didn't know how to respond, because she didn't. “I... I was attacked.” She shifted slightly, so she was sitting with her back against the post beside her, using it to prop her up.

“I’ll be alright though.” She muttered softly, much more softly than she’d intended. It had meant to come out loud enough for him to hear, she doubted he would have over the heavy rain. “I will be alright.” She repeated, this time more to herself as her eyes slid closed. It wasn't unconsciousness, but it was exhaustion. It was a concerning feeling, knowing if she slipped away too far she may not come back. Still, perhaps heaven would be a nice escape from him place; this world of pain and fear and trial.