[indent][color=gray][i][color=white]“Haaaveeen.”[/color]

His voice crawls up her spine, passing through the patch of feathers on her back, and digs itself into the soft spot at the base of her skull. Her muscles tense and lock into place, expression twisting into a wince, and she tilts her head in an attempt to free herself of the feeling. It’s no use. He calls her name again, and this time his voice digs into the joints between her shoulder blades. Pain blossoms there, like a festering wound, and her shoulders shift against it. No matter how she twists, the movement does nothing to ease the ache.

She’s helpless against this torture. Suspended in the dark as he does what he wishes. The futility of it weighs heavily on her chest with each poke and prod.

She stands alone in the center of a large room lit only by flickers of starlight in the night sky that shine through a gaping hole in a metal roof. [/i]He[i] calls her name over and over. Lovingly, at first, beginning as simple as a gentle caress along her cheek, and then building more malicious with each touch. His voice snarls by the end, saliva dripping from his lips that splatters against her cheek as she feels his hands rake themselves through her plumage. Feathers pull loose between his knuckles and fall to the ground around her feet. She endures it with fists clenched tightly at her sides.

There’s a glimpse of a twisted smile in the darkness, but when she blinks it’s gone.

Another voice chimes in just when she thinks the torture is over. This one is low and grumbling. It reverberates throughout her bones with the two syllables it speaks.

[color=white][b]“Mother.”[/b][/color]

A desperation fills her now. She wants to run. To hide from the monster that calls her kin. Her body strains itself, and yet her feet are planted firmly in place. She can’t move. Her very being is frozen by fear that grips her heart and squeezes it until it shrivels within her chest.

Screams follow the name given to her. The agonized cry of her lover in pain. She won’t reach him. The wails of a woman, of a [/i]friend[i], in distress. There’s nothing she can do to ease the suffering. Horrified shouts come from the crowd within the dark.

Voices she recognizes, and voices she doesn’t.

The sound of bone snapping and sinew tearing fills the space above her, and suddenly crimson ichor falls from the sky to drench her where she stands. She nearly drowns in it. As the downpour subsides she’s left gasping. The air that fills her throat is thick and muggy in her lungs, and it leaves a metallic taste on her tongue.

She knows who the blood belongs to.

The monster speaks again, and this time the voice is closer to her.

[color=white][b]“Mother.”[/b][/color]

Her eyes go wide and wildly search the darkness in front of her. Her heart beats a ferocious rhythm, threatening to burst from her chest, until she sees it. Glowing, red orbs glare at her from the dark.

Her heart stops. 

The outline of a horned brow is illuminated as it steps into the light. Its grey skin is stretched taut over its enormous body. Batlike wings rise behind it as if to mock her blood. [/i]Her[i] blood. Frigid air puffs from its flared nostrils as it stalks closer and closer.

Its skeletal fingers emerge from the dark and reach for her, and something within her fractures. Her arms go limp at her sides, because she knows what happens once it touches her. She knows the pain that it causes. How it leaves her a shell of who she was before.

A single tear draws a line through the blood on her cheek.

There’s nothing she can do as those fingers cradle her skull and tilt her head up to look into–
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[center][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/003eoIwxETJujVWmNFMoZy?si=FIS2B3vCR8Gmi99hHPERcQ][img]https://i.imgur.com/ndfIoDS.jpeg[/img][/url][/center]
[COLOR=tan][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=SILVER][I]Home - Debolt, Alberta, Canada
[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b] Human: #5.049 [/B][COLOR=SILVER][I]Growing Vanes[/I][/COLOR][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][B]Interaction(s):[/B] [COLOR=SILVER][I]N/A[/I][/COLOR][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [COLOR=SILVER][I]Place to Nest[/I][/COLOR][/right][/SUP][/INDENT][/COLOR]

[indent][color=gray]A shuddering gasp escapes from Haven’s throat as she awakens with a jolt. She shoves herself upright, feet kicking the blankets off of her legs to free herself of any pressure against her skin, and she whines as her hands reach for her head. Her eyes are wide, but they are blind with terror. She’s still stuck in that room. Phantom fingers still clutch her skull where she presses her palms against the sides of her jaw. She feels the fear, the hopelessness, and the desperation all at once.

Sweat coats the t-shirt she wears at the center of her back and chest, and her hands are clammy against her face. Her baby hairs are stuck to her temples with sweat. Every part of her [i]burns[/i]. Her back aches as if the injury had just happened. She needs air. She needs to breathe.

She flings herself out of bed and heads for the closest exit in their cabin. Her bare feet stumble past the boots she left by the bed, forgetting she had even placed them there in case of times like this. She releases the hold on her head only to palm the door, one hand sliding down until it reaches the lock. Fingers fumble for a moment until it turns, and she yanks the door open carelessly. Too consumed by the torment within to notice if her partner had woken up to her outburst, she pushes against the screen door until it allows her enough space to step past it.

The air outside is crisp and blissfully cold against her skin as she steps out onto the portico. The screen door knocks against the frame, but she’s already stepping out into the openness of the forest by the time it comes to a stop.

The ground beneath her bare feet is damp and cold. The detritus is familiar to her toes. The forest around her is quiet except for the rustling of leaves in the branches above. She walks away from the cabin, past the shed, and into the darkness of the night. Her feet slow to a stop about ten yards from the perimeter of their new home, and she falls to her hands and knees.

Her breath finally comes in ragged waves as she feels the tightness in her chest loosen. She stares into the fallen leaves beneath her until tears blur the vibrant colors together. She sobs once, for the pain in her back and the terror of her nightmare, and then again for the loss of her wings and for the suffering those closest to her endured that night.

She’s lost to her grief among the trees, until the aching intensifies. Her breath hitches in her chest. Teeth grit together, brows furrowed in a grimace, and her hands grab the leaves beneath them and squeeze the foliage between closed fists. Her body tenses and trembles as she tries to get some semblance of control of it, and she gasps as it overwhelms her.

It feels like the skin on her back is stretching past its limit. The muscles underneath flex, tearing at the center and spreading until her entire back is aflame. She feels it creeping into her shoulders, neck, arms, ass, and legs. All the way to her toes and fingertips. The pain is familiar, and yet it’s entirely new. A shrill whine fills the silence of the forest as she feels her nubs pop. It takes all of her willpower not to faint from the sudden nausea it brings.

She [i]knows[/i] this sensation. She’s felt it before. It’s as if months of growth have been crammed into minutes.

The burning. The aching. The stretching of bone and sinew. It wasn’t a symptom of her trauma, nor was it the healing pains.

It had been growing pains, all along, and somehow it all built up to this moment.

All of it reaches a crescendo, and when she feels the edges of her vision going black and truly thinks she’ll lose consciousness, the flame flickers out. She breathes a heavy sigh of relief as the temperature of her skin drops with it. Her head hangs between her arms while the sensation fades into a dull throb in her muscles. The nausea subsides, and she takes a few deep breaths as she’s overcome with exhaustion instead.

Disappointment slowly sets in as she realizes her back is not as heavy as it should be.

She pushes her upper body away from the ground until she sits against her heels. Her hands grip the bottom of her oversized t-shirt, slowly tugging the damp material off of her full hips and up her short torso. Her shoulders throb as she pulls it up and over her head. Her upper body is fully exposed to the night air as she sets her shirt down in her lap.

Her hands rub at her sides, working their way up to her pectorals, and then to her shoulders. She closes her eyes as she works on her neck first, and slowly, slowly pushes her hands down her spine until they brush against the softness of her feathers. Her fingers flex, reaching for the base of her joints.

She explores further, and what she feels between her fingers makes her laugh.

It’s self-deprecating in its nature. It brings on more tears that trail into her sweaty hair as she looks up at the starlight peeking through the treeline above her. The sound is similar to a laugh she heard recently. A trill utterance from a woman with three names. It’s madness, it’s sardonic, it’s sorrow and joy combined, it’s borderline hysteria… but Haven couldn’t care less how it sounded to the trees.

[i]He[/i] took her wings. The monster ripped them from her body. She [i]survived[/i], and though she still feared that Deadalus would find her no matter how far she hid within the mountains, she was still breathing…

And her wings were growing back.

What once had been nubs of flesh and downy feathers, remnants of her beautiful tawny wings that stretched taller than a man on each end, now settled against her back as adolescent organs of flight. She unfurled them as she tested the muscles that had rapidly grown. Everything seemed to be in working order. The tips barely reach her elbows, but size didn’t matter to Haven now. She was sure that they were beautiful, and she was equally sure that they would continue to grow.

Relief etches itself onto her features, and she closes her eyes and basks in the moonlight. The forest seems to return to its normal hush now. The gentle breeze caresses her skin and feathers as she feels a sense of calm pass over her. She’s tempted to remain there for a while, in the peacefulness between the trees, but her mind drifts back to the cabin. She remembers how she left the backdoor open. How she left without a word, and without her boots. She thinks of her partner, and is suddenly overcome with a need to go to him.

She takes a breath, relishing the cold air in her lungs, then slowly rises as she clutches her shirt to her chest. She turns, her bare feet traveling over the leaves. They step back onto the path that connects the shed to the cabin, and to her home. The fire needs tending, and Rory definitely needs to know she’s okay, but at least she has something good to share with him.

They were both healing. They were going to be ok.
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