Lemons

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Three nights ago

Mal clung to the rock, gulping in breath after harsh, ragged breath. The pounding rains left the stones slick with rainwater, and her palms grasped onto the wet surface as though it was the only thing keeping her alive. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut. She thought she might be sick, a thought followed all-too-abruptly by her retching, vomiting up bile and whatever was left of her last malnutritious meal at the Chimera facility.

She didn't think she could hear anything following them, but her ears remained strained, desperately trying to make some kind of sense out of every sound that made it to her through the storm. Was that just the wind bashing rain into the rocks? Or was it a helicopter in the distance? Was that faint distant light the headlights of a passing car, or a search party, already beginning to track them down? She was going out of her mind with fear and worry. Pressing her face into the stone, she screwed her eyes shut even tighter and pressed against whatever was left of a 'dry' surface under the shallow cavelike indentation.

Her wings were sopping wet, stretching out uncomfortably onto the rocks behind her, and yet she wasn't in the right enough mind to pull them back in. So they simply lay there.

"Please," she found herself whispering, and hating herself for it, "someone help me."

When she eventually fell asleep, it was as she was crying.

Present

Mal groaned as the early dawn light hit her in the face like a freight train, and she reflexively tossed an arm up over her head. "Go 'way," she moaned. The sun, however, did not go away, and was irritatingly persistent. Eventually, she accepted the fact that she probably wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore and lifted the arm, peering out from under it at the sun. "Nice to see you," she yawned, grinning a little. It had been a very...very...long time since she'd seen the sun. In person, not in a video or a simulation or a hallucination or something.

Her malaise had largely slackened off; she didn't have time to worry about what had happened, or what might happen, when she was busy trying to keep herself and her family alive. As she sat up, yawning and stretching her wings out just a bit, she heard Dizzy talking to Flick from a bit away, and stumbled over to them, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes and miserably failing. She was still wearing the dirty, torn hospital gown, simply because she had nothing else to wear, and she pulled at it in irritation. It certainly wasn't comfortable, though the massive jagged rips in the back to let her wings out had gone some way towards alleviating that issue. She flopped an arm and Rook in a halfhearted attempt at a wave as she walked.

"I think..." she paused, heaving a colossal yawn, "...I think we should head into that city. Just to a junkyard or something. All the videos and classes said that people have a lot of different kinds of clothes they wear. These," she plucked at the sleeve of the gown, this time not as angrily, to demonstrate, "won't cut it, I don't think."

"Also," she added (mostly towards Dizzy) as she suddenly felt the void in her stomach, "there's prob'ly food there. And I don't know about you, Flick, but I need it. The berries and things aren't enough."

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Name: Mal
Age: 16
Gender: Female
DNA: Ascension Frigatebird (Fregata aquila)

Personality: Mal, in an interesting twist, didn't entirely name herself. In fact, she based her name off of what the scientists at Chimera used to call her; malcontent, malicious, maladjusted. This speaks to her personality pretty strongly. She's...well, you could call her prickly. She's not one for staying quiet and not speaking her mind, and she makes it very clear to everyone exactly what she thinks of them. For the Flock especially. For them, it's her own little way of showing that she cares deeply about them, and wants them to be all that they can. For everyone else? That's how she takes out her anger. Or, well, tries to. It doesn't always work, and that has resulted in her being...pretty violent if someone sets her off. She's the principal hair-trigger of the group, always ready to go off on anybody that might get in her way, or her family's. And she does consider the Flock her family. She cares for them immensely, and despite being the youngest (tied with Dizzy), is fiercely protective of all of them. Just, well, that protection can manifest as "stop being such a baby and deal with it" a good majority of the time.

Appearance: Mal is on the shorter side for someone in the Flock. That being said, 'on the shorter side for someone in the Flock' still means she cracks six feet, ending up just a fraction of an inch under 6'1". Her skin is fair and spattered with freckles, and she sports a pair of stormy gray eyes framed by blonde hair that falls a little ways past her shoulders. She refuses to tie it up, insisting that it be hanging free at all times. Her height conspires with her light build (and massive caloric intake) to make her extremely slender. She's very flexible. As a general rule, she wears a white hoodie (though whether or not it's white anymore is debatable, since it doesn't get washed as often as it should) and tough denim jeans, as well as a pair of beaten-up boots shoplifted from a military surplus store when nobody was looking.

She bears a pair of huge gunmetal-gray wings. True to the nature of the frigatebird, her wings are enormous compared to her body, easily stretching over eighteen feet from tip to tip. Due to this, she's a master at gliding. She can go for miles upon miles without so much as a few flaps. Thus, once she's in the air—as long as there's no hurry—she can fly for a very long time. You'll notice I mentioned 'in a hurry.' That's because these wings, while fantastic for gliding, are fairly cumbersome to actually flap. She's quite a slow midair sprinter, and she needs a good long time to get into the air, relative to others; she definitely can't snap up there quick. Once she's up, though, she's not coming down.

Wing shape profile:


Other: It's worth mentioning that though she's never been to the ocean, she desperately wants to.

History: Mal was always a fighter. Back in Chimera, when she was taken for experiments, her poor, twig-thin undernourished self would fight tooth and nail to get away from the scientists, even breaking her own less-developed hollow bones on a few occasions. Because of his characteristic, despite looking quite a bit older than she really was, she was never sent off like Flick was; it was deemed too risky. She was insubordinate, and that made her dangerous. Makes her dangerous. On the whole, she hasn't changed much.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Name: Mal
Age: 16
Gender: Female
DNA: Ascension Frigatebird (Fregata aquila)

Personality: Mal, in an interesting twist, didn't entirely name herself. In fact, she based her name off of what the scientists at Chimera used to call her; malcontent, malicious, maladjusted. This speaks to her personality pretty strongly. She's...well, you could call her prickly. She's not one for staying quiet and not speaking her mind, and she makes it very clear to everyone exactly what she thinks of them. For the Flock especially. For them, it's her own little way of showing that she cares deeply about them, and wants them to be all that they can. For everyone else? That's how she takes out her anger. Or, well, tries to. It doesn't always work, and that has resulted in her being...pretty violent if someone sets her off. She's the principal hair-trigger of the group, always ready to go off on anybody that might get in her way, or her family's. And she does consider the Flock her family. She cares for them immensely, and despite not being the eldest, is very much protective of everyone in it, younger and older alike. Just, well, that protection can manifest as "stop being such a baby and deal with it" a good majority of the time.

Appearance: Mal is on the shorter side for someone in the Flock. That being said, 'on the shorter side for someone in the Flock' still means she cracks six feet, ending up just a fraction of an inch under 6'1". Her skin is fair and spattered with freckles, and she sports a pair of stormy gray eyes framed by blonde hair that falls a little ways past her shoulders. She refuses to tie it up, insisting that it be hanging free at all times. Her height conspires with her light build (and massive caloric intake) to make her extremely slender. She's very flexible. As a general rule, she wears a white hoodie (though whether or not it's white anymore is debatable, since it doesn't get washed as often as it should) and tough denim jeans, as well as a pair of beaten-up boots shoplifted from a military surplus store when nobody was looking.

She bears a pair of huge gunmetal-gray wings. True to the nature of the frigatebird, her wings are enormous compared to her body, easily stretching over eighteen feet from tip to tip. Due to this, she's a master at gliding. She can go for miles upon miles without so much as a few flaps. Thus, once she's in the air—as long as there's no hurry—she can fly for a very long time. You'll notice I mentioned 'in a hurry.' That's because these wings, while fantastic for gliding, are fairly cumbersome to actually flap. She's quite a slow midair sprinter, and she needs a good long time to get into the air, relative to others; she definitely can't snap up there quick. Once she's up, though, she's not coming down.

Other: It's worth mentioning that though she's never been to the ocean, she desperately wants to.

History: Mal was always a fighter. Back in Chimera, when she was taken for experiments, her poor, twig-thin undernourished self would fight tooth and nail to get away from the scientists, even breaking her own less-developed hollow bones on a few occasions. Because of his characteristic, despite looking quite a bit older than she really was, she was never sent off like Flick was; it was deemed too risky. She was insubordinate, and that made her dangerous. Makes her dangerous. On the whole, she hasn't changed much.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Oh shit you right.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

<Snipped quote by Altered Tundra>
No.

@Inkarnate

Yes.

Good ol' mad scientists, back at it again!

I already have a character planned and know exactly who she's going to be. I can't wait for this.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

I hate Zesty almost as much as I love him.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Etoile

---

Well, it seemed like at least for now, Etoile was pretty safe in regards to the Inquisitors. They (quite reasonably) seemed much more worried about imminent death via demon bird than taking her into custody, and for that, she was thankful. She didn't have time to be prideful in the situation she was in, and knew it. Oh, it most assuredly rankled her, but that took a backseat to trying to make sure her leg was okay and she was ready to do something silly.

Hiding behind the Inquisitors, she pulled out a strip of clean linen from one of a series of pouches that lined her belt, looking at it for a moment, then back down to her leg, and finally to her nonfunctional arm. "This is going to be rather awkward," she muttered, before attempting to bandage the wound. By the time she'd finished (having had to use her teeth and a single hand, as well as twisting her foot awkwardly to press down the linen on the floor so she could wrap it tightly enough), she'd seen three different people jump off of the barge, and grit her teeth through its grip on the bandage. No matter the circumstances, she wasn't one to be left behind while other people did the work for her. And, as it turned out, the wound wasn't as bad as she'd thought. Though it was painful, it was definitely no artery. The bandage was helping immensely. As long as she didn't do anything too crazy, like, say, jumping off of a barge, it would probably be fine. Which, of course, was exactly what she was about to do.

The cold logician in Etoile appeared to be asleep. She felt a little bit like she had a fever, actually. Flexing her leg and hoping it would take her through the jump, she walked over to the edge, testing the limb at the same time. It's amazing the difference a couple minutes and a bandage makes, she reflected. Then, with a little hop, she cleared the railing, flipping about it and ending in a cat hang against the side of the barge. Looking down at the twenty or so feet beneath her, she scouted for the best, most even place to land. Eventually deciding on one (pressed for time as she was), she took a deep breath and released her grip.

The wind rushing by her ears gave her a few seconds to appreciate just how high up she was before she thumped into the ground, absorbing the impact with her strong legs, falling into a deep crouch. She winced slightly. On one hand, it might've been a better idea to roll. On the other, she looked down at the barge track, covered as it was with rocks of varying levels of jagged and unpleasant, that's not something I want to try rolling on without an arm. Out in the depths of the forest, she could just barely see the torch-red hair of the oddly familiar girl, and above him he could see the gold-haired kid and the sliver-haired adult whose permanent job seemed to be keeping the kid in line. She rolled her eyes at the kid's tree-hopping theatrics (and at the fact that the older one didn't seem quite as acrobatic, given the shout) and began to pat herself down, making sure everything was still in place. Sword, mantle, belt, pouches, backpack, she ran through all of her essentials before setting off at a reasonable pace after the red-haired girl. Though it turned out that she wasn't the only one out there, as Etoile ran into the older-looking Thlecian woman that had initially spoken to her in the Eoldysseus, glaring slightly at her.

"Hello there, nice day, isn't it," she said dryly.

As she continued walking, her metal arm clanking uselessly by her side, her eyes narrowed. Whoever had started this whole mess was...irksome. Yes, that was a good work. She pulled her sabre from the sheath, using it to lop an irksome branch out of her way. While she wasn't particularly skilled with left-handed swordsmanship, she was good enough to be a threat. And that's what she wanted to be to whoever decided that demon birds was a good idea. Her leg twinged unpleasantly, and she winced, looking down midstride. Blood was starting to show on the outer layer of the bandage. She put the sword away, pressing a hand to it and closing her eyes, breathing deeply. Whatever was going to happen, it needed to happen quickly.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

I caught that passive-aggressive thumbs up in the OOC of another RP, Ink. Don't think I didn't.

Good ol' mad scientists, back at it again!

My god I'm not the only one who wants one of these?

I am absolutely 120% ready for this. Dunno if you'll get enough people, but I am in as hell.

And for my two cents, you could go either way with wings/not wings. Everyone having wings would make it easier to keep the group together for coherency, but having some people significantly more mobile and faster than others could also lead to a bunch of different dynamics. It's on you, I think.