Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
Emea
1st of Zi'da, 717
1st of Zi'da, 717
- So many questions.
Too many opinions.
Soft voices stirred her and she cursed under her breath, blue eyes opening to stare into the clean shaven face of a man holding a folder of notes. He was looking down at his arms, scribbling notes rapidly upon the paper, too distracted to realize her awakening. Navyri hadn’t wanted to fall asleep, and scowled in disgust when she felt his hands touch a part of plumage that had been poking through the metal bars. Jolting to her feet, she startled the man and tried to claw at him through the cage, “Don’t touch me!”
Pulling deeper into the enclosure, she straightened and pulled her wings close to back and glared at the other two whispering in the corner, “Subject appears to show abrupt aggression upon contact…” The partner nodded.
“Not uncommon in either race. I’m telling you - halfbreed.”
“Naer always birth Naer…Naer don’t have wings.”
“How do we know… According to legends!... Stories…”
“...Gravokian…Augiery…” One waved animatedly in her direction, “Tattoos… We’ve seen…”
The man who had tried to pet her was circling the jail and she tried to follow him, refusing to show her back to the scientist. He did not seem disappointed by this, but interested, writing more and muttering to himself. Finally, he looked up, "You're a very fascinating subject. Are you the first of your kind?"
The walls began to bleed, melting away like hot wax and puddling to the floor, the room being replaced and the men fading to nothingness. Around her the world brightened and she had to lift a hand to shield her eyes, grimacing at the change of atmosphere. Tall windows and rows of seats faced her, yet she was still caged. A crowd gawked at her, some in horror, others in interest. A voice boomed an announcement overhead, "The First Winged Naer! A Shadow in the Sky! Behold!"
Something sharp poked her in the back of her thigh and she whipped around, wings flaring and the crowd crying out in awe. Such beauty! Such power! Trapped, the dark hair woman prowled, her stomach clenching, "Let me go," she growled, grabbing the bars and resisting a snarl. "Or I'll gut you alive." No matter how she protested, they discarded her desires. Her foreign tongue fell on ignorant ears, and they chatted in their common, but her mouth wouldn't form the words in a language they could understand. A caged bird, or a trapped darkness, she was an attraction - a means to make money that would never touch her hands.
That was perhaps the most frustrating thing of all, and so the woman waited to make them pay.
They always paid.