Broken Limbs

The forest smelled nice. Damian knew that was an odd impression for one to have, but it was his first nevertheless. The forest carried the pleasant scents of old wood and pine; hickory and walnut; pine needles and maple leaves. This was why he wanted to run this district in the first place: to have this smell whenever he liked. The aroma was even more wonderful when gazing above it all. . . .

The district leader of Woodenway was standing on the edge of his doorway, gazing down at the grass below. It was a long way's down, but that's what he wanted: the perfect place to fly from. Once he could fly. He spared his eyes from the beautiful sight to partially glare at his midnight black wings (the boy was shirtless so that the wings were more free)-- they hadn't been growing much at all since the move. Of course, he hadn't been going out of his way for pain, either; it was unfortunately impractical while building such a structure. He couldn't get too carried away in the bliss when there was a task on-hand. Now that The Aviary was complete, though . . . what was to stop him?

He grinned once more at the sight below. My, what pretty trees. Made one want to jump off the edge right now and simply crash down into the surely-sharp branches.

"Oh, what the hell," he wiry grinned, spreading his arms wide like the wings he so-much desired and launching himself into the clear blue sky. Damian was able to enjoy the view for only a split second before gravity caught-up to him, sending him plummeting down below and into the forest of trees. Disturbing crack-ing noises could be heard by anyone passing-by the house.

Damian lied on the forest floor, grinning wildly. His legs were broken. Most definitely broken . . . A shiver went down his spine. Such bliss. If that didn't get him another two inches on his wing-span, he didn't know what would-- save for sticking his hands in the oven again. Burns were always fun. Although the bones were already winding back together, the district leader decided merely to lie there and enjoy the smells of the forest. Pain, the smell of pine needles: what more could one desire?

Isobel had been...Strutting was the only word her mind could find. Sunning was better she decided the bull was her favorite form on a sunny day. The black leather was great for relaxing muscles and gathering heat, but didn't retain it like fur.

She had small horns despite being female, Isobel didn't have any idea how that happened or why but she liked it...It made her look threatening, like a bull probably should be and made a black bull more convincing. She was trotting around the place getting a feel for the layout of the island. Her head turned as she heard a thump, it sounded slightly more solid than a branch...What was that?

She charged in that direction and jumped over a fallen tree, continued thundering toward the noise. Isobel was oblivious as to how bulky she was in this form. She turned her head to the noise's source and saw a figure on the ground. Did someone fall? She thoughtI could take them to the infirmary! She thought charging towards them frantically. The ground shook slightly in the animal's wake.

She ran in the direction and in her panic she managed misjudge her step and managed to stand on something... and it cracked. Looking down she found she had stepped on the blond boy. Her golden eyes filled with panic. What a great start in a new place.. Hurting someone. Everyone will blame this one me!

Damian heard the trotting become closer and closer . . . He couldn't fathom what it was coming from, though. Probably someone from Sunshield passing through, for whatever reason. He was pleasantly surprised when the click of the hooves became nearer-- and promptly stepped on him, easily breaking two of his ribs.

The district leader took a sharp breath in; he had experience broken ribs once before, when he had not liked pain nearly as much. He wasn't able to appreciate it then. Now, Damian savored it: how his chest became moist with blood, how his breathing was impaired . . . Bliss.

"Thank you," he breathed to the bull, unsure whether or not it could understand him; animals were often smarter than humans gave them credit for. Regardless of the aptitude for intellect, however, if the creature did not remove his leg soon, Damian was not going to heal-up properly. It would be amusing, yes, but hardly effective.

The bull made something of a panicked snort as she pulled her hoof of the boys chest. They're going to hunt me down...with pitchforks and such. She could see how this would all look like she'd charged and trampled him. Oh this looks so bad! She thought of how it must look, a battered boy and a bull with blood on it's hoof. Brute. She thought, critically That's what you are!

Isobel cringed away slightly from the person, shifting to humanoid form as she took a step forward in a move to pick the blond boy.

Back on human form in she had blood on her hand, in the process of panicking and wondering how to pick him up she heard something...No, no no I must have misheard that. A thankyou? for what, Breaking his ribs. There were a swears that rhymed with Thank and could be paired with you, she could think of a few.

She knelt beside him, "Are you alrigh-" Stupid question. "Where is the nearest healing place?" She could transport him on her back, she'd done it before...

Ah, pain. The feeling quickly disappeared once the hoof was removed, the vôtch doing its usual thing and healing every and any injury sustained. With the healing came the gratifying rustle of wings; 'overusing' the power was always wonderful. The pain was nice, the healing made it all right, and the wings growing just made everything all the better. Repeat endlessly.

Damian could not help but chuckle genially at the bull's offer, shrugging off the fact that the bull was actually speaking now. It was only a matter of time before animals adapted to the English language.

"No, that's quite alright," he informed the creature nonchalantly as he got up from the grass and brushed his black cargo pants of spare blades of grass. "I'm fine, as you can clearly see." Could it, though? He did not know much of the eyesight of a bull. Nevertheless, standing up was probably a clear sign of health regardless of species. That, and he really wanted to show-off the vôtch. See the Amazing Damian and his ever-healing ability! Hit him as many times as you'd like! Yes . . . What a wonderful fantasy.

The boy quickly turned his head towards his back, wanting to make sure . . . YES! Two more inches! At this rate, a good twenty-thousand more falls from the Aviary, plus or minus a few hundred, should get him a large enough wingspan to fly. Probably. His face simply lit-up at the idea of flight; here, he could hurt himself (and have others hurt him in turn) as much as he pleased, and no one would stop him! No one . . .

Isobel glanced him up and down with her golden eyes, he was fine... She narrowed her eyes at that. Strange to say the least. She examined his wings as he got up, like a bat's but slightly curled up and weak looking. Were they broken or something?

"Oh that's good sir" She said relaxing a bit. The wings and healing factor was what set him apart for the general population she thought. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

She she locked eyes and got blank, Isobel was relieved but then she remembered as an animal she'd have no problem with the mindreading but when she turned back she would get it again- The peoples many wants and terrors. She absolutely loved having everyone's dirty laundry in her head.

It was also the fact that she could only see it when people were thinking about it, and there was no warning there to say when someone would tell her something awful, unwittingly of course.

She nodded her head her head "I'm Isobel. It's nice to meet you- no matter how strange the circumstances" That was a good a greeting as any.

The district leader was too enveloped in examining his little black wings to look over at whom he was speaking to. Yes, yes!-- he was so close and yet so far to flying-dom! He did giggle rather girlishly at the word 'sir,' showing the bull that he was still listening. People were calling him 'sir'-- how wonderfully stupid!

"Strange circumstances indeed," Damian agreed, nodding along to the bull's words as he began to preen the wings; a feather here, a touch there . . . 'Isobel,' though? That sounded rather feminine. Then again, his name sounded rather satanic. One couldn't judge these things fairly.

"The name's Damian." He habitually held out a hand to be shook, still focused on the wings. Ever particle had to be perfect. "District leader of Woodenway. Where do you reside?" It could easily be the forest; Damian had yet to care enough about his own district to know the people's names and faces.

Isobel turned back human within a matter of seconds and shook Damian's out held hand, he was still preening his wings so she took the opertunity to shake before he realized she had sharp claws. Upon contact she could hear his heart beat...What the!? She thought immediately. She knew this feeling, it was when she found a candidate to shift into.

To keep her cool she looked at his still turned head to see if there was anything else extraordinary about him or her current enviroment. Oh geez..If a diversion to her attetion didn't start soon Isobel would got insane with all this..longing. She couldn't describe it- Intense cravings wasn't strong enough.

If she wanted to stay in silver edge eating the neighbors wouldn't do at all. The phooka didn't think this could happen with humans. He didn't even have black hair! He seemed to enjoy pain but having his heart chewed out wouldn't be recoverable despite his advanced healing.

"The market place, just got here a couple of days ago" She said, the distraction of his voice tuning out the heartbeat temporarily.

There we go: perfection at its most perfect. Damian finally turned towards the bull, feeling the grasp of the handshake--

HUMAN. His red eyes widened, then quickly narrowing for examination. A very . . . blue human? Woman. With wonderfully sharp claws . . . Useful. Painful. Interesting.

Her answer was unique in that, while Isobel previously seemed to have all attention on him, she seemed very distant now, distracted by something else. What, he couldn't fathom, nor did he want to. The opportunity of pain was too pleasant to simply dismiss. The opportunity of any pain was too pleasant to simply dismiss.

"Market district?" he repeated with cheer, grip tightening on the sharp blue hand. The claws graced his own pale skin . . . "That sounds simply wonderful." It really didn't. Tighter now. "Mind if you . . . show me around there sometime?" The 'pause of thought' allowed him to attempt to shove one of the sharp nails into his skin. Pierce it!

Isobel frowned and paled slightly at Damian's tight handshake, she had claws if that wasn't noticed...

"Damian no, It's not sa-" Suddenly her claws cut flesh. Isobel's senses weren't particularly heightened but when it came to blood they certainly were. A a potential donor's blood? ah, that hadn't happened before. The urges were there but would she be able to resist this time? Something happened to the phooka at that moment. A rush of adrenaline from the blue.

She tried to get away, but didn't want to pull form the handshake to draw more blood in the process, Damian -what have you done? thought Isobel as her thoughts were starting to get fuzzy and they eventually drifted off along with her consciousness.

Something else was in control at that point, it's gold pupiless eyes trained on the heartbeat, staring . Even standing with far more confidence than Isobel ever had, tail unwrapped from it's leg and and hung proudly.

It clasped around Damain's hand tightly and dug all of her nails in then pulling him closer, inches away. She gave a sharp toothed dangerous smile while listening to his life pulse.

--safe? Was she seriously concerned about such trivialities after witnessing his healing powers?

"That's kind of the point," he breathed, inhaling sharply as Isobel raked her claws in deeper, deeper. Oh, God, that hit the spot: a fresh sensation of pain! He had yet to feel such sharpness from one's mere fingernails! The woman pulling him in and granting him that wonderfully-pointed smirk only made the sensation all the better.

He didn't interrupt. He didn't want to interrupt-- who in their right minds would! He wanted to savor this sensation forever. He wanted her to keep digging in and keep shining that magnificent, toothy grin-- and, bite into him, while she was at it. Look at her! Her entire body was a weapon, the faulting of her tail in his peripherals only putting on the emphasis.

Damian could not care less about her 'not being human'; why did it matter in the first place? In fact, he was rather preferring the non-humans right now. How powerful would it be to have your entire body as a weapon. . . ?

Savage Isobel looked down at the blood on their hands, and although Damian wasn't complaining about the pain she didn't even care much whether he did or not. She stabbed in just under where the last rib should be, with intentions to cut through and grab onto something...solid for the next few act of whatever act of pain she felt like next.

She was listening the the beat of the heart all the way through and it's spike in activity...And she still felt as if it wasn't high enough yet. Savage Isobel knew for a fact instinctively that it could go higher still.

The golden eyed demon huffed. Why was this creature's form so perfect for a shifting candidate but she didn't particularly want the form? Ah well..The beast wasn't gifted with a short attention span and the thought disappeared as promptly as it was brought up, she could just enjoy herself.

Eyeing up a spot she went decided for some variety and went for a bite..

Damian inhaled sharply at the jab, the blood rushing through and out of him. Yes. YES! What joy was this, what bliss! The last time he had felt such wondrous breaking of his abdomen was . . . was . . .

"Time of death, 3:15."

. . . No. No, he didn't want that pain! Fear and dread began to flood Damian, mingling horribly with the bliss and turning it all into a jumbled panic. Anything but this. Anything but this! Take his fingers, chop him in half, burn his flesh to nothing-- anything but--!

Emotional pain. Remembering what he wanted to forget so badly.

Still, he did not resist Isobel's bite-- he couldn't. He still wanted this, still wanted this physical pain. Let the pleasure drown the emotion all out, let it flow away with the current of blood . . .

Half laughing- half growling at the red eyed boy's response to this whole thing she din't know wether she wanted to keep going all out because she could or depriving him of what he wanted so badly it seemed.

...Upon looking into his eyes she was getting flashes of...things. The demon couldn't identify them very well -but the theme seemed to be death of something... Furrowing her brow she delayed the bite a bit and saw if there was anything else..but no. She looked him in the eyes to see but nothing came of it. She wasn't very good at the reading thing.

Savage Isobel was disappointed to say the least, she pouted. Did her brain parasite have this ability? Most likely..Stark mentioned offhand that it was effective- and now she was envious of a parasite.

Curious, she used her voice "Whaat arrre yooou ssscared off boy?" Hissing slightly while drawing every word out to a weird length. Calling him boy because he barely looked 17 and because she felt as if she were better than him, seeing as she was inflicting instead of receiving pain.

((Holy crap she speaks!))

The pain forced away most other thoughts of the past, save for a lingering siren. The sound echoed back and forth through his ringing temples, the Doppler Effect only heightening the repetitiveness. Back and forth, never-ceasing.

Isobel's words sent a shiver down Damian's spine. It wasn't the way she spoke it, although the phrasing by itself was off-setting: it was rather the question, the context. Scared? Him? That was impossible. One was scared due to physical pain, and he rather enjoyed the sensation it provided. Therefore, he could not be scared. That's how it went, right? Right?

A shiver down the arm, sending goosebumps up throughout.
Fright. He was terrified. Not because of the pain, though.

"I . . ." he attempted to begin, hoping to give her a witty remark or some other deterrent, but another blissful pain came upon him, crawling through his back and resonating through every single vertebrae. His wings. The healing was finally occurring somewhat, letting his power be used and, therefore, forcing the growth of his wings. While usually the pain was short and sweet, the original pain was still ever-occurring, making pain upon pain upon ever-lasting pain occur. He had no more thoughts; the sensation was simply too amazing.

She made a small 'tssk' noise to him and his non-statement and took a few steps back. "Do you know where Sstark is?" Her thoughts turned to her old master, who she'd spent quite a few years with. Stark wasn't Isobel's master, but her's. The only thing she didn't have to share with the parasite.

Isobel has gifts that needed mastered by her, she decided. Seeing as she could get Isobel's memories she didn't even know the dynamics to the reading thing. She could feel her somewhere in the back of her head...Was she snooping this? Didn't matter, didn't care. Some part of savage Isobel wanted her to. It made her want to act even more aggressive because she had an audience.

Looking around she wondered where she was, she wasn't going to ask directions or though. Not knowing was weakness and she didn't show that. Ever. She took a few steps away and surveyed the area. She squinted slightly at the brightness, not being used to it. She could hear Isobel, but not see what she was seeing. "I will be ssseeing you sssoon" she cooed, saying it both to the boy and this place... wherever it was.

As Isobel's grip relaxed, Damian thudded onto the small path, his eyes wide, sweat rolling down his face. He wasn't able to comprehend what she said to him; the pain lingered on his mind, taking away his capacity to think properly. He fail to comprehend anything but the eternal bliss. There was nothing but the bliss. And that was a God send.

Slowly, however, the never-ending euphoria did indeed end, his mind emerging from the thick liquid of happiness, gasping for air. He looked around, wiping the remaining beads of sweat from his brow. His thoughts finally raced-- wings. He had to check, he had to check--!

His hands raced along the edge of the feathers with ginger care and attention. He went down to where the feathers' length was before. And farther. And farther . . .

A foot. An entire foot of growth!

A childish smile finally escaped onto his thin lips, feeling the feathers again just to make sure. There was no doubt now: his wingspan had nearly doubled! Damian chuckled a little, then giggled, then full-on laughed in joy. This was amazing! Beyond words! Beyond all expectations! He picked himself up from the ground, staring up at the peaceful sky.

"Isobel . . ." He lingered on the name. He hoped to see her again. As soon as humanly possible.

Arching an eyebrow, Isobel realised that he hadn't heard. That might have been for the best, she thought. He didn't seem to be silenced by death or pain, nor discouraged by the thought of getting hurt so maybe the less he knew... She took a few steps away and grinned smugly for no reason whatsoever.

She smoothed her face out to neutral, she would play nice for now. His pain obsession...Yes, she could manipulate that. Oh so easily. A district leader too, seeing an importunity for bribery when it arose she turned back to the now standing Damian.

Isobel didn't know yet what to use the leverage for but something would arise surely. She could pretend she inflicted pain for just pleasure. That and she wanted to find someone.

"Yesss boy?" She hummed turning her head, not sure why he was grinning so. Withholding things seemed to be a good idea right now, a view of her blood splattered dress and claws- it was also seeing her back maybe showed him that she was the one with the power and could leave anytime she wanted.

Wave the carrot a bit so he became agreeable... If something she'd unwittingly done had caused him to be so happy..then wouldn't he want more? From the humans that Savage Isobel had been around that seemed to be the pattern.

Damian remained where he was, only turning his head slightly towards the savage creature, that wonderfully savage creature. He found his eyes could not rest on her, however, too drawn instead to the doubled-wings. They were too magnificent to glance away.

There were many things he wanted to tell her, but none of those things seemed to matter. It was like she already knew: yes, he'd like to do this again. No, he didn't care about the inhumanity crap everyone else would give. He had had enough of that himself, and he was still, essentially, human. Inhumanity was an improvement, anyways. No. There was but one thing he had to say to her . . .

"Thank you."

And he walked back to the Aviary with a happy tune.