featherborn | Returning to Land

Returning to Land

The eagle circles one final time over the trees, wings stretched to their full. Freedom at its best. There is a slow spiralling dissent onto a tree in the middle of the forest. Moments later the eagle vanishes, and there is blond woman sitting in its place. Katya settles down on the study branch, swinging her legs while she reaches for the backpack she left there earlier.

She ties her hair back and slides the old faithful baseball down shading her face. Well, back to be landlocked for another day or so. She rips open a Mars bar with her teeth and toasts the skies and spits the wrapper to the ground cursing her employers at the circus.

If she could have her way, she would live in the forest where she could fly every day and ignore the rest of the world.

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"A lot of people are," he agrees, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walk on. "Needlessly in many cases, I think. It's like we've forgotten how to reach out or how to let people in."

Katya turns her eyes up to the sky. It is her place of comfort when her thoughts become uncomfortable. "Perhaps because we think others have enough to deal with already." That is her own personal reason anyway.

He hums softly in agreement. "That would be one reason for a fair few." He smiles at her. "Though it's probably less accurate than you think."

Her fingers disappear deeper into her pockets where she can twiddle her fingers and she looks at him puzzled. "How do you mean less accurate?"

"I mean that a lot of people wouldn't only be willing but even happy to make the space and take the time. Probably more people than you'd think." Hr chuckles quietly, sheepishly, looking down at the street as he scratches the back of his head, ruffling up his hair. "Yes, I'm a hopeless optimist, I admit it."

"I like that you are," she murmurs. "I know people care about others. But helping adds to their own problems." She will listen to other people's problems and help her friends but there are days it only add darkness to her heart. She does not wish other people to experience that.

"Not always," he muses in reply. "Sometimes helping others might ease ones own burdens. Like by putting a different perspective on things, or maybe by simply taking ones mind of matters for a bit. Not always, though. I admit that it can be a bit of a tough balancing act."

Katya's body language becomes more at ease as they leave the more crowded streets and head down the quieter ones, getting closer to her block of flats. Like her bird form, she is more comfortable in less enclosed areas. "It feels like miracle when you do get it right," she agrees.

"Sometimes I think it would be easier to be only a bird."

"Easier? Mh, probably. For a time. But we're not just birds, and in the end I think our humanity would reassert itself." He breaks off the more serious pondering with a grin. "It's a great escape, though."

"Yes, and a very cheap holiday." Who needs trains or buses when the skies are free and so much more comfortable. She smiles at the comments on humanity. "I will know I am losing my humanity if I get a desire to lay eggs."

That comment has Casper laughing out loud, his laughter very free and honest. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be your cue to get back down to the ground for a bit."

Katya comes to a stop outside of a block of run down flats, disappointed that the walk must come to an end. Her Russian boys would have a thing or two to say if she invited a man in even for an innocent cup of tea after so few meetings with him.

"I am a fan of bird humour," she says her eyes dancing as she reaches into her bag for the key. "I would invite you in, but I am afraid a warm my muscles are more in favour of a warm bath to ease tension from the performance."

"That's quite alright." If he had at all expected to be invited in he shows no trace of disappointment. Really, he had expected no such thing. If an invitation had come, he would have likely declined.

"Though if you wanted to go flying some day, care to give me a day when you're free and have the time?"

"Wednesday at noon," Katya suggests. "It is my day so I can make it evening if you are working." It is sometimes easy to forget that non circus folk have very different routines and hours "We could meet back at same tree in the woods."

"Noon is good." Work isn't something he has to worry about anymore but that isn't something he wants to explain.

"It's been nice, having a chance to properly meet you. I've enjoyed myself tonight."

"Me too," she says and sticks out her hand. "It has been a pleasure to meet you Casper. It is nice to have a friend who is outside of the circus again. Especially one who can fly. I know some few who can change their shape."

"The skies have been a bit lonely, I'll admit. I used to have a friend who flew as well, but we lost touch over the years." He shakes her hand, his grip firm and warm. "It'll be nice with a little bit of company again."

"That is a pity," she murmurs as she releases his hand. Sounds of a couple arguing start to float through one of the open windows in the flats. "And that is more if a pity," she says glancing towards the window.

"Well," she puts the code in to let herself into the common area hallway. "Until Wednesday. You have my number in case anything changes and you can no longer come."

"I'll let you know if something comes up," he readily agrees, sure that nothing will. "Otherwise I'll just see you back at the tree."

His gaze flickers up to the open window at the sound of angry and raised voices. "Very much a pity," he murmurs in agreement.

She hopes the daughter is safely around at her aunt's. Katya knows more about the family than she should through the walls. And with a final look back she steps inside, making her way towards her rooms. She finds the daughter out in the corridor, sitting with her hands over her ears. Like she has done on more than one occasion, she draws her with her to the flat for hot chocolate and somewhere comfortable to hide until the argument passes.

The raised voices stay raised, loud through the thin walls in a sadly common quarrel. It is as it so often is.

But there is something different, for those sensitive enough to such things to notice; a presence, like someone calmly watching and perhaps waiting. And there's a sound, a strange sound, like huge and mighty wings beating in the air.

A sound that Julie picks up on as she creeps back hugging the wall. She pauses nervously, before scurrying along at a faster pace. Down one set of stairs, three doors along and she puts her ear to the door. It is still. Very still. Fingers trembling, she opens the door.

Dad on the couch, mum in the bedroom. She can see the light under the bedroom door. Quietly, she puts the blanket over her dad who barely makes a noise in response. There are bruises at his throat this time.

She shivers and walks to the window, looking out as though she could escape through it.

That sound again, louder now, a heavy rustling sound from above. Then the figure appears, floating slowly down from above and coming to hover outside the window. Long dark hair. Kind hazel eyes. And wings, pale and bright against the dark of the night.

He holds out his arms, beckoning and welcoming.

Startled, Julie takes a step back. Her mouth forms an 'o'. The image of the man is straight out of the stories her dad told her, that there would always be an angel watching over her. Slowly she steps forward and opens the window. There is a cigarette burn visible on her wrist as she stretches her hand out.

"Are you real?" she whispers.

The angel's eyes doesn't so much as flicker to the girl's wrist. He doesn't need to. He knows what's there. For a moment he can almost feel his own back crawl and burn in response to it.

He nods in response to the girl's question, and then speaks. "Come fly with me."

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