A grand ball room was filled with faceless men and women dancing in their dull colored gowns and suits. The music was only a faint sound to the backdrop of the expected loveliness of the room and the guests. A faint mist, though the room indoors, was covering the ground but no one seemed to notice the strange occurrence. The light pink and white of the mist reflected the colors of the walls and curtains of the room. Golds and pinks interlaced through the wall and pink fabric covered the vast windows.
A new music began to play as the last ended. A different melody compared to anything heard in this part of the world. The crowd of dancing guests had slowed until they had all stopped. Their attention on someone hidden within the circle they formed.
Farrah was dancing. Her arms and legs moving in ways her new companions had not seen before. All eyes were on her as she spun and twirled. She danced alone, no man necessary, as she created beautiful and fluid movements. All of the crowd was fixated on her.
For a moment Farrah’s appearance flashed and was young Aleid, reaching her hands out for Avinnia to take. Feathers stretched towards the fingers but the hands dropped away. The crowd began to murmur. “Who would want to hold those?” “What a hideous beast!” and “No respectable man would want to dance with that thing.” The mist rose and filled up the room, causing the words to grow distant and the faces to fall away.
Dark shadows were casting over the Song Bird. Captain Phillip was at the helm, his fingers wrapped around the wood of the wheel. Rain was beginning to pound the deck but there was no fear in the man’s eyes. He shouted calm orders to his crew and each of them obeyed. Hands grabbing for ropes here and their.
Then the words caught her ears. “Avi, go below!” The words were full of concern but her heart ached. She looked down at her wings. They were why he wanted her to go below. Though she had proven herself capable, with her telekinesis and her talons ,the lack of hands made everyone worry over her.
She looked towards a rope that was whipping in the wind. Defiant of being viewed as weak she moved towards it. She could not fly in this storm so she walked across the deck.
“Avi, I said go below,” Phillip was shouting again.
“Come with me, Avi,” Farrah was trying to convince her as well.
She squinted her eyes and ruffled her feathers to shake off the water. She focused on the rope and for a moment it seemed to calm. She ordered it to wrap itself where it was needed. It did not listen. A harder gust knocked it out of her control again. She moved closer to it and made an attempt to catch it with her wings. She missed once. She missed twice. The third attempt ended with her on the deck. The rope slamming into her and she crumpled over.
The door slammed shut, locking her into her prison, once more. Her wings touched the door. She searched for the handle, for a lock, anything she could use to escape. She moved back from the door and to the window, there were no bars on it. She could fly out if she could open it. The window would not budge as she commanded it. She unsuccessfully attempted to push it open. Her wings were too weak for such an attempt. She was in need of muscles, of fingers, of arms. To push and pry with. Her wings would never be capable of such things. She was trapped. There was no way she could escape.
His hands unlaced the back of her dress, pulling each ribbon away with such careful fingers. When every last ribbon was freed he moved his hands up to the shoulders of the pink satin. He pushed it away, tugging down layers of underclothing to leave only bare skin. Desire. Her hands fumbled at the buckles that hid him from her. Jackets and shirts joined the layers of her dress, on the floor. Passion. His hands caressed her plump breast, one with cold metal and the other with warm skin, taking one at a time with care. Hot breath and a wet tongue bringing her to near ecstasy. Blankets fell from the bed as he took her naked body beneath his. Her fingers tangled in his tousled hair and gripped the muscles of his back. Her thighs tightening to hold him in her. She was a woman beneath him. Everything that had made her strange no longer mattered. Her own fingers were feeling his skin. In that moment, she belonged with him.