She was a Swann.
He was Sparrow.
He was common, far beneath her high-class standards.
She was beautiful, far above his drab nature.
So, the question was…..Why was each in love with the other?
After all she, the beautiful Lady Swann, was set to marry the refined long-legged Crane, who had rescued her from being joined to the pompous, long-necked Stork. She had been friends with the Crane since they were hatchlings and he had been saved from an attack by a flock of vicious Falcons.
All of the hens nodded their gossiping necks and predicted that she would fall in love with the Crane sooner or later. And so she had. But, all of those things had changed the day she met the infuriating Sparrow.
Since he had saved her from drowning, a humiliating enough circumstance as it was for a Lady of her stature, to be saved by a fowl of such common roots, he had bobbed and weaved, flitted and flown through her life as he pleased from that point on.
Every time she gossiped with her cackling friends, when she was with her handsome Crane, and every time she turned around, it seemed, he was there, figuratively or physically.
The Sparrow haunted her, with his low-class behavior, cocky manner, and bewildering words, no matter how Miss Swann tried, he refused to be shaken from her beautiful, high-class head. And, to her own horror, and to the horror of her dignified father, she noticed that with his presence, her own nature was slowly, but surely, going through it's own transformation.
She used to worry about looking absolutely perfect all the time, preening for hours to get every feather in place, she used the blush demurely and hide her face under one glossy wing when a handsome young fowl complimented her, certainly never touched anything alcoholic, and she was constantly secure in the knowledge that she loved her life-long friend the Crane; named Turner.
All things befitting to a Swann of her stature, to be sure, but that was before the Sparrow minced into her life, in all of his cocky glory.
Now….
So what if her feathers were a little out of place? Not like anyone would notice, or care, if her wings weren't spotlessly white at all times. Why not smile, and accept the compliment with one of her own, maybe swinging her tail a little execratively as she walked away? She had never really cared for the throat-scorching beverage know as rum, but why not have a few healthy swigs every once and awhile, what was the harm?
And, most worrying of all, she was beginning to call into question her devotion to her true love, Turner. Something that she knew shouldn't have even crossed her mind. Ever.
Little did she know that as the thoughts chased themselves round, and round in her head, as she desperately tried to stop the flow, but unable to, the object of her slow decent into madness was at that moment contemplating the lovely Miss Swann, himself.
This is a chapter story, and the second installment should be up soon. I know it might be kind of confusing, and I tried to avoid that but let me know, and I'll try to edit it. I accept constructive criticism, but no flames please. Let me know if I did anything wrong. P Review please!