This is a new story I have literally just thought of and pulled from the depths of my mind.
Please, please let me know if you think it is any good, and worth continuing.
Thank you, and please enjoy.
-g.
The street lights flickered unsure if they should shine, seeing as the first rays of the sun still hadn't reached to far into the sky, leaving an orange glow that washed over everything from the buildings down to the wading tourists and puddles from the morning drizzle that had faded as quickly as it had come.
The brisk coolness hadn't left the air and had found even the locals of Washington D.C. bundled up with thicker jackets and scarves in every color imaginable.
Crowds had thankfully died down with the recent weather, and had found most of the population indoors leaving the sidewalks vacant enough that the long legged woman walking briskly out of pure habit didn't have to follow her usual side stepping routine to be on her way.
Taller than most of the populace making their way down the D.C. streets, she was at ease with her surroundings. Caribbean green eyes watched each person she overlapped and passed with a confidence that bled from every pore, skin bronzed speaking of native descent, brunette curls lazily sashaying across her shoulders and framing a stubborn chin and plump pink lips that at the moment felt slightly chapped.
A soft black hoodie, dark skinny jeans, dark brown riding boots, red gloves and a pink scarf with small ear buds leading into her back pocket completed the vision of the Native American woman.
Tala Sagoyewatha had been intent to have a lazy morning in her home, a large townhouse near John Marshall Park, but as usual her over active brain wouldn't give her that luxury.
She felt ragged, and yet rejuvenated after the past two weeks were spent in Central America assisting a tribe, a trip that had seen her nearly sleepless the entire time.
Still her sleeping patterns were evasive and with the stubborn acceptance of that fact, had tried to put the time she'd been given off to return to her own state of mind. It had found her roaming Constitution Way nearly daily, working her mind to return to its disciplined and impartial state after such an expansion.
Tala Sagoyewatha to most looked nothing more than a beautiful woman, and she found she loved the impartial and nearly militant way the masses would never sense anything out of the ordinary surrounding her entire being.
A direct descendent of Red Jacket, a powerful and important Seneca chief that had been an instrumental hand in helping the founding of the very country, given a peace medal by George Washington himself, Tala had seen the building of the republic surrounding her first hand.
Tala Sagoyewatha was two hundred and thirty five years old, and the very essence of her father's people.
Her father's tribe, the Wolf tribe, was a matriarchal community and in times of the great strife had offered a daughter of the tribe to nature and beings her people revered in hopes of a miracle.
She, as a chief's daughter, had volunteered with pride in her countenance knowing she followed in the footsteps of her warrior mother and wise woman grandmother.
Her father had been forlorn, but wouldn't dare undermine his daughter after making her first life decision in front of their tribe, and had been the instrument in the ritual to bring forth the spirit of her people. It had been her namesake from the very beginning, 'Tala' meaning Wolf in her native language, and so it was the First Wolf that had descended and given her the gifts her people needed to survive the coming hunt.
None knew the extent of how she'd be changed, nor could they attempt to understand in the truth of it.
Tala not only became the beacon of hope of her people, she aided her father in his conquests of peace with the White Men, and only after all had been said and done did her father see what had truly been done to his daughter.
As his skin turned to leather and wrinkles lined his eyes, his daughters' skin remained dewy and fresh, eyes bright and the only thing that aged. Her senses, that to him had only seemed intuition and harisma, showed themselves in frightening time as her ability to sense the souls around her increased and began to become influential even without consent.
Her father had turned from her then, drowning in the early alcohol of the time, guilty and angry at their own gods for having stolen his child from him.
He'd died a guilt ridden man, and Tala mourned his death for years waiting for her own death to follow.
It had never come, and soon she dried her face, and walked her tribe into the future given the title of a god among mortals.
An empath and immortal, Tala found her calling in aiding the tribes of her world with her gifts to pull those away from self-destruction and anger.
For all her power, she felt useless in the ways of the world, careful to keep her gifts hidden from all those not of native descent lest she be tracked. Unable to influence history much, she watched from the dark areas of time as the Native people were herded, killed, displaced, relocated.
Only once did she step from the shadows of time, and it had nearly cost her life.
Brought back to the streets and people milling around her, Tala smiled softly to herself as the buildings gave her the peace she craved from the hundreds of pin prinks of emotions that tried to wheedle their way into her brain.
The Pavilion café to her left, having opened just a bit ago, held a few servers setting up for the morning rush smiles on lips and laughter between them. Not a single ounce of animosity grew within the three women chatting good naturedly, and it was the fleeting moments of feelings such as those that gave her the mental bricks to aid against the horrors of others.
Continuing her walk as the song in her ipod changed over to a heavy beat bringing another smile to her lips, she neared the Smithsonian buildings.
Stepping over a large puddle, Tala tried slipping quickly by a small women who couldn't understand how to stop the feeling of emptiness that flooded her skull even as a man of similar build held her hand close, his emotions even and senseless.
So sad it had to be that way, but she'd grown used to the moments and flashes of lives she couldn't, well more shouldn't, change.
Tucking her gloved hands into the pockets of her hoodie, Tala took a deep breath and wiped the sensation of the couple emotions from her mind with the ease that had taken years to achieve.
Just as she had returned her mind to a calm and even state, she nearly swooned as a wave crashed through her minds wall that separated her and everyone else, nearly swallowing her psyche whole.
Holding off a faint, Tala sagged to her knees, covering her moment of weakness by keeping one foot in front of her as if she needed to check her boots for something caught in the ridges of the sole or something similar.
The wave crashed around the edges of her mind, making her dizzy as Tala frantically lifted her head, eyes wild and panicked, unsure of what was happening to her.
Nothing, nothing came at her, no weapons, no men, not a damn thing save for a long figure in dark nondescript clothing, heavy artillery boots, long shag hair and a ball cap stalking stiffly ten meters in front of her, heading towards the Smithsonian's American History building.
The anger, pain, rage, despair, and grief that continued to roll off him in the waves continued to crash against her mind began to recede slowly as he slipped inside the building, but that didn't matter to her now.
Dragging herself to her feet, a fervor taking over her actions, she scared a few tourists nearby, jumping out of her way as she took off at a run towards her unknown mental assailant.
Building her mind back up as quickly as possible, she felt slightly more prepared for the ram of emotions that came as she drew closer to him. Her mind's eye guiding her, her true eyes blind, as she weaved through out people and exhibits. Unaware that throwing her everything into protecting herself against the emotions that raged against her, she let her own emotions spread like a net sending those around her in a frenzy as well.
Reacting to her power, those around her began to speak in harsh and quick tones, nit picking and wild eyed, reacting as if under a spell as they began to fight amongst themselves.
When a woman in front of Tala raised a hand towards her petulant child, Tala stopped dead and froze.
Reigning herself in, she spread her arms out slowly recalling the nearly visible fibers of synthetic emotions that filled the air pulling them to her. Tucking them back safely within her skin. Only when the mother stooped to gather her visibly shaken child in her arms, cooing even through her own confusion did Tala lower her arms feeling limp.
Taking three long breaths to settle her crazed heart, her minds wall beginning to overlap the waves giving her solid ground once more as she glanced around her.
She stood feet from the entrance to a wing that had brought most of the tourists to the Smithsonian.
The hall of the famous Captain America and his band of heroes.
Reaching up with shaking hands to pull the ear phones from her ears, she quickly wrapped them around a few fingers and tucked them into her jeans.
She felt his presence two rooms over, his emotions outlining his body in her mind leaving her faintly aware she'd remember his shape for the rest of her life.
Taking one last breath of calm, Tala took a step forward, and another passing the aching mother, and into the hall of great men that had fought in the open where she could not.
She'd seen this man when he'd first been a beacon of hope, a sign of hope, and he'd been a complete joke to her aged mind. This Captain America, with a flashy name gave false promises she'd heard offered by white men for centuries.
Yet he'd done as he had promised, not only then, but had returned from a frozen death to aid the world once more, and for that he'd won her respect.
She had thought long and hard on whether he'd been visited by a god as she'd been even after hearing the story of his miraculous making by medicinal engineering, and had often wondered whether science could recreate the mystical.
Pulling back from her thoughts, her breath hitched softly as the man she'd followed came into view, standing in front of a large wall adorned with the face of the American hero and those of his loyal men and fighters.
Outfits stood stiff behind plates of glass, but the mans focus remained on the images, as his emotions surged once more washing through her like ice water.
Memories surged within him bringing him disbelief, he couldn't comprehend how he'd come to be so lost. Rage at a life stolen, crippling guilt, guilt so powerful she was instantly transported back to her father's last breaths.
This man, if he was a man at all, was the embodiment of human fault.
Tala let off a soft gasp as a new emotion came like a needle through her heart, Defiance.
With the sound, the man whirled around with such speed, she hardly saw him move at all until hard blue eyes captured her own, lips pulled tight in a grim expression as the part of her mind that was once again exclusively her own felt true astonishment.
The eyes looking into her very soul now, held the same face as the image behind him standing in proud memorium with Captain America.
