(revised version)
Chapter 3: Singed feathers and Sunsets
Folken let the warm water wash over him, caressing his sore muscles and rinsing the dirt away. He sighed and realized he actually felt a bit better. He was sitting on a stool so his wings would be out of the water; they seemed to completely fill the room. Willow came in and with a first aid kit and a bucket. Luckily and cleverly planned, his wings and the shower curtain covered enough of him so she could help clean up his back without indecent exposure.
"Is the water warm enough?" she asked.
"Yes, Its perfect." He put his head under the water and dowsed his hair, which turned a dark turquoise color with the moisture. Then he slicked it back out of his face, sending a few droplets of water flying. Willow chucked lightly at his childishness, the innocent way of moving that seemed so relaxed. She gathered the wet strands at the nape of his neck and squeezed the moisture out of them.
"Alright, I'm going to clean up these cuts on your back. It'll sting, but I'll be quick."
He nodded and she filled the bucket with water, pouring it over his back, the dirt rinsed away. She lathered a washcloth with soap and set about scrubbing his wounds. True to her word, she worked skillfully and quickly. She filled the bucket again and the sting subsided as the foam was rinsed away.
She put her hand to the spot between his wings and pressed slightly, he sucked in a quick breath of air and slowly let it out through his teeth.
"Sorry, this looks like the reason you can't 'draw back' your wings, as you said." She gently traced the red mark that was already becoming a bruise. "It's hot, too. Like you have a bad sprain. You must have pulled or strained something here. Hang on..." She moved some of the feathers that were closest to his back on each wing.
"Looks like you're starting to puff up... on both sides, right under here..." He sucked in another breath as she applied a small amount of pressure.
Come into the guest bedroom and I'll put some ice packs on your back, it'll bring the swelling down. Here's some clothes, when you're done." She sat a pair of black Pajama pants on the counter and left, closing the door behind her.
Folken dried off and put them on, he looked at himself in the mirror.
'The picture of authority, are you not?' He smiled sarcastically. His right arm looked horrible, the places where the tethers had broken revealed sickening bone graphs and he could hardly recognize his own face around the split lip, black eye and myriad of other injuries. His wings were singed so badly he thought he looked a lot like what a chicken that had gotten on Dilandau's bad side would. He opened the door and found Chloe and Shiloh playing on the bed that Willow had put fresh blankets on for him. She came in a couple seconds later and would have scolded the girls, were it not for the smile that was spread across his face.
"Come on you two, let our guest rest." She shooed them out and he sat on the edge of the bed his wings forming a semi circle around him. She knelt on the bed behind him. His heart was racing with her close proximity and he mentally questioned his own motives.
He felt her fingers riffle through the long flight feathers of his wingtips, and heard her sigh disappointedly. "I'm going to have to trim quite a bit of these off. Are you okay with that?"
"Actually…" He fingered the top of his wings, checking for certain telltale sign. He found it as an ashen colored feather fell under his gentle touch. "If you could trim more than you need to I'd be grateful. I should be molting within the week but mostly because I'll need a way to keep my primary feathers from dragging. I can hardly loft either wing properly and they're likely to get caught underfoot with the main flights as long as they are. Until I heal and fledge out again, I'll need to protect them..."
"No problem. But I think I'm going to need pruning shears for the shafts of these," she said, flicking the mid-rib of one of the primaries with her finger. "They're huge! Scissors literally won't cut it with your plumage, big bird."
Folken laughed, then panted painfully when the action jostled his rib cage and back. Willow laid a quieting hand on his shoulder.
"All right, let me go get the shears and I'll cut these first. Then we'll get some ice on you, and you can rest."
"Thank you so much miss… forgive me, I don't even know your name." He apologized.
"I'm Willow Anne Lewis, call me Willow, and you are…?"
"Folken Lacour de Fanel, although some people where I came from called me Strategos… but you can call me Folken."
"Okay, Folken, I'll be right back."
* * *
After the trimming was done and the ice packs applied Folken fell into a deep slumber and slept the afternoon away. Willow preoccupied herself with her sketches and writings. A self-proclaimed writer and illustrator, she actually had a photography job, she worked for a large company, coming up with photos and designs for the labels of their products and covers of all kinds of documents. She found the job quite boring but she got paid a lot, worked very little and from home and had plenty of free time to devote to her hobbies. And it was an excuse to use plenty of rolls of film on anything she wanted, whether she used it for the company or not. Each month she was alloted up to fifteen rolls of film, which she used to her advantage; taking pictures of the birds in her yard, her cousins, flowers, butterflies, and anything else that she could have a whim to capture. She liked the photography part of her job but it was the tweaking photos and taking ones of things that seemed rather redundant that bothered her.
She had so many projects in the works that her drawing table and writing desk looked like a jumbled mess to the untrained eye; filled with pencils, rough sketches, ink pens, paper, colored pencils, and watercolors. Her photography desk had pica rulers and croping tools, wax pencils, photo tags and several rolls of developed and undeveloped photos.
Now, she was drawing one of her flowers that had been crushed from Folken's fall, she had taken a picture of it just the day before and now it seemed appropriate to draw it, almost ironic. The light dipped low as she finally finished putting color to it with her watercolors and set it out to dry. She grabbed her Camera and started towards the stairs that went up on the roof, she wanted a new sunset photo and it seemed like the most appropriate place to get it from. Just as she stepped up on the first step, Folken came wandering into the hallway.
"Willow… where are you going?" He asked and caught up to her, wobbling slightly.
"To the roof to watch the sunset, want to come?" She nodded up to the top of the staircase.
"Of course I would," Folken followed her up the steps, pausing occasionally to catch his breath.
* * *
"Are you feeling any better?" She asked as they
watched the orange ball sink below the horizon. A soft whiring and clicking
filled the air as she took photo after photo.
"A lot better," Folken watched her quizzically. Seeing her turn various lenses, and advanced the film then pressed the shutter release button, resulting in a quick clicking sound.
"I imagine you have quite some story." *click* "I'd like to hear It." She turned to see a quizical and yet deeply sorrowful look come over his face. *click*
"Of course, but first could you explain to me what you're doing, I've never seen this mechanism you're using before."
Willow blinked and walked over to him, kneeling next to him, she showed him all the lenses, the order to turn them in and held it so he could look through it.
"Look at the sunset turn this until the light meter is in the middle of the box on the left and turn the rest until it looks clearest, then push the shutter button. He did.
*Click*
"Now when I develop the film we'll see this sunset again in the picture." She smiled.
"That's very interesting, capturing light to save one image for a long time." Folken smiled warmly at her and motioned for her to stay still. He leaned back and repeated the process, this time capturing Willow in the orange glow from the sunset.
"You're a natural Folken," she laughed, he smiled and felt a strange twing come over him, how long had it been since he'd smiled like that?
"Do you really want to hear my story?" he asked solemnly.
"Yes, but if you don't want to tell it I'll understand. In fact I'd understand perfectly, my story isn't exactly a pretty one either…" Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip as she watched the last sliver of light disappear on the horizon.
"I'd like to hear it… if you don't mind, then I'll tell you my own, it'll probably take the longest and I'd hate to feel sleepy while you tell yours…" He'd fallen asleep while the twins had told him of their adventures playing in the large series of rooms he'd had outfitted for them on the vione, and woken up to two warm little kittens curled up against his sidesA thought suddenly dawned on him and a flash of worry spread over his face. "Where are the children?" He asked, remembering the little girls that had been there earlier that day.
"Oh, my aunt Rose came and got them, actually she's more like my sister than my aunt. She and Steve came and got them while you were sleeping."
"Oh, they are really great girls… but back to your story."
Willow took a deep breath, a flood of emotions swirling around her, clouding her vision like a fine mist. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips before letting her breath out in a deep sigh.
Folken saw her inner turmoil and gently put his left arm around her shoulders. The tender touch made her breath steady and he held her until she could speak again, gently comforting.
"My family wasn't a bad one, I had more than enough to please a little girl. My dad worked for an important company, my mother was a nurse and my brother was… well, the average younger brother, annoying etc. but I loved him a lot. My parents cared about me and I had friends and life seemed to be going my way. Until the year my Grandmother passed away. Suddenly life didn't make sense and my family grew distant. I pushed them away not wanting to get close to anything, except for my brother and one friend. Her brother was around a lot too, I started to date him for a while. He seemed to sooth the pain, somewhat. We were both hurting, both hated the world and the hands we had been dealt. But my family moved and I met some new friends. Life seemed better and I broke up with him, mostly because I didn't feel anything for him any more and I didn't hate things quite so much."
Willow paused and gathered her thoughts about what she was going to share next. Her heart raced and Folken could feel her rising pulse, he held her closer, hoping she could understand how much he cared.
"He wasn't happy about that and I knew it, our families still got together often and I saw him a lot more than I cared to. I even remember he asked 'Why do you always b*^#$ at me?!' I lashed out a him because now he was the main source of my troubles. He would make advances towards me, trying to win my favor back, I assume. But I didn't want that any more, I knew I didn't need him to drag me down. So Ignored him and hurled my insults at him instead of every one else." Her lip quivered as she took a breath. "He definitely didn't like that and one night when I was at their house he raped me. It wasn't like he threatened to kill me or anything, he just over powered me. For so long I thought it was my fault. I thought that just because my life hadn't been in danger it didn't count as rape. The most twisted part was that I felt guilty for what he'd done. So I didn't tell any one."
The tears poured down her cold cheeks, bringing a tingling feeling as the heat from them touched her skin and cooled. Folken wiped them away and encouraged her to continue, his own eyes blurring at her pain. It seemed through trough her and into his veins, swarming him with a mix of anger, fear and sorrow.
"But I moved on, still blaming myself for everything that ever happened. I started high school and met my best friend, she's really great. We both had troubles and leaned heavily on each other, sharing our burdens. We finished high school and made it to different colleges. We managed to stay fairly close but no where near a s close as we were in high school. I remember my twenty first birthday was one of the last times I saw her before I moved into this house. She told me that she'd finally met someone she could marry and we were both extremely excited. The wedding went as planned, I moved into her old house, this house, and I went back to school. I graduated and she was going to a week later… But she never got the chance. She died in a car accident, worst of all she was pregnant and her husband was driving them to the hospital because she had gone into labor." She sobbed into his chest and he gently lifted her into his lap, he gently put his metal arm around her waist and cupped her cheek in his hand.
"Don't stop Willow, I'm here." Some how his gentle voice prodded her on.
"I got a job doing photography and continued writing like I had when I was in High school, it was kind of a way that I remembered her, since she was the one who really got me into writing. I was taking care of my cousins for my aunt when you crashed into my flowerbed today." She looked into his eyes, expecting to see disgust at her past and saw only caring.
He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, the blonde waves had fallen out of the bun she always wore and they wafted lightly in the cool evening breeze. He didn't know what to say, would naything be appropriate? She was trembling in his arms and he did all he could to comfort her. He gently reached for the two pins that were holding her hair in place, and pulled them out so her hair fell around her face in soft waves. He gazed into her clear blue eyes, meeting them with his cherry brandy ones. She shivered involuntarily and he lifted her, sucking in a sharp breath as he did so.
"Don't hurt yourself Folken, I can walk just fine…"
"Shhh, Don't say another word about it." He walked back into the house, and closed the door behind him. She wished he would let her walk, especially when he winced as he stepped down the last step. He took her into the living room and sat with her on the couch. The whole time she just sobbed into his chest and he stroked her back.
"Its not your fault, Willow. Life is hard and people are cruel, I'm so sorry about what has happened to you." He whispered.
"But its all my fault, I made choices, they ruined my life. Its my fault…"
"No, don't blame yourself."
"But Folken…"
"Stop."
She blinked and looked into his stern face, seeing the look of compassion and concern in his eyes. A feeling of regret washed over her and she sobbed harder, realizing that she had no reason to blame herself. She cried because for once someone seemed to really care and really understand her pain, a kindered spirit. He held her close and cooed gentle reassurance into her ear. She cried until all her energy was spent, cried for what had been taken away from her and the pain it had caused her, cried for the life she had lost, the friend she would never see again, and the new future that laid before her.
She sighed in his arms and he felt her relax completely, soon her steady breath told him that she had fallen asleep. He stood and winced before carrying her into her room. In the dark he noticed the drawings, painting and photos all over the walls and the large writing desk in the corner. He pulled the blanket back on her bed and gently laid her down, she woke slightly when he did so.
"Thank you so much Folken."
"Thank you Willow." He turned to leave.
"Don't leave… stay until I fall asleep again, at least." She pleaded, the fear in her voice frightened him deeply, and he felt something hidden, crouched in the dark recesses of her mind waiting to leap on her in her unsheilded sleep.
"All right." He laid down next to her and gently pulled her into his arms. She sighed in his protective embrace and soon fell asleep.
'I'll get up in a moment.' Folken thought, not wanting to leave this comfortable position. But he didn't, he fell asleep by her side.
A/N: HI! A new revised chapter! If you've read enough of my other
writings you know that Willow and Koneko are sort of the two characters
I base on myself, and characters I base on myself usually go through hell.
If this sucks PLEASE tell me! Also if you like it I must know… Thank you
for the complements. \^_^/
Feedback: Any sort of constructive critisism is help mainly
on my weaknesses. Orginaization, dialogue, Characterization, Stream of
Consciousness, etc. Encouragement is nice as well, but really I'm seeking
to grow as a writer. Any literary techniques I can learn are great.
