Author's Notes: And so, moving on, we come to the first chapter, in which we learn the protagonist's name. No, she hasn't run into anyone yet, but rest assured, she will. evil laughter
Waves lapped quietly at a crumpled bundle of black lying upon the very edge of the Neverland shoreline. A day gecko skittered out from the trees some twenty paces distant, its curious eyes taking in this unusual sight. Gathering its courage, the animal came closer, poking around the mass.
It was a woman, from what little the gecko had heard said of women. At least, most of the traits were present. Long hair, soaked in brine and half- torn from its braid. A narrow face with soft features and almond-shaped eyes. Fine-boned hands with long, expressive fingers. She was lying on her stomach, so that some parts of her anatomy was hidden, but the gecko was convinced that whatever happened upon its beach was female.
But something was confusing it. The big, feathery things spread out over the beach at its sides looked as though they'd be more at home on some giant bird of prey. And her ears were pointed like those of a faerie. It had heard of women that put colored goo on their mouths to attract males of the species, but if this woman had painted that blackness on her lips it would have washed off in the sea. No, the reptile got the uncomfortable impression that her lips were naturally dark.
And those silver talons that tipped her fingers were definitely not something you'd expect to find on a lady.
Judging by the pallidity of her skin, and the fact that her chest did not move, she was dead, poor thing. If a gecko could sigh, this one would have. It was such a pity. It had seen one woman on this island, in the company of the wild children, and it would have liked to get a closer look at a live one.
"Gack!"
The lizard leapt a full three inches into the air at the unexpected sound, and ran back into the forest in a panic, not bothering to see what had made the noise.
The black-clad woman's fingers twitched, then curled into a fist around a handful of sand. Hacking, she rolled onto her side, and vomited up a mouthful of seawater, then opened her eyes a tiny slit.
"How did I..." Her voice came out as a hoarse croak as she heaved herself up into a sitting position, cradled her pounding head in her arms as though afraid it would split apart. The last thing she remembered was . She shook her head violently, then winced, massaging her temples was being struck by that bolt of lightning. Served her right for being an idiot and forgetting to take her jewelry out before braving an electrical storm. A cursory inspection confirmed her suspicions: aforesaid jewelry was missing. Fine by her. At the moment, more pressing matters were at hand.
"Where the hell am I?" She groaned, raising her head and shading her purple cat's eyes against the sun. Then her guts abruptly twisted and she doubled over onto her side, racked by another fit of coughing.
Laughter reached her ears, and jarred her waterlogged brain into making her push herself upright again, folding her legs underneath herself. Belatedly she lifted her wings, fanning them to release a small waterfall of sand. To her surprise, the top halves were nearly dry, which indicated she'd been out for some time. The wind stirred her salt-stiffened bangs and carried with it, again, the silvery laughter she'd heard before. On the outset it was an innocent enough sound, but an undercurrent of malice made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle a warning. Her head turned.
A short distance offshore, eyes as dark as India ink were watching her.
Three pairs of eyes, in point of fact, though when they caught her gaze, the watchers vanished with a splash and flailing of fins.
"Thank you," the woman on the shore tried to shout- but, as before, her voice was little more than a croak. She knew enough about mermaids, on the other hand, to realize that their rescue was probably based more on a whim than from any real desire to help. They were capricious beings, like most fey, subject to wild mood swings at any moment- though, as creatures of water, they tended to be subtler in the execution of aforesaid moods.
Having regained some semblance of strength from her rest upon the shore, the black-clad lady finally managed to heave herself to her feet. She swayed a bit, like a tree in a wind, but managed to keep herself from falling onto her face. Which would, needless to say, have been rather embarrassing.
Her people were creatures of air- what the travelers to the far North called Crow Girls. They were warrior women and some men- with wings like those of great birds of prey. Not to mention the catlike qualities evident, such as her pointed ears, elongated canines, her slitted eyes, and her claws. Famous for mercenary and assassin work in their own land, they were widely regarded as little more than myth in the other four corners of the world. Now, what to do? She was marooned on this godforsaken island, with no idea where she was nor how to return to her own land. She'd gone far abroad in search of work, and doubted there was anyone this far from her homeland who would have any inkling of what she was, much less which direction her land lay.
That was, of course, even assuming that there were people here.
Which she doubted.
"There's only one way to find out," she commented to the air, and turned her cool gaze to the jungle behind her. She'd have to venture within sooner or later, but leather was true hell to wear when it was wet. And she was clad almost entirely in exactly that- sleeveless shirt, leggings, boots, even gloves. Only her heavy, ankle-length coat was made of plant fiber cotton, to be exact- and that wasn't particularly pleasant wet, either. She certainly didn't relish the idea of traipsing through who-knew how many miles of jungle in the stuff.
"Gods-cursed idiot," she muttered, tramping to the very edge of the trees and sitting down hard upon a log. "Brainless bird woman! Get yourself fried, bruised, drowned and lost all in one day. Brilliant, Taranis. Really brilliant."
After a moment's struggle, she'd removed her uncomfortably damp clothing and laid each article upon the beach to dry. She felt no qualms about sitting about in the raw; Crow Girls viewed such things as much less taboo than humans did. Besides, there was no one about to see her.
Her white skin glared against the dark backdrop of foliage. She was almost pale enough to be considered an albino, if not for the waves of black hair now unbraided- that hung loosely down her back. Where a human's cheeks would be tinged pink, hers were frosted a delicate blue-gray. She was reasonably flat-chested: another common aspect of her kith. Her wings were half-spread on either side, like a vulture after a rainstorm. She seemed absorebed by the lapping of the carribean-blue waves and the soft sand beneath her feet. Gradually, her head began to droop, lulled by the sound of surf and the warmh of the sun baking her flesh. Her eyes slid shut, and within a few minutes, she had fallen asleep. Again, she suspected herself alone on this isle. There was no cause for concern.
Was there?
Author's End Notes: Ah, the gentle sleep of the untroubled. She's going to get a rather nasty shock when she wakes up. Stay tuned.
Waves lapped quietly at a crumpled bundle of black lying upon the very edge of the Neverland shoreline. A day gecko skittered out from the trees some twenty paces distant, its curious eyes taking in this unusual sight. Gathering its courage, the animal came closer, poking around the mass.
It was a woman, from what little the gecko had heard said of women. At least, most of the traits were present. Long hair, soaked in brine and half- torn from its braid. A narrow face with soft features and almond-shaped eyes. Fine-boned hands with long, expressive fingers. She was lying on her stomach, so that some parts of her anatomy was hidden, but the gecko was convinced that whatever happened upon its beach was female.
But something was confusing it. The big, feathery things spread out over the beach at its sides looked as though they'd be more at home on some giant bird of prey. And her ears were pointed like those of a faerie. It had heard of women that put colored goo on their mouths to attract males of the species, but if this woman had painted that blackness on her lips it would have washed off in the sea. No, the reptile got the uncomfortable impression that her lips were naturally dark.
And those silver talons that tipped her fingers were definitely not something you'd expect to find on a lady.
Judging by the pallidity of her skin, and the fact that her chest did not move, she was dead, poor thing. If a gecko could sigh, this one would have. It was such a pity. It had seen one woman on this island, in the company of the wild children, and it would have liked to get a closer look at a live one.
"Gack!"
The lizard leapt a full three inches into the air at the unexpected sound, and ran back into the forest in a panic, not bothering to see what had made the noise.
The black-clad woman's fingers twitched, then curled into a fist around a handful of sand. Hacking, she rolled onto her side, and vomited up a mouthful of seawater, then opened her eyes a tiny slit.
"How did I..." Her voice came out as a hoarse croak as she heaved herself up into a sitting position, cradled her pounding head in her arms as though afraid it would split apart. The last thing she remembered was . She shook her head violently, then winced, massaging her temples was being struck by that bolt of lightning. Served her right for being an idiot and forgetting to take her jewelry out before braving an electrical storm. A cursory inspection confirmed her suspicions: aforesaid jewelry was missing. Fine by her. At the moment, more pressing matters were at hand.
"Where the hell am I?" She groaned, raising her head and shading her purple cat's eyes against the sun. Then her guts abruptly twisted and she doubled over onto her side, racked by another fit of coughing.
Laughter reached her ears, and jarred her waterlogged brain into making her push herself upright again, folding her legs underneath herself. Belatedly she lifted her wings, fanning them to release a small waterfall of sand. To her surprise, the top halves were nearly dry, which indicated she'd been out for some time. The wind stirred her salt-stiffened bangs and carried with it, again, the silvery laughter she'd heard before. On the outset it was an innocent enough sound, but an undercurrent of malice made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle a warning. Her head turned.
A short distance offshore, eyes as dark as India ink were watching her.
Three pairs of eyes, in point of fact, though when they caught her gaze, the watchers vanished with a splash and flailing of fins.
"Thank you," the woman on the shore tried to shout- but, as before, her voice was little more than a croak. She knew enough about mermaids, on the other hand, to realize that their rescue was probably based more on a whim than from any real desire to help. They were capricious beings, like most fey, subject to wild mood swings at any moment- though, as creatures of water, they tended to be subtler in the execution of aforesaid moods.
Having regained some semblance of strength from her rest upon the shore, the black-clad lady finally managed to heave herself to her feet. She swayed a bit, like a tree in a wind, but managed to keep herself from falling onto her face. Which would, needless to say, have been rather embarrassing.
Her people were creatures of air- what the travelers to the far North called Crow Girls. They were warrior women and some men- with wings like those of great birds of prey. Not to mention the catlike qualities evident, such as her pointed ears, elongated canines, her slitted eyes, and her claws. Famous for mercenary and assassin work in their own land, they were widely regarded as little more than myth in the other four corners of the world. Now, what to do? She was marooned on this godforsaken island, with no idea where she was nor how to return to her own land. She'd gone far abroad in search of work, and doubted there was anyone this far from her homeland who would have any inkling of what she was, much less which direction her land lay.
That was, of course, even assuming that there were people here.
Which she doubted.
"There's only one way to find out," she commented to the air, and turned her cool gaze to the jungle behind her. She'd have to venture within sooner or later, but leather was true hell to wear when it was wet. And she was clad almost entirely in exactly that- sleeveless shirt, leggings, boots, even gloves. Only her heavy, ankle-length coat was made of plant fiber cotton, to be exact- and that wasn't particularly pleasant wet, either. She certainly didn't relish the idea of traipsing through who-knew how many miles of jungle in the stuff.
"Gods-cursed idiot," she muttered, tramping to the very edge of the trees and sitting down hard upon a log. "Brainless bird woman! Get yourself fried, bruised, drowned and lost all in one day. Brilliant, Taranis. Really brilliant."
After a moment's struggle, she'd removed her uncomfortably damp clothing and laid each article upon the beach to dry. She felt no qualms about sitting about in the raw; Crow Girls viewed such things as much less taboo than humans did. Besides, there was no one about to see her.
Her white skin glared against the dark backdrop of foliage. She was almost pale enough to be considered an albino, if not for the waves of black hair now unbraided- that hung loosely down her back. Where a human's cheeks would be tinged pink, hers were frosted a delicate blue-gray. She was reasonably flat-chested: another common aspect of her kith. Her wings were half-spread on either side, like a vulture after a rainstorm. She seemed absorebed by the lapping of the carribean-blue waves and the soft sand beneath her feet. Gradually, her head began to droop, lulled by the sound of surf and the warmh of the sun baking her flesh. Her eyes slid shut, and within a few minutes, she had fallen asleep. Again, she suspected herself alone on this isle. There was no cause for concern.
Was there?
Author's End Notes: Ah, the gentle sleep of the untroubled. She's going to get a rather nasty shock when she wakes up. Stay tuned.