Hello! I'm aware that absolutly none of you are MY fans, consdering that this is another user entirely, collabing with Gespens, but I hope you can forgive the fact.

Enjoy!

Clipped Wings will Never Soar

I'm not an outwardly rebellious girl. I learned martial arts about four years ago, but even then, it was Aikido. Always focus on defence. Always focused inward. You may attack, but only if you are attacked first. You may fly, but only when one tries to clip your wings. I never liked that much. One thing you should know, I have a temper. A bad one. And I love to fight, even if only with words. It has cost me a great many friends and days on end of freedom, but I love it anyways.

At school, I am reserved.

At home, I hide behind a mask.

Online, I keep a peace of sorts.

And in my dreams, I fight for the world around me.

My dreams are where I live, where I hide, and where I retreat at any given point in the day. I yearn to fight, and know it can never happen, so I dream it, and find the next best thing. The closest thing to rebellion I've ever felt was trying to convince my mom I didn't want to go to University.

A great load of luck there!

Not.

Looking in the small round mirror in my room, I try to find a way to show who I am. To romanticize myself would to describe with fondness my grey-green eyes, almond-shaped despite my status as Irish-American, my thick, short brown hair, alabaster skin, pixie-round face, and warm smile. But, no. My eyes are in flux, my hair tends to frizz, my skin is dotted with 'beauty marks' and my warm smile is marred by braces. The face would have gone well with the sinewy, petite figure of a gymnast. I, however, am nowhere near a gymnast. I am, in fact, more of a football player.

So sue me.

My Dad is a behemoth.

I made little sound as I crept down the stairs, dressed all in black (Tee, Jacks, Kitten Heels... Gimme a break, I dont own any black sneakers!) but for my white socks. I was silent, in fact. Shinobi-iri. The Ninjutsu art of stealth and entering. I'd be a badass Ninja. Seriously.

The night air was fresh and cool on my face as I strode down the street. I lived in a business district, so I was a stone's throw away from several small themed shops and restaurants. My favorite was a little Bubble Tea place. Okay, so Bubble Tea made me gag, but the juice was fresh.

To say I looked spooky there was an understatement. Funeral black, my only skirt, a broom-stick gypsy number, and a tee-shirt, paired with black kitten heels, made me a sight to see. And stare at. And fear. And then snigger at when you were sure I wasn't looking. Which happens a lot.

I had brought my I-Pod, and was greatly enjoying the sound of Daughtry's 'Crash' while I sipped a watermelon juice, strolling on my way home. I passed a darkened shop, and felt hands grab me. If I was any of my characters, I would've had a switchblade, or a 9mm. If I was one of my characters, I would have spun around and stabbed or shot or castrated my assailant, I would've killed them and walked away, casual, knowing I'd never be caught, knowing I'd never suffer a nightmare. At least one of them would've been smiling, licking the blood from the blade as if it were a sadistic lollipop.

But I wasn't.

So I did what I knew how to.

I took it.

I stood still while they ripped away my wallet (Suckers. Two bucks. Two fucking bucks. HA) my I-Pod, and my earrings. They didn't want me, just the few trappings that were worth anything. And, apparently, my life. Whoever it was, they grabbed the bad of my neck. I barely had the time to feel the knife on my skin before it ripped across. Before the blood was spilt.

I was left on the floor.

I was dying.

And before long, everything was black.

Blackbird

When I woke up, the pain was suffocating. It was no longer in my throat, but my head. My hands and temples were caked with blood, but the cuts were gone.

You were close to death.

I curled up in a ball, trying not to cry.

You felt its cold fingers on you.

The pain was gone. I sat up, looking around. Still bloody. Blood, everywhere, blood. I was sitting in blackness, only a large stained glass plate supporting me. "Christ."

You have been chosen, child.

I stood, shivering.

You must wield this power. Master it, or all is lost.

The platform shook violently, and three pedestals rose. A staff, a sword, a shield.

Chose. The power to fight, the power to protect, the power to invoke. Be wise, child.

I thought long and hard. I had always wanted to fight. Always. With a deep breath, I reached out a blood-caked hand, and grasped the sword.

"I wish to fight!" I bellowed, my voice echoing. I sounded different. Like a hero, in a fantasy movie. Someone not afraid to fight. Not afraid to be strong.

Very well, child. Now, chose, what will you give up?

I closed my eyes, and thought. It wasn't a hard choice.

"I... I'm giving up my shield!"

Before I knew what was happening, I was falling, the wind whistling in my ears, my head hurting again. I crashed into another platform, and curled into a little ball. I didn't know where I was, or what was going on, only that the sword was next to me.

And I was bleeding again.

---

Blackbird singing in the dead of night...

You're a warrior, now.

I sat up, and saw drops of tar, forming in the air. Air? Huh? They formed, and I gulped. I was supposed to fight THOSE?

Take these broken wings and learn to fly...

Take up your blade, and fight.

It was a struggle to stand and lift the sword, but I did.

All your life...

Learn.

I swung it. At that moment, I lost myself. I didn't know what was going on, or why I was still alive, only that I was fighting. My sword knew my touch, I was sure of it, somehow. It was mine.

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive...

Soon, the heartless were gone. I didn't know why, and I wanted to, desperately. I fell again, and it was starting to piss me off. Heartless. Jeez, they DID look like Heartless. I didn't know much about kingdom hearts, but I knew that those things were fucked up, and unless I wanted to end up one, I needed to keep fighting.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night.

Alright, Chickadee. You need to calm down, and get your bearings. You've lost blood, you're scared, but this is happening, and it will keep happening. Naginata, Bōryaku, Intonjutsu, Taijutsu, you don't have those. I was insane. Obviously. Definitely. It was further proven by the translucent door that had sprung up before me.

Take these sunken eyes, and learn to see.

To walk through, was to fall again. To stay was to die. I had to walk. I had to keep going. It was instinct, and though I hated the thought, my feet guided themselves. Before I knew what was happening, I was on another plate. I could only wait for the next onslaught, and it was not slow in coming. I watched as my shadow pulsed, and grew.

"Oh, BUGGER!"

All your Life...

"FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckBUGGER!" I ducked out of the way as it barrelled towards me, and lost grip on my sword. My head hit the plate, and stars danced in front of my eyes.

"I'm so fucking dead." I groaned, rolling over and reaching for the sword. The battle was deadly, ferocious, epic... Not. It consisted of my running, panting, stabbing, and trying to dodge the great Shadow beastie. When it went the way of the heartless, I collapsed.

"I should've just DIED!"

You were only waiting, for this moment, to be free.

My sword dropped from my weary hand, yet again, and I closed my eyes.

Please, god, if you exist, wake me up. This is too much.

You faced yourself.

"Shut the fuck up!" I bellowed, my eyes still closed.

You won.

"Did I tell you to shut up?"

You're ready to wield your Keyblade.

"I'm not a video game character. I'm human! Get lost!"

With the strength of a Warrior, the Valour of a Knight, and the Impulsive Instincts of a Child.

I covered my ears, but it was no use.

Soar

I opened one eye, looking around suspiciously.

Child of Wind.

I lowered my arms.

Stand and Fight!

It was Lestat, rising re-born. Drawn up as if by a thread, I stood, blood dribbling down my scalp and the corner of my mouth. Blood. I was dying, even as I stood. To stay would be suicide; to go ahead would be to face the unknown. Well, what was left to lose? I walked toward the Keyblade, almost spellbound by its appearance. Huge, almost as tall as I was. Glowing green. Razor sharp prongs sticking out. With a deep breath, I grasped the hilt. It was frightfully cold, but I held on.

I still wish I hadn't.

When I found myself back on the street, the city was different. No, nothing had changed structurally, but the people... It was only then that I saw the Heartless, and the people. Where were the cops, damn it? Leave it them that this is the last place to receive aid.

Assholes.

I lofted the huge blade, finding it as light as air, and took off. I wasn't going to stand by. This was my home they were attacking! I didn't fix any targets, I ran and slashed and hoped I was buying time. Bloodlust and impulse.

Why was I picked for something like this? The city resonated with the eerie howling of wind for a moment, as light flooded my vision. It was a miracle I wasn't blinded.

"Go into the light..." I whispered, spraying blood on the pavement before me.

"Well, fuck it."

My last words, before breaking into a sprint.

They seemed appropriate.