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Scheherazade in Blue Jeans
freelance alchemist
Flying Lessons 
25th-Jul-2009 05:00 pm

Earrings by sealgair! "Verdigris" feathers, copper wire, turquoise chips and sterling silver lever-back ear wires.

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“Why?” That’s Dela talking, shocking me out of my reverie - I swear I could see the dandelions. I shake my head. Did she dope us? “Why come here, if it’s so great out there? Why throw it in our faces?”

The girl shakes her head, feathers moving with her hair, one gold among the brown and black. Gryphon? “That’s not why. Quite the opposite.”

“Why, then?” Hand on her hip, head cocked, all belligerent. I wondered if she’d seen the story like I had.

“Because you have to remember, “ she says. “Because you need to know there’s a life outside of this. The corps are blotting out your history, your freedom.You need to keep that alive. And someday, you need to get out of here. Escape this poison culture. Make your own.”

“How?” I asked, startling myself as well as Dela.

At this, the girl grinned and scooted down off the car. ”Well, first - by wanting to. And then… by telling other people about this.”

Dela snorted, clearly jealous that she wasn’t getting the girl’s attention. “Ara? She hardly ever talks.”

“Why’s that?” the girl asks. Asks me, not beautiful wild Dela. She’s standing close to me now; she smells musky, cinnamony, and she smoothes my hair back behind my ear like my mother used to do, dark eyes searching mine. Beads in her hair, too. Beads and feathers, and those feathers striking across her cheek…

“I don’t have much to say,” I whisper, a bit ashamed of that in front of this story-packed woman. ”I have no stories.”

“Do you want to?”

I nod. Don’t even have to think about it. And she kisses me.

She kisses me, her hands on my face, and I feel myself fill up with…something. Feels like a flutter of wings in my mind, in my belly, in my hands, in my heart - and I know things, things about the way life used to be, campfire stories, the gryphon… she kisses me, and I feel like I know everything; I am dizzy and fair to bursting.

She pulls away, and all I can think to say is “I know who you are.”

She backs away, grinning and spinning. “Good for you, little cousin. Do you know who you are?”

“Not yet.”

She nods. “Right. But you’ll figure it out. Tell stories, Ara. You’ll know how. Tell stories wherever you go; bring story back to this place.”

“What about me?” Dela cries.

The girl cups Dela’s face in her hands. No kiss, just a smile. “Art. You already know how.”

She pulls away from Dela and bows grandiosely, feathers fluttering around her head. “And now I am off. Tell your stories. Don’t let mankind forget what they had - what they can have again. And when the time comes to leave this place - you’ll know what to do.”

And she takes off running. Half-running, half-skipping through the car graveyard, down the one straightaway, warm against my skin as she passes, and she makes this leap -

And she does not come down.

She leaps up into the sky, and wings spring forth from her back, full and muscular and feathers shimmering glossy black in the streetlight, the podlight, and with a flap of those wings she is airborne, and the rest of her shifts, and she is an enormous black bird. She circles once, making a sound that’s half-caw, half-laugh, and she is away, leaving a little shower of feathers in her wake, falling around me and Dela as we watch open-mouthed and full of wonder.

More "Flying Lessons".


I am not even looking at the auctions. There's too much to keep track of! dulcinbradbury is quite awesomely reminding everyone to post in the thread.

Shout-out to the pit crew! emilytheslayer has been cooking & providing for us all day. Adam is also rocking our world. Tory was here earlier, and mgrasso is swinging by a little later. Hopefully with pie. feste_sylvain is taking the sheer madness of the 4am-9am shift.

Dinner will be chili, beer bread, and mashed potatoes. (Lunch was a delicious red lentil soup.)

Kat: "Put your skirt down."
Me: "I *like* my skirt up."

I have just filmed an impromptu plastic-knife fencing duel.

Comments! Blogathonners live on comments!

Question answered!

What are some statistics on male rape/sexual assault?

I'm assuming that you mean male survivors rather than male perpetrators, as the stats are less available for male survivors - yes? Correct me if I'm wrong!

This I can tell you:

* About 3% of American men — or 1 in 33 — have experienced an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime.
* In 2003, 1 in every ten rape victims were male.
* 2.78 million men in the U.S. have been victims of sexual assault or rape.

So you see why it pisses me off when people try to call rape solely a women's issue, or handwave away the experiences of male survivors. They're out there. I know several personally. And the stigma here can make it harder for them to recover than for women - and it's pretty damn hard for women. Yes, it's mostly women, just like it's mostly not strangers. But sometimes it's strangers. And sometimes it's men.

A survivor is a survivor.

Got a question?
25th-Jul-2009 09:27 pm (UTC)
Its 97 degrees in my house, I'm knitting wool, and making coffee. Flying sounds pretty darn good right about now! *grins*
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