Falling in Reverse [open] Jul 3, 2015 13:09:32 GMT -5
Post by connor on Jul 3, 2015 13:09:32 GMT -5
Some Marvel at Flight,
but I've Become Accustomed to Falling
Connor was out of territory again.
It was a habit he had decided not to fix ever since he had discovered the ring system in the Menagerie. He was a falcon after all. One of the fastest living things on the planet, and damnit the sky was his territory. As a Konducktor, he was often out of the mountains for days anyway, and he wasn’t important enough for anyone to notice he was gone. Truth be told, he didn’t care if someone did. He was already a prisoner in a cage. A fancy cage with a lot of amenities, but it was still a cage and he’d be damned if he’d let any person-or-not-person make him trapped.
It was a behavior that would probably get him killed one day, but the way things had been going for him, Connor didn’t rightly care.
One year. That’s how long he had been in this place. In falcon years that was a significant chunk of life, but Connor wasn’t even sure if those rules applied to him anymore. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he wasn’t a falcon. Not really. He was something in between-an Anthromorph according to what the Keepers called him. Part human, part Falcon. Connor hadn’t let himself think about what it meant to him and today wasn’t any exception.
He had taken a ride on an early morning thermal, letting the heat coming off the slabs of the Lawaii Mountains lift him up and into the air. It had taken him some time to learn to navigate out in the wild, but to be fair, this wasn’t the real wild. It was just a very clever simulation. As much time as he had spent around them, Connor was sure he would never understand this side of humanity. He could give them this much though: They could build one hell of a cage. Anywhere else Connor might have gone insane, but the Menagerie was different.
It had a City. And a park.
Delica Park wasn’t as big or as grand as Central Park, but it was a welcome and needed change from the grey crags and cold winds of the Mountains. There was even a small playground, swings and slides rusted from the exposure and the lack of use. It was enough for Connor though. Or, more accurately, it was close enough.
Grayson landed on one of the many overgrown trees in the park. There were signs on some of the more mature trees of a time where they were maintained and trimmed to the unrealistic standards that humans set upon nature, but there were some younger saplings that had grown unmolested and free. Connor felt as if there was a metaphor in there somewhere, but he lacked the will to look for it.
He closed his eyes and thought of home.
Lazy mornings in his nest in the upper west side. Hunting small rodents in Central park with his family. Pushing owls out of his trees, and letting them know were his sky lay. Even with all the time that had passed, Connor wouldn’t forget his home. He was a bird, and would do anything to remain as free as one.
He looked longingly at the dilapidated park and the destroyed signs of human life scattered about, but you wouldn’t know it. A falcon’s face shows no emotion, only a fierce scowl and unwavering eyes. As he sat in his perch though, Connor felt the all-too-human emotion of separation and loneliness.