Rapture On The Lonely Shore {Flora}

[chase]

THERE IS A RAPTURE ON THE LONELY S H O R E
...there is s o c i e t y where {none} intrudes.

Chase was doing something that he never thought he would. He was spiraling. In the air. With his wings. Yes, wings, ladies and gentlemen, the kid prodigy that was a freak show before is back, now an even bigger freak show with new and improved super flying abilities! thought Chase wryly, swooping through the air, enjoying the feeling of wind ruffling through his feathers. His feathers, thought Chase with a shiver. This whole thing wasn't something so easy to get used to. Before, in the land of normal people, he rarely shifted. It just wasn't so handy to do and there wasn't really a point, given that he was always busy with other things. There was school, and extra-curricular activities, and giving inspirational speeches to elementary schools about 'believing in your dreams regardless of setbacks' because apparently Asperger's was his personal setback, even though it hadn't really hurt him that much as far as he could tell. He was just a little weird. Socially awkward, perhaps. Other people were too, of course, but the difference was that not only did he have an excuse, but that he was now an inspiration, which is really just a word, Chase thought, meaning "person who has some serious issues but generally feels okay enough to ramble about it to children".

But now, now there was really no reason to stop him from shifting, other than his own discomfort when he thought about how the Keepers were probably watching him. Chase faltered a bit in the air when he considered it, glancing above him as if expecting to see a camera appear in the middle of the sky. He didn't like that. A part of him thought that probably they were of the opinion that he and others in there (and he could see why, sometimes) were not much more than animals. He didn’t entirely blame them. After all, they had practically arranged themselves into packs - or rings, as it was. In that, they weren’t really proving the scientists wrong. If they really cared about proving their humanity, they would have had some sort of widely agreed upon government - maybe a democracy - and then they would see. Even a socialist government would have been okay if done right. Then, later, people who were in the Menagerie (once everyone realized how human they were and how wrong they must have been about all of their animalistic roots) would be inspirational speakers. What could they say if they were inspirational speakers now? ‘Form gangs, kids. Then have gang wars. Things will probably turn out okay if not too many people get maimed or die.’

People died here. They went crazy!

Grimly, Chase couldn’t help but think that he had a good chance of falling into both categories. If he didn’t do either of those, he would probably just forget everything. Maybe even his name. Then if he shifted, maybe he would think he was an animal. He would stay that way and the Keepers would be right; maybe he was just an animal. Suddenly, Chase didn’t feel like flying anymore. He felt sick to his stomach. If that happened, he’d just be another animal guarding his territory.

On the subject of territories, he had no idea where his ended and begun. He’d started flying this morning. Now it was afternoon, and he didn’t know where he was, but he had a sinking feeling that it didn’t belong to the Fallen.

He wished he could forget his doubts. That’d be nice. His mind was like Swiss cheese - full of holes. The worst nightmares he had were just blackness. He would wander in blackness for hours and he would feel all of the holes around him. He would feel the darkness, thick and heavy like the air before a storm, like dark gray clouds ready to burst into a billion droplets; that’s what it was like, forgetting. It was the worst feeling. It felt like panic and it was like having a hole where something was before. It was like an empty space. It was like an empty space that should be filled. It wasn’t as easy as forgetting completely - forgetting that something was even there. When people see holes, they know something was there. In those dreams, he was consumed by holes, by black, by emptiness. He utterly consumed with not knowing. It was terrifying. All of it was terrifying. He shut his eyes mid-flight, the sick feeling in his stomach growing. Chase knew he needed to stop it. He had to focus. Focus and open his eyes and forget about forgetting.

He opened his eyes.

And flew straight into a tree.

With an impact that damaged mostly his wing, he let out a shriek (and even that sounded kind of pretty in a bird-ish way, actually) as he spiraled toward the ground. But as he braced himself for impact, forgetting that he did have the ability to just fly away if need be, he was expecting solid ground. Not water.

Splash.

Chase’s eyes flew open. Panicked, he shifted back, realizing in a rush that he had hit some sort of lake and that a bird couldn’t swim as well as a boy could. Yet, when he changed back, he found himself thrashing about in the water aimlessly, his lithe form slowly sinking into the water that only seemed to tug him down. Why wasn’t he swimming? Why wasn’t he going to the surfa - oh no. He couldn’t have. He knew swimming. He could swim! He had won awards for swimming, for competing nationally even! No, no, no, he knew this, he knew- and then his head dipped below the surface and he found himself holding his breath, looking around him frantically for something, anything to hold on to. He had to remember how. Think, think, what was first, what step was first, he tried, but as much as he tried, there were only blanks, only dark expanses where swimming lessons, strategies, and competitions should have been. Fear squeezed his heart and it felt like an ice cube was sliding, slithering down his raw throat into the pit of his empty stomach, burning him with chill; he desperately tried to remember the last time that he’d even gone swimming when - when - his eyes felt kind of heavy. They fluttered, and he was suddenly sleepy. The water was just a blanket as he drifted downward. Maybe… maybe a nap, Chase thought, his limbs limp and doll-like. He felt like he was floating. He was floating down a rabbit hole and the white rabbit would be there and the red queen and maybe Alice if he was lucky, but only if he was good and went to sleep, only… only… Just a nap… I can remember later, I can… I can solve this later…

Word Count:// 1,143
OOC:// Sorry, long post. ^^; Still, I'm excited. 8D
Credits:// "Apostrophe to the Ocean" by Lord Byron

[Deleted]

The lake was cold with winter, but Flora had grown used to it. She’d been living in it for nearly a week now. This she knew because of a calendar-like chart she’d etched into the frozen ground. As far as calendars went, hers was jumbled and inaccurate; she had no way of knowing how long she’d been unconscious in the Keeper’s laboratory. She assumed it to be quite a while, as they’d managed to take her two perfectly fine, healthy, separate forms and merge them into a freak.

Her stomach twisted at that unwelcome (but familiar) thought, and she turned onto her back and stared up at the sky, looking for a distraction.
He came, right on cue. A pretty bird flew overhead, making spirals and loop de loops. He looked like he was having so much fun; Flora wondered if he was a shifter or a retro or just a plain old bird. Then she wondered how her situation would be different if the Keepers had fastened wings to her back instead of fins. Flying seemed like a wonderful thing to her; in the air there were no limits, aside from the atmosphere. It must be true freedom, She thought, though she hated airplanes and being in them. The water was the place where she felt at home.

The bird stopped his roller coaster maneuvers and Flora lost interest in him. She pulled at a few of the frozen ferns by the lakeshore, but not hard enough to tear them out. A few days ago she’d been at such a loss for things to do she’d pulled out a plant and began to weave a basket out of it. She now had eight of them, held down with rocks at the bottom of the lake. She didn’t know what to do with them, but maybe she could gift some to the Nilda, as a thank-you for letting her stay in the lake.
What a pack of canines could want with a poorly woven basket, she didn’t know. Maybe they could use them as hats. Flora was struck with an amusing image of all the wolves and foxes and coyotes and dogs sitting around a tea table with her baskets on their heads.

There was a loud squawk then. The only sign Flora gave of hearing it was a widening of her eyes and a stillness of her limbs. The hand on the fern fell back into the water, but the splash it made was nothing compared to that of the nightingale. The anthro dropped her legs deeper into the lake so she was in more of an upright position. The commotion over by where the bird fell in seemed much too big for such a small bird, and she wondered about that for a moment. It must be a shifter, Flora realized, and not long after that came the understanding that some humanoid creature was drowning over there. Worried, she glanced around, waiting for someone to run in and save him, but no one came.
She was treading water so fiercly now that her legs were beginning to cramp up, but she couldn’t rest; she had to see what was going to happen to the bird-shifter, who was going to come.

A little bit too late Flora realized that she was the only one who had seen what had happened. She was the one who could chose to save the shifter or let him die. The splashes had calmed down, which she took to be a bad sign. Flora’s webbed hands fluttered in the water, unsure of what to do. She hadn’t even started her lifeguard training course; she didn’t know how to save a drowning person. But it couldn’t be that hard, could it?
Weighted down with a sudden responsibility, she dived past the surface of the lake and swam, using her newfound speed. The water was murky, but she was so used to the lake that she noticed right away the alien presence of the boy. Flora zipped over to him, noting with a growing fear that he was unusually still. She wrapped her hands (well… fins) around his abdomen and struggled to the surface. But it just seemed to be getting farther and farther away… Flora broke through at last, and couldn’t help but think that it would’ve been so much easier to save him if he’d stayed a bird.

She tugged him to the shore, doing her best to keep his mouth and nose above the water, though she was splashing all over. The fish anthromorph pushed him as far out of the water as she could, then crawled onto the bank and pulled him until his feet were out.
She’d forgotten how cold the air was. Flora was racked with shivers as she pulled his shoes and socks and shirt off. This was what she was supposed to do, wasn’t it? Take off the wet clothes and put dry ones one. But there were no dry clothes. She looked around, again waiting for someone, anyone to come and save this boy, but again she was the only one in sight. She glanced at him, wondering if she should perhaps give him CPR (she’d taken a few classes in that), but a look at her finned hands shot down that idea. She slid part way into the water and settled in to watch him.

---

Word count; 899
Ooc; Gah. Sorry for the wait x.e and not my best, either XD And long… ALSO, if anything in this isn’t okay let me know and I’ll change it <3

[chase]

WHEN FOR A MOMENT, LIKE A DROP OF R A I N
...he sinks into thy d e p t h s with {bubbling} groan.

There was some slight pressure on his chest, and Chase wasn't sure what it was. He felt that maybe it was a rock. Two large rocks on either side floating to the top - but no, that couldn't be right. Big rocks like that wouldn't float. Wouldn't they sink? He wouldn't be floating up like this if they were rocks, so what were they? Flotation devices? Maybe he just had everything wrong from the get go and he had really just dived into the community pool at home. That made more sense. He dived really fast, got a little confused, and when he sank, a lifeguard was there to save him with flotation devices and was bringing him up, and when he opened his eyes - they were so heavy - when he opened his eyes, he would see his sister looking down at him, worried. Are you all right? she would ask, and he would sputter, because there was probably water in his lungs and not fire as it seemed, and then say, I'm just fine, A, don't worry. These flotation devices are really effective.

Then something burst above his head and he felt his mouth open on its own, crying independently for air as his mind remained in a fog. The lifeguard was pulling him. A lifeguard with thin arms though. Maybe it wasn't a lifeguard after all and it was the ocean and the thing that was making all of those noises like waves in his ears was a mermaid. He hoped she didn't think he was a prince or something. That almost close to never happened. Besides, the prince never got caught under the spell, did he? It was always the beautiful virgin princess that got caught under the nasty spell with the evil sorcerer that needed to be vanquished. Chase didn't think he could vanquish anyone. Not a sorcerer, certainly. He was the one with the spell and she was saving his life.

At once there was ground under his back and he felt something like skin being peeled from his chest and arms, and then weight from his feet - more skin from his toes. It wasn't the bad sort of skin though to remove, but more like peeling skin after a sunburn. He felt lighter suddenly. Colder. It was winter and the ground was frozen and it suddenly registered with him that it wasn't his skin that was peeling off, but his clothes. The lifeguard/mermaid/princess has peeled some of his clothes off. But why? Wouldn't he freeze like that? Yes? No? There was a rule somewhere about this kind of situation, about when people are drowning, but he forgot what that was. A tremor shook his chest and a great rasping cough left his mouth. His lungs hurt. His eyes felt like they had sandbags attached to them and he was feeling dizzy enough to just fade away...

Chase's eyes opened. He sat up and coughed, his throat burning as he tried to remove the water from his lungs. Slowly his mind began to clear and he recognized that he only seemed to be wearing his pants, now. He smoothed his hair back with one hand, still coughing. He was having a feeling - that paranoid feeling one has after watching a horror movie. Chase felt half alone. Not alone, but half alone. For a moment, he couldn't see anyone; well, he wasn't looking so hard either. Then... then he noticed something in the water.

Eyes. Pretty eyes. Pretty eyes and black hair and a girl.

"H-hello?" Chase sputtered, looking at the girl with his eyes slightly squinted. He shivered. "Who's there?"

Word Count:// 609
OOC:// It's all good. =)
Credits:// "Apostrophe to the Ocean" by Lord Byron