So many hours of light and warmth give Ace more of an excuse to spend the day outside, and she spends most of it practicing football drills, both to improve in the hopes of continuing to beat Wells, and also to try and wear herself out for once.
It's a gorgeous day, really. Everything's green and growing, the sun sparkles off the ripples in the lake, the shark pops up every once in a while, and it's deliciously warm.
Thus, the white shows up starkly, an almost painful contrast against the beauty of the day. Ace pauses to watch Blodwen warily. Don't antagonize, they've warned. Don't challenge her.
Instinctively Ace backs away as she would from any blast, putting distance between her and the explosion, but she'd forgotten about the football. Abruptly she loses her footing as she steps on it instead of the solid ground and goes over backward in a flurry of feathers.
...
Suddenly everything is too big, with even the football suddenly appearing monstrous. The landscape seems oddly flat, and there's more of it, spreading away behind her. She opens her mouth to protest, but all that comes out is an indignant rough cawing.
Her laughter is bright as light flashing from a cold blade, and silvery as ice-covered branches scraping against each other in a wind.
"A pretty pet it is that you will make, now -- why, and I shall even take you back to the palace beyond, where no one will find you. Not even your Raven will dare return there, not after what happened before, goodness no."
She reaches into a pocket, pulling out a twist of smoky-looking wire that expands into an oddly shining net.
"In time enough, you may even learn to sing for my amusement."
She has no idea what has happened, and Blodwen's voice now resembles rumbling thunder more than an intelligable voice, but suddenly the white giant is coming towards her and she'll be damned if she's going to stay put.
It is then Ace discovers the problem.
This isn't a body borrowed from Raven, with instincts and ability built in. This is her, and she doesn't know how to fly.
She whirls to face him, the cage swinging in her hand as she does-- and she has no trouble recognizing him even in this form. Not here, not now, not when she wears his blood at her throat.
Ice-blue eyes meet black ones, and she holds his gaze as she smiles in turn-- sweet and dangerous and heartstoppingly bright.
"Pretty bird." The light soft voice is musical and gentle, and not quite mocking. "Not upset, are you now, when I am simply using what you have yourself shown me the way of?"
In her shining silver cage, Ace clings to a bright bar to keep her balance as the world sways in a sickening manner. Still, the new voice is familiar, and Ace tilts her head to try and get a good look at the speaker.
Wikipedia says this about the Eurasian Jay: '...the jay is well known for its mimicry, often sounding so like a different species that it is virtually impossible to distinguish its true identity unless the jay is seen'. Perhaps that is why, when a sudden trill sounds from Blodwen's neatly crafted cage, it sounds most alarmingly like a mocking little 'Not for me, not for me!' when clearly, birds cannot talk.
She raises her chin defiantly as he moves toward her, and for just a second, the cage in her hand is almost forgotten.
In this strangely still moment there is nothing but the two of them, Raven and Rider, facing each other on grass as green as the palace where they last fought.
Raven is still, coattails fluttering in the rising breeze.
"Choices, yes, and consequences too." Years like wings. He takes another step forward, deliberate and steady. What does the motionless raven remember? "Possibly freedom, of one kind or another."
It's a gorgeous day, really. Everything's green and growing, the sun sparkles off the ripples in the lake, the shark pops up every once in a while, and it's deliciously warm.
Thus, the white shows up starkly, an almost painful contrast against the beauty of the day. Ace pauses to watch Blodwen warily. Don't antagonize, they've warned. Don't challenge her.
She'll just keep quiet until she's safely by.
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"Another idea it is entirely, that I have -- and you will help me with it, I do believe."
The White Rider cups one hand around the glass globe, as bloodstained smoke begins to boil wildly within it, and says sweetly,
"So fond it is that you are of the pretty bird -- your family, you have even called him. Family let it be, in truth."
She throws her other hand out, pointing at Ace with all five fingers spread, and the sudden flash of pink radiance is almost fire-bright.
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...
Suddenly everything is too big, with even the football suddenly appearing monstrous. The landscape seems oddly flat, and there's more of it, spreading away behind her. She opens her mouth to protest, but all that comes out is an indignant rough cawing.
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"A pretty pet it is that you will make, now -- why, and I shall even take you back to the palace beyond, where no one will find you. Not even your Raven will dare return there, not after what happened before, goodness no."
She reaches into a pocket, pulling out a twist of smoky-looking wire that expands into an oddly shining net.
"In time enough, you may even learn to sing for my amusement."
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It is then Ace discovers the problem.
This isn't a body borrowed from Raven, with instincts and ability built in. This is her, and she doesn't know how to fly.
Well, damn.
So she hops. Hop, hop, hopping for her life!
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The White Rider takes three quick steps, and with a snap of her wrist, the net falls into place over the jay.
Laughing, Blodwen bends down to scoop her prisoner from the ground.
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Then another thought occurs (they come more slowly now, there's not much room for them in the tiny little bird head).
She's got a big friggin' beak.
With a will, she sets to making as many holes in Blodwen's hands as birdly possible.
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--which shimmers and transforms into a cage of shining silver wire, with the jay locked securely inside.
Blodwen raises it higher in order to look in, a malicious smile curving her lips.
"Much better."
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Here we are.
Raven's voice is quiet, sharp, and oddly carrying in the open air.
"Not for her, I do not think."
He smiles, showing a quick flash of teeth.
"And not for me."
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Ice-blue eyes meet black ones, and she holds his gaze as she smiles in turn-- sweet and dangerous and heartstoppingly bright.
"Pretty bird." The light soft voice is musical and gentle, and not quite mocking. "Not upset, are you now, when I am simply using what you have yourself shown me the way of?"
Reply
Wikipedia says this about the Eurasian Jay: '...the jay is well known for its mimicry, often sounding so like a different species that it is virtually impossible to distinguish its true identity unless the jay is seen'. Perhaps that is why, when a sudden trill sounds from Blodwen's neatly crafted cage, it sounds most alarmingly like a mocking little 'Not for me, not for me!' when clearly, birds cannot talk.
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His voice is still quiet, black eyes bright and clear.
"But there was a time, I think, that you offered me a choice, yes?"
He takes a step forward.
"It is time, I think, for me to make it."
Time and past time, perhaps.
Perhaps.
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She raises her chin defiantly as he moves toward her, and for just a second, the cage in her hand is almost forgotten.
In this strangely still moment there is nothing but the two of them, Raven and Rider, facing each other on grass as green as the palace where they last fought.
Somewhere above them, a wind begins to rise.
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The white bitch can't have Raven.
Not for her.
It's not a fair trade.
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"Choices, yes, and consequences too."
Years like wings.
He takes another step forward, deliberate and steady.
What does the motionless raven remember?
"Possibly freedom, of one kind or another."
Another step.
"It is often so. Now."
He holds out one hand.
"Put her down."
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