avian american

max ride | affiliated with concordium | partnered with shuu sakamaki

[avianes-blog]

i'm gonna put all of my pre-event posts on hold for a while!! easier for me. thanks a bunch!!

[avianes-blog]

Worried about ominous voices? No. Not even a little bit. Still with limited flying space, but it's more than before. Which is nice.

          Max, despite being, well, a caged bird, felt freer. She glides across the space just at the treetops with a hawk's ease, at moments fluttering away the precipitation mounding upon her feathers. Finding her partner was probably important, with her overhead view honed in on moving figures feet below, but damn, she'd missed this.

[avianes-blog]

menial nonsense about the anatomy of an arm

She's been thinking a lot. She's worried.

          Of course. She's been the essential mother of an outcast group of birds living out on a cliff's edge for years since Jeb vanished like nothing. To be snatched away so suddenly, without consciousness of the event... Perhaps she'd sorted out that this building wasn't some new wing granted by a corrupt government nutjob, but the Flock wasn't here. That was enough reason to worry beyond rational thought.

          There's all this weird stuff going on with her arm. Weird loopy engraving that still kind of felt weird, like it hadn't settled, and a tracking chip completely unbeknownst to her, all nestled in her muscle tissue. Weird stuff is happening. And she doesn't know what to make of the fact that she just cannot stop staring at her arm, like it'll fall off at any given time or get gnawed from the bone by an Eraser rounding the corner. What an arm.

And look, another arm, just right there, in front of her spot on the rec room couch.

❝ ... Got beef or something? Spot's claimed. ❞

[avianes-blog]

nice fence you got there, neighbor

She's been staring up, up, for a long time.

          The sky, as it always had, still appeared boundless, spacious; the muscles stretched across the paper-thin joints of her wings twitched achingly, yearning for a taste of the tailwind. But she knew better.

          She knew better than to believe that they who controlled her life at current hadn't thought this through. Wings pretty obviously overcome fences every time; surely there remained some boundary to taint the tauntingly open space. Some vagary would await, like for dogs to train them to say within their domestic limits. As vile as it felt, she didn't want to become fried chicken.

Or, y'know whatever kind of bird. Bird jokes.

          Giving up on the endeavor, Max concealed her feathered wonders beneath her jacket once more, only to swivel a heel and be immediately greeted by another. Quick, diversion.

❝ Uh ... Nice weather, huh? ❞ Goofy grin.

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

[hitokilling]

Emotions clamoring, colliding — ones that didn’t belong to him — panic, anger, confusion. The new-found pain from his wrist… somehow, without needing words, he had gained the ability to peer into a heart momentarily… and couldn’t help but tremble briefly at the sensation, cursing inwardly at the implications. He had yet to experience this, and now… 

He wanted no part of this fragility.

Distracted by the abruptness of the contact and his back still flush against the wall of the hallway, he had almost missed the strange avian creature’s lips moving in the guise of a question directed toward him. And before he could stop himself from taking part —

"…Shuu."

Idiot. The last thing he had wanted in this prison was any semblance of an attachment to someone, despite having been forced to bear a connection that implied… no, explicitly stated, now proven, that they were indefinitely linked. His normally calm, distant demeanor was wildly being thrown into disarray….

And he hated it.

What was this feathered moron doing, flying around the halls so dangerously… not that it was his business whether she attempted to crash and burn, but — no. Suddenly, it was his business. If she was going to be this much of a pain… he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Calm down… were you trying to kill yourself? Not that I care, but… it’s tiring to watch." His way of complaining.

[avianes-blog]

Calm down? Was he telling her to calm down?

          Yeah, because in the face of torture and tweaking she's totally going to calm down. Immediate impressions weren't polite, but she was typically ace at ignoring social stigmas. Wings and everything.

❝ I'm actually trying not to get killed, for your information! Why should I calm down? Because you tell me to? ❞

          Her immediate impression was that this guy was affiliated with the School, and she should split right now, but that would be letting her adrenaline speak for her. When did that ever work out?

          Okay, it usually did work out for the best, but there were plenty of reasons to believe that her instincts were wrong for the first time. There was the fact that despite her, in fact, being a winged human, he made no attempt to apprehend her. Any scientist, insane or not, would snap at the opportunity.

          There was also this sensation that surged through her nerves every time she happened to look up at him, impelling her to meet the gaze of the walls. This was different, and she'd never felt this before, and it, oddly enough, brought focus to the lightly searing intricacy curling about her wrist. Some of the impersonal monologue from earlier she'd shut out with red-eyed hatred began reverberating, suddenly making some sense.

It's your senses wanting to be closer --

-- it's a bunch of nonsense, that's what it is.

          ❝ Shuu, ❞ she breathes out, ignoring the lack of impending doom at her back. She seems to have conciliated, having sneaked in a rational thought following the impact. ❝ ... It doesn't really matter. I'm just... worried. This place gives me a bad feeling. And I need to find my... my friends. ❞ Family. Same thing.

[avianes-blog]

slim pickings

Bird people eat a lot.

          Something to do with how their bodies are composed, or the way their metabolism incinerates human sustenance. They just eat way too much.

          Max doesn't even bother with a plate or a chair, bless her heart. In a chronic motion she stuffs her arm into the bag of bread, crumbs sticking to the leather of her jacket and scattering across the linoleum, then just shoves all of the sandwich parts into her mouth at once. Chew, chew swallow, then on to the next one. Repeated until she felt bad for acting a glutton.

          Somewhere in between her fourth and sixth and a half, someone was in the doorway. Though, it seemed like she didn't bother to notice until her eyes flickered sideways with head tilted, bottle of mustard suspended above her half-stuffed face

          Oddly embarrassed for her ravenous self, she opts to gently set the mustard bottle upon the island and nod toward the array of ingredients, hoping the other party will pick up on her kind gesture. Hey, how's it goin', guy.

[avianes-blog]

i'm thinking i'll mush together some real short starters bc this bird nerd needs friends

like for one! i'll cap at.... three i think.

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

[spiritsighting-blog]

Everything had gone way too fast for Erik to understand. Blue eyes stared in shock as the human…thing…stood up, her gaze looking at him…with…worry? He could not understand, and the puzzled expression did not go away even as she asked for his wellbeing.

If he took her wings out of the picture, she would look like a normal human, he thought absentmindedly, eyes gazing up and down at the wings. Pushing the response to the side, his brain immediately tried to analyze this logically. Twenty years ago the project for human advancement had begun- creating Erik and other children. Since then, science had advanced at an exponentially faster rate than before.

So, logically thinking, who says there can’t be…people with bird features?

"I am fine…" He responded, somewhat absentminded still. Part of him still wondered to just what kind of facility he had been transferred into if they had been able to do something so…fiction-like? Or could she be like him, a test subject that had been unknowingly taken to another place for more tests?

He couldn’t wait. Erik wanted an answer. "Did they make you here? And before who is up to speed?" He asked, gaze wandering around to see if there was anyone around. "Despite the voice’s somewhat intimidating and hollow tone, I do not believe that they wish to harm us."

A pause, before clarifying: "Or at least that is how the last head scientist in my facility was. Now that I’ve been transferred, I am not quite sure."

[avianes-blog]

          Max felt objectified, in a way. It seemed that her wings were becoming the only important thing to anyone. She can't point fingers, or be mad; it's pretty bizarre, but you'd get annoyed, too, if it was the only piece of you anyone bothered to pay attention to. I'm a person too.

... Right.

          Her grip, having been tensing upon the fabric of his clothing until her fingertips nearly dug into his collarbone, released and fell to her sides. They swung a second, trying to focus her vertigo into a singular thought. A lot was happening, wasn't it? And she swore she could hear something in the distance... Like footsteps? Not really. But paranoid minds think paranoid things.

         ❝ Yeah, they did. But you don't think they want to hurt us? Do you see that thing on your arm? They'll probably be cutting you open next week to figure out what it did to your nervous system or some bull-- bullcrap, so we can't stick around here long, okay? ❞

          Optics trail the sensation along her arm, having been masked by the thought of ten worse things than a brand. That last sentence of his sure catches her by the heartstrings, though. Not in a good way, not at all.

          Transferred? They moved an experiment... from somewhere else? There's another School out there, demolishing unborn children's hopes and dreams on another coast? And they're trading them around? Disgusting. She wanted to vomit. And as much as she didn't want to ask, she'd ask. She never listened to her conscience.

          ❝ ... Tell me about this other facility. But come on, let's walk and talk. ❞ More like soft jogging, as Max begins dragging a boy caught unawares a distance down the hallway.

[essentiafurto-blog-blog]

She let out another giggle. The girl was interesting, perhaps more than the fox had thought she was initially. "Max, is it? It’s nice to meet you~ I’m Ahri." Of course the other hadn’t asked for her name but it was only correct of her to introduce herself as well. She’d learned that from observing other humans, such as Irelia and Karma back in Ionia. “Oh, you see… Where I come from, there are beings such as you. Not that I’m saying you’re not human, but those wings on your back… Well. They’re familiar.” It wasn’t like her to be honest but, why not be like that at least just this one time.

[avianes-blog]

Boy, did she know it. Max was interesting with a capital feathers.

          Initially, she coasted on a mildly piqued interest from the furry appendages in too many a number to be naturally grown. Styled, surgically modified? Who knew, but every thought that traced back to anyone in cottony white garb from the face down was not a happy one, and in turn were shut out. She'd choose to aim focus on 'where I come from'.

          Which may or may not imply the School, but given how well she walked and talked and wasn't a garble of stitches collapsing on itself, that could be cleared from the list of possibilities. The School, creating something verbose that survived beyond a week's time? Unlikely.

          ❝ What kind of place is that? ❞ A mutant haven? Probably Europe or something. She'd always heard interesting things about that place, and believe her, the United States was a country with a very high mutant mortality rate.

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

[spiritsighting-blog]

The sound had been the first thing that had alerted Erik’s attention. At first, nothing more than a dim sound, easily mistaken by the sound of his own footsteps. Then, a louder sound, similar to the clattering of metal together- increasing in speed and volume. And the experiment would have left it as such, if he didn’t feel as if the sound was getting closer.

No. With focused ears, the male realized that it wasn’t simply an illogical assumption nor the effects of drowsiness.

                                                 There was someone-

-Wrong. Something was coming. And fast. Immediately, Erik pressed his back against the wall, crouching into a small ball on the floor. The estimated time of seconds was not nearly enough for anyone to analyze just what the sound belonged to and even less the threat that it posed to him. So this is how the flight or fight response works. In a life where all had been mostly dictated for him, the sudden fright of the situation had made his adrenaline burst through the roof.

He decided that the feeling of his heart thumping loudly against his chest was most absolutely not enjoyable. Not even close.

And then, the crash. With his head tucked into his arms, Erik did not have a chance to catch sight of just what the source of the noise was. And even when blue eyes did manage to peek out of curiosity, they could not believe what they saw: wings. Large wings, attached to something that…seemed…

                                                          Like a human.

Impossible. Standing up shakily, Erik could not believe what he was seeing. After all, humans did not have wings. Confused, he approached the …thing with incredible caution. With wide eyes and a shock filled voice, he finally asked: "What are you?"

[avianes-blog]

A what.

          Not uncommon to be called a what, but still slightly offensive, hitting up a meek nobody's mouth.

          Typically, whitecoats and Erasers weren't meek or nobodies. Genetic sociopaths, but they were undeniably geniuses in comparison to the feeble-minded humans, completely unaware of the mutant children being birthed and killed, just eight miles north of the Badwater Basin.

          Though, a few factors of the first stagnated seconds here calmed her significantly, although she honestly shouldn't be lowering her guard too much. Especially considering the screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs part that was going on a minute ago. Probably dog whistle alarms were going off and there were super suave Eraser men and women (and children, even) just around the corner, maws drooling everywhere. She just couldn't tell. She knew, but she couldn't tell.

          Max, buff and kick-butt as she very obviously was, she does have weaknesses. Yeah, believe it or not. One of those is when you've got a kid, curled up in a ball, meaning he's going to upchuck, cry, or both. That really struck a chord for her, given her whole dark and meaningless past, getting prodded and stabbed and being that same kid, in the corner of a cage, suppressing hiccups and snot. And the queen of saving the day herself just couldn't stand to let him be dog food.

          ❝ Human. Sort of. Human with wings. ❞ That's the vaguest it could get without really being vague. That goes to show you. Her arms jut out to secure him by the shoulders, unsure if he was going to collapse to the ground. ❝ Are you okay? You need to get out of here, before they're up to speed. ❞ Which could be seconds or days. This was all a test, after all.

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

[hitokilling]

Continuously returning to the start of a song he couldn't seem to forget, Shuu was, as usual, lost to the rest of the world. Dead to it in a sense. Soft, blue eyes watching the lines on the wall without a single care, he passed through halls that, to him, seemed to be only filled with notes that were rising in tempo, the soul-stirring shriek of a violin in the second verse the only sound alive… 

Until a screech managed to break his concentration, his enjoyment — a screech loud enough to hear over the music. Without much effort, Shuu lazily turned to face the source of the noise, glancing straight down the intersected hallway.

It was… some sort of harpy? Or a demon familiar… he wasn’t particularly interested in its origins, where it had come from, where it was going — the only thing that mattered right then and there was the fact that it was soaring towards him at an alarming rate —

A speeding bullet of flesh and flight.

Before he could even begin to prepare for the impact, an abrupt lead-weight thrashed from within, his emotions being thrown into strange turmoil, what was…, — this sudden panic, utter confusion and terror. Similar to waking from one of his many, many nightmares, as if he had been staring straight into the fire this very second. At once he was freezing in place when normally he would have remained collected, tumbling, tumbling… until the winged-creature screaming in abject horror slammed him back into the wall.

The spiraling mark on both wrists, the one word reverberating in his mind as the two bodies had been tossed and were tangled upon the cold hard floor, the soft brush of a feather grazing his face —

Partner.

[avianes-blog]

          Each muscle and nerve ending of every usable part of her body tensed to the limits of her skin, threatening bursting at the freckle-flecked seams. Yet, with all of the panicked paroxysms about her insides, there was no evident movement of anything but the thrashing of her adrenalized heart. To which, she had to wonder: Why am I not halfway across the country right now? Why am I just here, laying on top of this--

          Only the imminent déjà vu roused her from the meeting of their two bodies, and even then was not enough to find solid footing; she jolts backwards into a position best defined as half sitting, half balancing on her wings, which wasn't exactly pleasant on the shoulder blades. Oops.

          For as much as her conscience pleaded for a hit and run, she found some sort of mesmerism in this blond-haired, blue-eyed crash test dummy. So much so that if it weren't for the lack of feral mannerisms and the fact that she still possessed a trachea, she'd believe them an Eraser. But if that alone could win her trust, well, she might as well be chatting with the Grim Reaper over tea and biscuits.

          It felt almost like... this was supposed to happen. And Max isn't about the destiny shtick, which really says a lot about what's going down. Like she was really meant to be looking this person dead in the eye, panic-and-bemusement soup stewing in her gut.

         ❝ ... Who are you? ❞ An inquiry that falls away in a slipstream, with tongue revving faster than the mind could process.

          She knew encounters like these, the seemingly fated ones-- they typically meant something along the lines of getting some answers, vague as they were, or escalating in a matter of half-seconds to a gyre of deadly combat. The former sounded nice.

[essentiafurto-blog-blog]

The fox moved closer to the stranger, golden orbes fixated upon her body, particulary her back. Indeed, she did resemble Kyle. And for some reason, that made her feel better. Not for the fact that there weren’t many people around who weren’t human but, for the fact that she resembled someone from Runeterra. It almost made her feel at home.

She laughed. "Well, well. A feisty one." Delightful. "I’m Ahri. And don’t worry, I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing?" She giggle once more. “Would you give me your name now?”

[avianes-blog]

          A real wild mustang, Max was. You know. If horses were birds. But that's a horse of a different color; it was just a distasteful metaphor.

         ❝ Nah. I've had enough of biting for one lifetime. ❞ However long a bird person's lifespan is, anyway. For now, she'll continue to spew vague out-of-context phrases until she's right done.

         ❝ Most prefer Max. ❞ Others prefer plenty of derogatory terms that aren't appropriate for the younger viewers at home, which are generally hissed from the muzzles of a snot-nosed dog brother and his killer posse. ❝ Why so interested? ❞

          Keep acting like she's not staring at your back. If you act normal, you will be. What a nice and very pointless philosophy.

[essentiafurto-blog-blog]

avianes

Another strange creature this was. Certainly not a human. In fact, she smelled just like Kyle and Morgana did. "Hey." The fox called out. “Can I have your name, sweetie?”

[avianes-blog]

          Our resident bird gal pulls a turn-and-face, mouth half open in preparation for a retort of the highest caliber of hatred. It's partially faded upon sight of flickering furry appendages, making her feel much less like a freak. Which didn't happen often, and she kind of appreciated not being the only animally deformed creature feature in this place.

But then again, there are bloodthirsty maniacs that claim to be half tortoise. You never know.

❝ Well, I don't know, honey sugar bear, depends. ❞ There's a curt nod.  

❝ You first. ❞ Don't sweetie me, I'm not five.

[royalmylk]

rips open shirt to reveal another shirt that says i love maximum ride and roars i love max so much i dont know why i suddenly wanted to draw her? no one draws her all beat up/ bruised or having messy hair??? or from what ive seen? but anyway max from maximum ride!

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

[radiantevolution-old]

It was rude to stare, he had been taught this much, but he couldn’t help but look on in awe as the wings that had seemingly come into existence from nowhere just as easily folded back against the girl’s back as if they never had been there. That must’ve been…convenient?

"…What does that mean? Is something coming…?"

He didn’t doubt his ability to defend himself, but being confined in a building with many other innocent people wandering about didn’t make for the most ideal conditions.

"Wait, slow down… What’s a whitecoat? An Eraser?" He felt more lost by the second, but the point she was trying to make was clear. "I mean, I want to escape as badly as you do, but it seems like we can’t. At least, not yet. I’ve been looking for a way since I got here, but I haven’t been too successful…"

[avianes-blog]

Was he being serious? Or was this some sort of diversion they established to slow her down?

          Given the true bewilderment on their face, stupid ol' Max accepted that this situation, bizarre as it was, would only serve to get worse. This reminded her vaguely of those dreams she'd have sometimes, where she'd just be running, running, running, only to end up in the maws of something manipulatively destructive or self-destructive in general. And then she'd wake up and hug Angel just a little closer to her chest as she remembered: that was real life.

          ❝ You know? Scientist freaks, spawn of h-e-double-toothpicks, typically followed by a pack of mutts? This sinking in or anything? ❞ Why wouldn't it be? Why wouldn't someone stuck here all the same as her not know anything about its inhabitants and their being incarnate of the Devil himself? 

          Though, let's be honest with ourselves a second, Max-- do you really recognize this place? Honestly? Does this seem like the School to you?

          And let's talk about this thing going on on her arm, and a vertigo-type sensation seemingly dragging her towards another room entirely. What a series of unfortunate events, as Lemony Snicket would probably say, or rather groan if you quoted it at him.

❝ Who are you? ... Never mind, better question. What are you? ❞ Let's try that.

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

[radiantevolution-old]

Deep in thought and trying to process what little information he had found about this place (read: none at all), Tasuku hadn’t noticed the body speeding at him until it was nearly upon him and a collision was imminent.

"…?!"

He had raised his arms in reflex to brace for the imminent impact, but it never came. All that buffeted him was a sudden, unprecedented gust following the sound of something unfurling, and he dared peek—

"…Wings?"

Tasuku had seen all manner of things so it shouldn’t have been all too surprising, yet…the people he had seen wandering the premises had nothing of the like. Is she from a monster world, then…?

So transfixed with the feathery limbs was he, though, that he didn’t take in the expression of near hysteria on the young woman’s face. 

"Wait, I mean… Are you alright? What happened? Were you being chased…?"

[avianes-blog]

Blue hair? Red eyes? What was this, some Saturday morning cartoon?

          Regardless, this guy didn't look older than like, ten, and the fact that he seemed thoroughly dumbfounded by the idea that there were people with huge feathery things sticking out of their shoulders was staggering. At most, this kid could be an test subject himself, hence the unnaturality of his features and his whatnots. But this one could have a chance; seemed like they hadn't gotten to the brunt of the experimentation yet. She could get him out, too. Big hero Max.

          ❝ ... No, not yet. Can't get too hopeful. ❞ As quickly as they'd come, her wings retract, folding against the seam of her spine. With dearest hesitance, Max surges forward nearer to he who asks, keeping words on the down low, adrenaline making syllables aflame with whispered intensity. Sort of like the burning along the course of her arm, but that's not important yet.

          ❝ Look, the whitecoats might be here any minute, you've gotta get out. Now. I mean, if you wanna stick around and be an Eraser chewtoy, that's your deal. But I'm getting the heck out of here. ❞

Ah, bird mutant jargon.

[avianes-blog]

a stinking cesspool of evil

This is the School.

                                      I'm back at the School.

                                                                                  That's it-- I'm going to die.

          A winged beast (or for a better term, a mutant freak) charges through, busting through each set of doors her bruised knuckles could belabor. Its trembling legs seize ground, hurling its body forward with staccato breathing and cloudy reasoning. Detection was imminent; escaping didn't have to be clean, it just had to be quick.

          Childhood memories edge their way to the forefront, sort of a life-flashing-before-your-eyes type deal. Fun memories of scattering about all directions, lab-rats in their designated mazes, being told to escape or be devoured limb by limb by fucking dog people with a thirst for birdie blood. Great times all around. Even greater knowing they'd caught her, and now she was back at the School, and it would be the same thing all over again. Surgeries, DNA tests, rat maze, repeat. Living the good life.

          And for the real icing on the cake, Max had no idea where the Flock was. To mutant bird people, missing means dead. Missing almost always means dead. And given the leaden ball weighing on her body and soul, something was wrong. So very wrong.

❝ Fang! Izzy! ❞ Doors rush past in blurs. ❝ Nudge! Gazzy! Angel! Somebody! ❞

          A sudden ricochet of sound could be heard throughout the halls of the institution, a screeching and melting of the soles of her shoes. Panic solidifies her nerves, and her eyes grow ten times. There's only one way to avoid this collision, given her velocity; bronzed wings extend from her back, acting as a speed buffer. Whoever this was, they weren't from the Flock. But now she couldn't do anything about it.

I'm going to die.