【 tailwind 】clair & falkner
The place was crowded: chock full of tourists and family and even screaming children, spoiled brats with uppity parents and no sense of anything. It made Clair sick just thinking about it—about how these people just went along their normal, everyday lives without spending a single second on the world around them. They could be anywhere, not just at the National Park, and still they'd focus on their toys and lunchboxes and midday joggercise.
Clair frowned. And huffed. And stormed her way past the crowd, nearly knocking someone over in the process. What did it matter? They experienced no worse during weekend sales at the department store. If they'd had enough brains, they'd see that the weird lighting in those buildings was strange and unnatural, sapping at their spirits and tainting the environment. If she hated it so much, a nasty little voice whispered, then why was she here? She ignored it. Didn't have an answer for it.
Maybe she just liked visiting every once in a while. That wasn't it, naturally. This time, like all times, Clair was running errands for her grandfather. She grew weary of the constant noise and complaints and went for a walk to the only solace she knew: the National Park. Its sunny skies and clear air was unlike the city to its south, with trees and human-less expanse that seemed to stretch for miles, even if it only happened to be a few acres large. She tried not to think about that.
The real reason she was here was much more difficult to grasp. A desperate need to get out of Blackthorn clawed at her daily, a nagging fear that she couldn't shake off. Restless nights and fitful dreams. Darkness loomed over her like the grey and fed off her exhaustion.
Tall, dark—attractive in the worst ways. A cashmere voice with all the vehemence of a Krookodile. Its words were cruel and terrible and haunted her like his presence could not. And undeniably true.
Terrible. Horrible, to live like this, of doubt and unease from the one you thought you hated most. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this but it did anyway. It did anyway and there was nothing you could do about it except turn around and fight or sit back and take it. Accept it.
Clair could do neither. Vigorously patting her cheeks, she exhaled, recovering her breath and her thoughts. She wasn't afraid. If anything, she was concerned, which was far different from being afraid. Any simpleton could tell you that. That didn't stop her from being concerned, though. About her life, and the things she'd said, and did, or could have done. Should have done.
Gods. There she was again, focusing on things she re-a-ally didn't care about. At the edge of the National Park, where the domesticated green met the wild, birds sang the cheery tune of a choir, highs and lows of a heavenly being. Trees and shrubs grew heartily in abandoned bliss. Here, far from prying strangers or curious family, Clair finally started to relax.
Dragons reigned in these wispy wilds. Untouchable, she feared none. Except him. It was unthinkable that only he could make her feel that way--not her grandfather, not her cousin, not her insecurities, but Giovanni, a man far from any moral redemption. Her head spun, a vortex of confusion. Clair collapsed on a rock. Tried to breathe. Found she couldn't.
She was far away at the Lake of Rage when the birds began to wail. Soon after there was a thunk, and then another. And then the wail became a scream, a bullet through the heart. Clair shot to her feet, recognizing the sound. A sound like that only meant one thing.
She raced through the underbrush, the prickly thorns raking across bare legs. Mourning birds erupted from the trees like fireworks. Stupid, stupid, stupid—if she hadn’t been absolutely pitiful, she would have been there by now! And then she saw it. Crumpled beneath the base of a tree were half a dozen hatchlings, their feathered matted and red. Clair kneeled beside them. Brushed her fingers through their sticky down.
She usually didn’t interfere with the circle of life. She let nature take its course, for only then could the world be one. But here… Her eyes scanned the canopy. A dark shadow lingered hungrily above them. Or vengefully. Clair’s heart hardened into stone. This creature played with its food like it was a game, purely for fun. She frowned. Stood. Finally noticed the young man behind her—Falkner. He looked a little worse for the wear, too.
“Falkner.” Clair greeted him with a subtle nod. Moved aside to let him examine the birds. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to say. “I’m… sorry. For your loss,” she added awkwardly. Frowning, she looked at the canopy again. The shadow stared down at her. It was too high for her to guess what it was.
