Post by Quill on Feb 20, 2009 21:46:11 GMT -5
AN: I just wanted something to kind of hint at Nevermore's personality. Picked a normal human character who will probably never appear in the roleplays.
He would never have called himself observant. He never looked for the signs. He would just see it out of the corner of his eye. A shadow; a flicker of something that would be gone before he could see it properly. It was always there, some ill omen of what was to come.
He was about twelve when he first saw it. He had been riding his bike down the quiet neighborhood street, as he did almost every day. He noticed a flash of something- a sleek black bird landing on a tree branch just out of the corner of his eye. Not ten minutes later he had taken a turn too tightly and lost control, going home with a skinned knee and a cut on his arm.
He saw it again when he was sixteen, driving for the first time. He had been paying attention to the road when a large black shape fell across the hood of his old, hand-me-down Chevy. The bird landed on a telephone wire, not even flinching as he clipped his side mirror on a light pole minutes later. He hadn't been hurt, but his car had to be taken away for a few weeks to be repaired.
He had seen it again when he was eighteen. He had been heading to a friend's house, to see the large, glossy bird watching him from the bare branch of a tree. He ended up in the hospital for breaking his leg on the stairs up to his friend's apartment.
It wasn't a bird this time. A boy approached him, no older than 14, with glittering inhuman black eyes, dressed all in black, his hair hanging to his shoulders. He watched the man from afar for a while before gliding past him, slipping a subtle hand in the man's pocket. Shocked, wondering if the boy had tried to pickpocket him, he reached into his pockets, finding a small note. Written on the scrap of paper, in beautiful, flowing script was one word- "Omen". He didn't see the car until he was in the middle of the road.
Nevermore stood over the dying human, his black standing out sharply against the white of the hospital room. Nobody saw him, though the little girl- his only daughter, only three years old- gave him a curious glance. He held out a pale hand, gathering a wispy white essence clinging to the man's chest. He breathed it in slowly, letting out a quiet sigh.
If someone told you that you would die in a few minutes, would you belive them?
He would never have called himself observant. He never looked for the signs. He would just see it out of the corner of his eye. A shadow; a flicker of something that would be gone before he could see it properly. It was always there, some ill omen of what was to come.
He was about twelve when he first saw it. He had been riding his bike down the quiet neighborhood street, as he did almost every day. He noticed a flash of something- a sleek black bird landing on a tree branch just out of the corner of his eye. Not ten minutes later he had taken a turn too tightly and lost control, going home with a skinned knee and a cut on his arm.
He saw it again when he was sixteen, driving for the first time. He had been paying attention to the road when a large black shape fell across the hood of his old, hand-me-down Chevy. The bird landed on a telephone wire, not even flinching as he clipped his side mirror on a light pole minutes later. He hadn't been hurt, but his car had to be taken away for a few weeks to be repaired.
He had seen it again when he was eighteen. He had been heading to a friend's house, to see the large, glossy bird watching him from the bare branch of a tree. He ended up in the hospital for breaking his leg on the stairs up to his friend's apartment.
It wasn't a bird this time. A boy approached him, no older than 14, with glittering inhuman black eyes, dressed all in black, his hair hanging to his shoulders. He watched the man from afar for a while before gliding past him, slipping a subtle hand in the man's pocket. Shocked, wondering if the boy had tried to pickpocket him, he reached into his pockets, finding a small note. Written on the scrap of paper, in beautiful, flowing script was one word- "Omen". He didn't see the car until he was in the middle of the road.
Nevermore stood over the dying human, his black standing out sharply against the white of the hospital room. Nobody saw him, though the little girl- his only daughter, only three years old- gave him a curious glance. He held out a pale hand, gathering a wispy white essence clinging to the man's chest. He breathed it in slowly, letting out a quiet sigh.
"If you were to die today...would anyone cry for you?"
The Raven would.
The Raven would.