Only a Social Call

[Brennan Shardae]

Yes, it was inappropriate.

Yes, he was supposed to be resting.

Yes, he'd been told by the doctor not to strain his wings yet.

Yes, he'd completely ignored all of that.

Why?

He couldn't get that woman, the falcon, out of his mind.  He kept thinking about her, about how sad she'd been, and how lost.  How horribly upset she was that, as a falcon, she would choose to commit suicide by falling to her death.  How she completely confused him, and none of it made sense.  She was built like a human, with solid bones, but he knew a falcon when he saw one.  If you knew what you were looking for, it was impossible to miss.  More difficult to determine was why he'd sought her out.  Perhaps it was because he truly, honestly cared to make sure she was keeping her promise, and talk to her.  Maybe it was because she intrigued him and he wanted to know the answers to his questions.  Either way, he'd used the contacts he had to track her down.  He knew her name, where she lived, and even got a little photo of her to confirm that it was the right person.  His contacts were surprisingly low on information, though.  He'd have to figure it out himself.

No, he hadn't told Avalon.

No, he hadn't told any of the other guards.

No, he didn't intend to change that.

He really couldn't have said exactly what he expected when he landed on the windowsill outside of her home to peek inside, but he was worried that just walking up and knocking on the door might be a bit too blatant in the event that anyone was watching, and he needed to stretch his aching wings, regardless of what some doctor said.  He tapped on the glass with his beak, peeking in and tilting his head curiously as he watched to see if she'd appear.

[Amaltheia Monarch]

Amaltheia had been laying in bed for a long time, staring at her ceiling as her radio played, the colours of the equalizer bathing her darkened walls in a soft blue glow.

I was five, and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight...
Bang bang.. he shot me down
Bang bang.. I hit the ground..

The music truly was the only sound for a long time as she remained silent, willing herself not to cry. She was drowning in memories, in her distant memories. She felt like she was forgetting what Aeson looked like, or what it felt like to experience sunrise on the island, what the sound of the water was like...

She could remember well the merciful way they disposed of her, though.

She rose in her nightgown and released an angry sigh as she headed for the door of her bedroom. Fingers grasped it and pulled, and brought her ghostly form into the darkened hallway and further into the living room. Curtains were barely parted - Amaltheia usually had them pinned shut, but she had gone straight to the bath when she'd arrived and had neglected them for the time being.

The fabric of her nightgown was both sheer and opaque, with thin straps and a modest cut at her knees, though the back plunged low, revealing only the faintest pearlescent scars that a mortal might just overlook. She stood in the living room, hair twined up by her hands and allowed herself a brief moment of peace. Her pale skin and hair contrasted against the white of the silk and the moonlight that bathed her figure now rendered her more like a ghost than a woman. Times like these she truly did resemble Aleya, her former self.

And then there came the tapping. The rapping at her window.

She turned slowly, trembling now. Had they come? Had they finally come to finish the job? Had they decided to relieve her of her punishment and just end this?

But no, on closer examination, there was a black bird at her window, and Amaltheia, who had certainly not been raised in traditional Avian ways, went to it before she thought to fetch her robe. She slung it open and fixed her mismatched eyes down at the raven.

"So, we meet again prince," she said softly. She said nothing more, but instead moved to accomidate him as he would inevitably fly through the window. Or he could sit on the ledge longer, but Theia wouldn't keep that window open forever.

[Brennan Shardae]

He wasn't about to sit on the ledge any longer than he had to, but when he hopped off of the windowsill to flap further into her home, he was sure to land in an area that had less visibility from any of the windows before he shifted back to his demi-form.  It made him feel exposed, walking around with his wings visible in this world of ignorant humans, but it was also a rather comfortable state to live in.  Right then, it was just nice to give those wings a final stretch and fold them rather carefully against his back.  They were still sore, even if he wasn't about to say anything about it.

"It's good to see that you're well, Lady Monarch," he told her, unable to really help the formality, and he was sure to keep his eyes firmly on her face and her own eyes, rather than letting them wander as his initial reaction had been.  He'd been unable to stop himself, but he'd been embarrassed by his own actions and now averted his eyes from her rather beautiful, and a bit too visible, figure.  "I apologize for not introducing myself sooner.  I'm Brennan Shardae, Captain of the Royal Flight."

He punctuated the introduction with a very short sort of bow, and continued.  "Forgive me, but I had to pry somewhat into your affairs to find you.  I was worried, given our last...meeting."

[Amaltheia Monarch]

"My affairs," she stated, voice somewhat monotone. She noticed how careful he was being not to stare, and she realized that she was perhaps too unashamed for her own good. She felt her cheeks redden a little, though it was more embarassment for him than for herself.

"Excuse me a moment," she said briskly. As she turned, she was again captured in the patch of light, her back exposed to him. The aforementioned scars were something he may or may not take notice of, but Theia was quick in her movements, and vanished into the darkened doorway of her room before a word was said. When she returned, she was wrapped in fine white silk, and the robe had been tied.

"So, little Raven," she said softly, crossing her arms and giving him one of those distrustful looks that she was so prone to. "Why have I worried you so far away from home?"

She wasn't sure if he knew what she was, or what she had been, or anything else about her. She didn't know how much he had to dig up, but he knew the surname she had chosen, and that was enough to make her wary. If he called her Aleya, she'd kill him.

[Brennan Shardae]

He made the mistake of thinking that she was embarrassed for herself when she noticed his reaction to her appearance and flushed, but it wasn't really a mistake that seemed about to cause him any amount of grief.  Just an innocent difference in culture, right?

Really, the difference was what they thought was appropriate, since Brennan, like nearly any man, couldn't really stop his eyes from wandering occasionally, and that happened to be the case when she turned around to leave the room.  "Of course," he told her quickly.  He'd intended to avert his eyes once more, but instead found something of interest there.  It looked like scars.  Two of them, in fact, with a rather...intriguing design to them.  Unfortunately, he had a very limited chance to examine them before she was gone, though they could potentially help in his understanding of the situation.  While she put on her robe and returned, he couldn't resist analyzing the details available to him in his mind.

"You were very...upset the last time I saw you," he said carefully, that wary look of hers putting him on his guard a bit.  "I wanted to see how you were now."

That was the truth, or at least, the closest he was going to get to it right then.  What he really meant was that he'd been thinking about her ever since and couldn't get her out of his mind, but he was too much a proper gentleman to tell her that.  He really shouldn't have been in her home right then, but there were too few choices in that department.  "Perhaps I might even come to understand what happened."

[Amaltheia Monarch]

Anger flickered beneath the quiet, calm surface that Amaltheia wore, and she walked towards Brennan swiftly, bringing herself only inches from his face, and was slightly surprised by the fact that she had not managed to walk him into the wall. It was no matter.

"You seem fond of that word, understand, as though you truly could," she said, almost fondly, sadly, and rose fingers to touch his dark hair again, as though it was a curiosity. She pulled away suddenly, and went to her kitchen, removing a pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring herself a glass. She offered some to him.

"Why did you really come, little Raven?" she demanded, watching him cautiously. Even in this shape, she still had distant echos of her former self, all full of grace and beauty. "What do you know?"

[Brennan Shardae]

Her words seemed almost sharp, especially with the way she'd so suddenly invaded his space, but he found that he could handle her potential anger better than that fond, sad way of speaking she had, or the way she reached up to touch him.  He wasn't used to having someone so close to him, or being touched by anyone other than Avalon, but he could handle anger.  That was something he could take defensive measures against, but he was lost about the rest of it.

"I came here to attempt to understand," he told her honestly, not really sure why he followed her to her kitchen, but he had, only to accept the glass of water and watch her without really thinking about it.  It was impossible not to see what she was, if only because of her grace and beauty, even if something wasn't quite right.  He'd never looked at another woman other than Avalon, but he'd also never met someone like her.

"You're a falcon, aren't you?" he asked, only being so straightforward because she'd asked.  He thought he already knew the answer, but he wasn't sure of the specifics.  "But your bones aren't hollow like mine are, and you have an interesting set of scars.  If you don't mind my asking, what happened?"

It was very personal, but it was something that had been bothering him.  He just didn't want to ask her why she was trying to kill herself, and made the error of thinking it was better to ask what had happened than why she'd jumped.  

[Amaltheia Monarch]

"The ever-wise mercy of the Empress, my little Raven," she replied, as if that answered his question in the entirety. If he knew -anything- of the Falcons, he would know what she meant. Theia was not ready to delve into her memories, not just yet, and so she concentrated on her cold water a moment longer before putting the glass to the side of the sink.

It was strange how she addressed him - if Brennan thought that even giving her his rightful name would change what she did, he would be wrong. Theia still retained certain mannerisms, and she would address whomever she saw fit with whatever she had chosen, damned if anyone would instruct her otherwise. But he was her little Raven, or simply prince, although he would find himself less fond of this term as there was a certain threat of acid to her voice.

"Do you know how many have seen those scars and looked on? Why do you see them? What do you think happened? What do you think I am?" she asked. She remained even in tone, never betraying that secretly she was aching for him to tell her who and what she was.  

[Brennan Shardae]

He couldn't tell her who she was, not the way she wanted him to, and simply because he didn't know.  All he knew was the name she'd been using most recently -- Amaltheia Monarch.  The name wasn't very helpful, but he had enough from what she'd said and what he'd figured out for himself that he could basically guess.  The scars probably meant she'd been stripped of her ability to fly, and shift, but she still wasn't JUST a human.  That much was obvious to him, but he didn't know the extent of it.  He'd heard enough about the falcons to know that they were supposed to have very strong magic, and most organized shifter societies had a way of exiling those that were deserving of the punishment.  Among the avians it was removal of the pinfeathers to ensure the person could no longer take their other form, but Amaltheia's scars didn't look like she'd just had her pinfeathers clipped.

Even better was that he had no idea WHY she would have been exiled.  It could be something relatively harmless to him, or something that made her quite the threat, yet he was still willing to take the risk.  

"You were exiled," he said, that being the only logical answer, but it was odd that they hadn't killed her as well.  That was the common practice, even if modern times had caused punishments to grow lighter.  "But you're a falcon.  Even without your wings, it's impossible to think you're anything else.  Why were you exiled?"

[Amaltheia Monarch]

"Yes, my little Raven, but do you know how long ago?" she asked, the question posed so innocently and yet so utterly twisted with hatred that at made her unable to look at him for a moment. So very long ago... Aleya had been stripped of her power and status only seconds before she had been stripped of her wings. Perhaps they really thought she had died, after all this time, but it was something the Empress had not mentioned in the court as she had heard it - even in the bastardized versions of Aleya's story, or so the books said, she had been slain.

The reality was eternal damnation in this shell. Oh, she could die, just as surely as anyone else could, but she would not die of age. Appearance altered just enough to drive the girl mad, as she would always see a duality of reflections in the mirror, the Empress had been maddened with rage when the Falcon's own magic refused to be bound so completely. Amaltheia secretly thought that was the real reason she hadn't just been killed, because she had resisted - even though she had not.

She seemed to avoid the why, but it was mostly because she didn't feel like he deserved to know. What had he done, but stop her from silencing her tears? And now he was in her home, throwing absurd questions at her as though she owed him explinations. She leveled her gaze at him, a gaze that easily could have brought mortals to their knees at one point in time, but now it was nothing more than a hard stare accompanied by a very deafening silence.

"How did you know what I am? How can you tell?" Nevermind that he had probably, in his position, been trained to recognize any and all threats (and the Falcons would always be a threat to.. well, everything).  

[Brennan Shardae]

Her first question halted him, and not simply because of what she as asking.  True, that was part of it, as it sounded like one of those loaded questions that he could never get right, but there was also something ominous about her tone.  It seemed so harmless, but there was a sense of something unpleasant beneath that.  He didn't mention the fact that she'd avoided his question.

As an explanation as to how he'd known what she was, he could have told her nearly half a dozen different things.  There was her eye, the way she moved, everything about her that a trained eye could have recognized, but those weren't what cemented it in his mind.  

"Your voice.  It gives you away," he told her, slowly beginning to wonder if he really should have come.  It may not have been the smartest thing he'd ever done, particularly because he hadn't informed anyone else of his whereabouts.  

[Amaltheia Monarch]

She sighed. "I won't hurt you. Stand down, Raven," she spoke, her tone soft, yet commanding. "If anyone came through those doors, you would be the least of their worries, I can assure you." She clipped past him into the living room, and sat down on the white couch, still bathed in darkness, though there was enough light from the small bulb above the sink in the kitchen to illuminate enough to see.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked after a pause. Amaltheia didn't feel too keenly about the news being spread that she was trapped like this. She could only imagine what a price that might fetch, especially for someone who was zealous enough to try and undo her binding (which was impossible as far as she knew) and use her for their own purposes.

[Brennan Shardae]

Brennan believed her when she said that he would be the least of any intruder's worries, but that naturally made him wonder what she'd do.  Did she still possess her fearsome magic even in exile?  He'd have assumed they'd strip he of it, but he'd never met a falcon who'd endured such a punishment, so he wouldn't know.

Dangerous or not, she said she wouldn't hurt him, and he followed her into the other room, though he remained standing on the other side of her living room.  

"I told no one, I promise.  Your secret is safe," he told her softly, thinking back to Avalon.  He should have told her, as it was his duty to always be honest with her, but this was one thing he'd gotten the feeling he shouldn't share.  At least not until he was better informed, or so he told himself.  

He'd probably never be well-informed on this topic.

[Amaltheia Monarch]

"Good." Her words, her very voice, seemed less sad, and so much more finite and commanding. It seemed to fade away, however, as she looked back up to him. With the voice mirrored her entire body, and she softened visably, leaning back a little, as though she was actually relaxing.

"Do you even know why you are here?" she asked curiously. She had long lost the ability to read minds, but she knew a confused man when she saw one. He intrigued her a little, mostly because it was quite backwards for the prince to be here, with her, quarter to midnight, instead of at home with his Tuuli Thea to be. She wondered how much he resisted himself in making this flight.

[Brennan Shardae]

It was almost startling, hearing her voice change from that sad, nearly ethereal sound to a drastically more solid and commanding tone, but he had enough military training in him that instead of being startled, he straightened simply out of habit.  He relaxed ever so slightly when she did, but not nearly enough.  He didn't know what to do about her, or with her, or anything.  He was here, he'd gotten some of his answers, and he was almost just as confused as before.  Now what?  She was potentially dangerous, he really shouldn't be there, but he wanted to be.  He was interested in learning more about her, even if he shouldn't be.  It wasn't right.

"Not really," he admitted, sighing some and relaxing a bit more with the confession.  "I wanted to know who you were, and now I don't know what to do with that knowledge."

Somehow, it felt wrong to just ask his questions and leave.