Fallen Angel Revisited [Open] Jan 22, 2011 15:39:21 GMT -5
Post by Risk on Jan 22, 2011 15:39:21 GMT -5
The jungle was thick, dark, and hot. It was a wonder so much life could exist in such a climate, but still there was proof in this place that it could and did. Giant trees reached high into the sky, branching out to completely shade what was hidden beneath. Wet grass and mossy trees, vines crawling over branches and fallen logs, and most wonderfully, the strange flowers that took their place in the damp, rich soil and yet without sun. Now and then the sun would peek through a whole in the branches and the life lucky enough to bask in the warmth would thrive before something came along for dinner.
It was a beautifully terrible place.
But it is not here in the damp shadows that we find our attention holding. Rather, high above the canopy that shaded that place, we focus on a winged figure; feathered black appendages pumping up and down at intervals. One wing was pierced with a large ring, the other draped with a large chain that held a silver skull on the end. His black hair danced in the wind of his momentum, his clothes fluttering about his frame.
But something about the sight was wrong. His wings flapped weakly, and his arms were wrapped around his stomach rather than his chest. Pulling one hand back from the place where it lay, he let a curse escape his lips, hissing in pain as he stared down at the blood that covered his skin. He had been flying for quite some time with this injury and a few others. His right wing was severed at the tendon, barely able to function at all, and his left leg was torn to pieces, hanging dead weight beneath his body.
Finally, unable to hold his weight up any longer, the man plummeted downward, crashing downward through the trees, causing more and more damage to his body and worsening the wounds he had already been given. A guttural scream sounded loudly from his throat as he landed heavily on his shattered leg, breaking it even further. He groaned and pulled himself back, straightening the limb with his hands and weight, muffled cries of pain sounding as he held his mouth closed.
It was then that he realized where he was. The jungles of Zailleon.
This was not somewhere he wanted to be in his condition.