Meeting the Faceless Men

Chapter 3: The Woods

Okay, so you didn't land in the clearing but you were close, Priscilla's mind attempted to cheer her up as she waded her way out of the water. Priscilla still had a firm grasp on her Rod and that's all she honestly cared about, her phone was waterproof and her clothes were just an illusion to hide her cloak from plain view. Now that Priscilla remembered her cloak, she noticed that it was now visibly plastered to her body along with her hair. Priscilla frowned at a random trees as she rang out her hair and what she could of her cloak.

"Forget it, I'm flying," Priscilla spoke in frustration, hunching her back and unfurling her wings.

Priscilla stretched her arms and tar feathered wings over her head receiving herself of the seething pain between her shoulders. Abruptly, Priscilla's wing swung down. Priscilla was launched into the air so swiftly droplets broke free from her, leaving a trail of water temporarily suspended in the air behind her. Priscilla let herself slow, air resistance cutting away at her speed, until she was hovering over the forest's treetops.

"Party, party, party..." Priscilla repeated the word slowly under her breath as she raked her eyes over the vast expanse of termite infested timber.

When a twinkling of light flashed in the corner of her vision, Priscilla whipped her head around and angled herself for descent. The wind shrieked in her ears as Priscilla sliced through the air, ridding herself of any remaining liquid. Priscilla landed in a whirlwind of dirt and half decayed leaves, her bare feet connecting with the targeted boulder with enough power to knock loose fist-sized chunks.

Priscilla crouched down and wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to retract her wings without howling in pain. You could compare Priscilla using her wings to resetting every bone in your body, letting them heal (taking the wings out) and then breaking them all, resetting them differently, and healing again (pulling them back in). At least, that's what it would look like to anyone that was watching.

"Never...doing that...again," Priscilla huffed, straightening out of her crumpled pose.

After calming her breath, Priscilla closed her eyes and concentrated, carefully constructing her cloak's cover illusion. A black hooded pea coat over a red long sleeve V-neck and dark matchstick jeans tucked into a pair of Doc Marten combat boots. As Priscilla stepped down off the rock, she pulled the wide hood of her coat snugly over her windblown mane to shadow her face from any onlookers. Priscilla felt eyes and she didn't like the way they made her flesh goosebump.