Wings

melody

Melody

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to move my shoulders too much. The freshly inked skin hurt like hell, but I wasn’t about to regret my decision. I winced as I pulled my jacket back on, thinking that it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to get a tattoo on my back in the middle of winter.  Sighing, I waved goodbye to Terra and headed out the front door, pulling out my phone to call Kestrel.

Kestrel didn’t pick up, and I figured she had carelessly let her phone die again. I left a message saying that I had finished the inking, and that I was heading back to my studio. I also said that she didn’t need to drop by, but I knew she would anyways.

I settled into my usual stride, too fast for anybody but my mother or Kestrel to keep up, and let my feet guide me to a small coffee shop a few blocks away from my studio/apartment. I picked up a café au lait and a small vanilla ice cream to go, tipped the barista at the counter, and walked out, feeling my shoulder blades sting with the sudden temperature changes. My loft was just around the corner, but I sped up anyways, suddenly wanting nothing more than a hot shower, Netflix, and a drawing board with fresh charcoal sticks.

I stopped at the third door down the block, which was really nothing more than a stairway heading up to my studio, shop, and apartment. It wasn’t much, really. A kitchenette with a miniscule range and refrigerator, a bedroom that was more of a closet with a twin bed and a dresser, and an open space that tripled as living room, dining room, and studio. The last room was my shop, easily the biggest room that I owned. It was pretty much a utilitarian white square that showcased the charcoal drawings on the walls.

Walking up the stairs, I knocked on the door to the music shop on the second floor that was miraculously still open. Kestrel worked there on weekends, and I took voice lessons a few days a week. The owner, Joshua Hayven, was a good friend of my little sister’s, and almost an older brother to me. I had bought the studio from him, after working at his shop for a few years.

Josh was sitting at the desk tuning an old guitar. He waved back to me, and I kept moving. Walking in the door, I stumbled over one of my monolithic piles of books, swearing loudly as I did so. I dropped my ice cream and coffee on the low table in the middle of the room and turned around to switch on the light. Flopping back onto the couch, I reached for the TV remote and found Netflix, turning up the volume on one of my favorite sci-fi shows. I dumped the café au lait on the ice cream, turning it into a caffeinated soup of deliciousness, ate quickly and went to take a shower.

I turned on the water in the bathroom and closed my eyes as I waited for it to heat up to a decent temperature. Imagining the sound of the water was a real waterfall somewhere tropical; the dream-me soared away on a pair of gorgeous black wings that sprouted out of her shoulder blades right where my tattoo was. The hot spray of water hitting my hand brought me back to reality, and I stepped into the shower. I luxuriated in the hot spray for a while before I turned the water off, reaching out to grab my towel. As I did so, I noticed an odd flash of black in the mirror before I dismissed it as a trick of the light.

Sighing, I got changed into my favorite pair of pajamas and sat down at my drafting table. I pulled out a set of charcoal sticks and began working on a scene that had been on my mind for a while. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but what I had so far was a shadowy figure with a pair of wings. The wings were a dark, onyx black and were the only fully defined part of the figure, aside from a pair of bright, ice blue eyes not unlike my own. I didn’t know anything else about the picture aside from the fact that I wasn’t going to sell it. This was one picture I was going to keep for myself.

As I worked, the air around me seemed to thicken and form an almost protective shell, and the sound of the TV faded away to white noise in the background. I was completely zoned, working without even thinking about it, until a hand on my shoulder shattered my focus. I jerked my head up, grabbing the hand that held my shoulder and flipping the body it was attached to over my head. The person grunted, and Kestrel stared woozily up at me from the drawing table where I had slammed her.

I let go of the death grip I had on Kestrel’s wrist and helped her to her feet. “Kestrel, you know how I get when I’m so focused on something! Don’t do that!” I almost screamed at her. “I was just coming in to say hi, Mel,” Kestrel whined at me. “Yeah, but you freaked the hell out of me in the process!” I countered. “Jeez, would it kill you to knock like a normal person?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, you gave me a key.” I sighed. I hated her logic sometimes. “I don’t know, maybe keeping your ribs intact? I flipped you pretty hard. You okay after that?” I knew she would be fine, but Kestrel had a tendency to complain. She shrugged. “My rib cage hurts a bit and I’ll have a nasty bruise on my wrist in the morning, but I think I’ll survive. Where’d you learn to do that, anyways?”

I scanned Kestrel’s wrist, making sure there was nothing worse than bruising. “My dad was a judo sensei, and he thought it was fun to sneak up on me and my sister. Renée hated it, but I took the challenge. He’s only been able to catch me off guard once since I was seven. I almost broke his wrist once, too. I think my parents just gave up on me being normal after that.”

“Whoa,” Kestrel whistled. “I knew your parents were tough, but that just… wow.”  I grinned at her. “I haven’t taken anyone down in a while, but I’m still always on guard. I was so zoned that I didn’t hear you, and I kind of freaked. Sorry ‘bout that.”