Painter laughs, "Yeah sure..." he tells her, starting to feel a little tired, but trying not to show it. He begins flapping his wings to get them back up to a good height, panting hard when he reaches the point. With a deep intake of breath, he dives down to the water and does the same maneuver, however, as a little added fun, when he pulled out of the dive he does a spin in the air, just to throw her of a little. Then, to take a pressure off his tired arms, he spins so that she's facing skyward and just slowly flies around in circles.
Chillin at da lake (open)
- Thread starter Renegade
- Start date
She smiled lightly, realizing his arms must've been tired. She knew it wasn't like he truly was her wings. She decided to not let her disappointment show, she decided he'd suspect something if she asked him in a round about way. So she suddenly acted like a sharp pain came... "Maybe we should head down..." She said giving a sadish smile. She had enjoyed her time in the sky with his wings being her's for a time. She wished she could have her wings so she could fly herself, she remembered her bond with her wings and the pain of the things that was once a part of her physical body being taken from her.
But at least for a time she had them again...
But at least for a time she had them again...
Painter flies over to the spot they were at before and lands on the ground gently, letting her go and falling on his butt in exhaustion, "Well..." he says between ragged breaths, "that was rather exhausting.." He looks up and smiles, "Anytime you want to do that, just ask...I'll take you up.." his arms begin to shake uncontrollably from his tiredness, "Can you do me a favor and get me a little bit of water from the lake?" he asks a little shakily.
She nodded with a light smile, and got some water from the lake using all that she had. Which was her hands, she cupped her hands tightly forming a bowl and using wind to keep water from leaving her hands she brought it to him making the wind form a cup she moved her hands away from the water. "Here you go." She said with a light smile, she was focusing on keeping the cup in tact.
Painter takes the cup in his hands and drinks the water down quickly, then sits back with a sigh, "Ahhh, that's good stuff..." he says quietly, feeling his energy begins to come back. He sits up a little more and looks at Allie with a smile, "Judging by that big grin on your face, I'd say you enjoyed the ride.." he says to her with a smile.
She chuckled and sat down next to him. "Judging by your tiredness you don't carry people often." She said with a light chuckle, she then grew serious. Biting her lip as she often did when in thought she looked at the sky, "Funny thing is... I remembered I did have wings, and I'm sure of it... But if I had them... then a witch really did rip them out of my back and the pain I feel in the memories was that bad... But the thing I don't get is why did the witch rip them out of my back, who is she and why does she seem so familar..." She looked at Painter furrowing her brow in thought...
Painter sighs, "No..carrying people isn't something I'm used to doing..kinda one of those thins I figured I'd wing it on..no pun intended.." he chuckles and continues, "I can't tell you who the witch is, nor why she is familiar. As for the wings I may have a guess though.." He looks down quietly, unsure of whether or not he should continue, but decides he should anyways. "I'd have to say you were imprisoned for a while by the witch, and she removed you wings so that you couldn't fly away and escape. Then after she was done with you, she wiped your memories and let you go.."
"I don't think it was in prison, I think it was in battle... But I wonder why we were, I wish I could understand why I have three memories if that's so. I mean, one thing of the past I had a family which mentally abused me. Another one I was an orphan, and another I was abandoned... I don't know which is correct nor what could it possibly mean." She said confused still. "And each thing is as realistic..." She sighed.
Painter frowns in thought, but after coming up with nothing remains silent. His mind begins to reel, remembering his own problems. A flashback returns to him and he closes his eyes trying to fight it off:
The big kid looked down at Painter and smiled, a laugh escaping his mouth, "You're a freak! Would it hurt if I did this?" that bully said, grabbing a few feathers and yanking them off, making Painter cry out in pain. "Hahaha, that's what I thought you worthless freak! I should kill you!"
Suddenly the kid pulled out a knife and pulls his arm back, ready to stab Painter through the heart. With reaction time seeming inhuman, Painter was able to avoid a shot through his heart, but still received a deep gash across his right shoulder. With another cry, Painter angrily pushes the kid on his butt with a large gust of wind.
Blood drained from the would on his shoulder, seeming to be endless in its onslaught and making Painter begin to become queasy. He quickly turned and ran, fresh warm blood, running down his arm and his other hand over it, applying pressure to stop it. With a cry he tripped and fell and landed head first, and from there only cold darkness remained.
When he woke up he found his shoulder beginning to scab, but a small pool of blood was spilled out all around him. He arose to his feet, only to wince, from a sudden rush of pain to his head and bloodied knees, and fall back to the ground slightly writhing.
Painter reopens his eyes, a tear trickling down his cheek as he unconsciously brings his hand up to his shoulder and rub his scar. The rest of the memory was incredibly painful, and one he dreamed about nightly, reliving the torture over and over again. "I'll help you find the witch though.." he says slowly, "and I'll give her what she deserves.."
The big kid looked down at Painter and smiled, a laugh escaping his mouth, "You're a freak! Would it hurt if I did this?" that bully said, grabbing a few feathers and yanking them off, making Painter cry out in pain. "Hahaha, that's what I thought you worthless freak! I should kill you!"
Suddenly the kid pulled out a knife and pulls his arm back, ready to stab Painter through the heart. With reaction time seeming inhuman, Painter was able to avoid a shot through his heart, but still received a deep gash across his right shoulder. With another cry, Painter angrily pushes the kid on his butt with a large gust of wind.
Blood drained from the would on his shoulder, seeming to be endless in its onslaught and making Painter begin to become queasy. He quickly turned and ran, fresh warm blood, running down his arm and his other hand over it, applying pressure to stop it. With a cry he tripped and fell and landed head first, and from there only cold darkness remained.
When he woke up he found his shoulder beginning to scab, but a small pool of blood was spilled out all around him. He arose to his feet, only to wince, from a sudden rush of pain to his head and bloodied knees, and fall back to the ground slightly writhing.
Painter reopens his eyes, a tear trickling down his cheek as he unconsciously brings his hand up to his shoulder and rub his scar. The rest of the memory was incredibly painful, and one he dreamed about nightly, reliving the torture over and over again. "I'll help you find the witch though.." he says slowly, "and I'll give her what she deserves.."
She saw the tear trickle down his cheek, her eyes widened as she heard what he said. He was going to help? Tears started to come to her eyes, she held them back. She threw her arms around him in a hug, she never had someone willing to help or as kind as he had been to her. He was starting to look more and more like a friend to her. A tear slipped down her cheek, no one had been so kind, no one had reached out that far since she had arrived here.
She didn't want to make him uncomfortable in the hug so she loosened it going to let go if he wished so.
She didn't want to make him uncomfortable in the hug so she loosened it going to let go if he wished so.
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