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flight, part 1
Mark prowled in the room, like one of those big cats Davy had seen on tv. The ones in cages, not like the ones some of his brother's associates kept as pets. Mark said it was tacky, most of the time, to keep big predators like that. "People only keep predators that big if they're very small hunters themselves," he said, in that way that gave the words another meaning. And he said it with a smile, to Herr Corbie, who kept the biggest wolf Davy had ever seen- bigger than some werewolves, even- in a glamoured collar.
Mark said anyone who used glamour to keep animals as pets, wasn't strong enough to dominate them properly. Mark said anyone who needed to use glamour to housetrain a pet after the first week or so, shouldn't have one anyway. Davy didn't believe everything Mark said, but he kind of agreed with him on that one. Herr Corbie used his wolf as a special effect or a status symbol. Mark didn't need any of those.
Even though he'd cut off his tongue before saying it, Davy kind of thought Mark was the coolest person around. He was still a complete bastard, with a seriously twisted sense of humour, but that was pretty cool too, as long as it was aimed at other people.
But now Mark was prowling around, like a caged tiger, looking bored and, worst of all, not hungry. When Mark prowled and looked hungry, he'd disappear, and when Davy saw him the next day he'd look satisfied and smell of blood. When Mark looked bored and hungry, he'd vanish for a bit longer, and he'd come back smelling of blood and excitement, and whatever clothes he'd worn when he went out would usually be too damaged to wear again. Not just the usual damage, blood stains, but ripped buttons.
On those nights, Davy knew to stay well clear of Mark's room. Sometimes the cleaners would come the next day and spend hours in Mark's room. Sometimes there'd be a guest at breakfast, someone who looked powerful, soaked in glamour, and tired.
But right now, Mark wasn't prowling and hungry, or bored and hungry, he was hungry and prowling and that meant it was a good time for Davy to be elsewhere. He tried to edge out of the door, doing his best to look like wallpaper, and wishing, not for the first time, that he had enough glamour to hide from his brother.
Too late. The movement caught Mark's eye and his brother turned to look at him. "Davy," he purred.
Davy felt like a pixie caught in the teeth of whatever kitten Mark had brought home this month. He eyed the door and wondered if he could make a run for it, but before he could do more than think, his brother had moved forwards, and Davy had stepped back instinctively and now he was sort of trapped between Mark and a bookcase. Mark was still an arm's length away, but that didn't mean anything, as quick as Mark moved.
"Davy. Tell me, how are your wings?"
Davy flexed his wings automatically. "Uh, they're okay." Mark stepped forwards, grabbed his left wing and pulled it out a little, looking at it speculatively. Davy resisted the urge to pull away. It never did any good. It wasn't fair, Mark wasn't that much bigger than him, but whenever he got close it always seemed like Davy was still five and Mark's hair was longer than he was.
"No little aches? They healed all right from your little tumble?"
And now Davy really, really wanted to move away. He didn't like being reminded of that anyway- it was no fun, breaking your wings. They had more bones in them than people expected, and it was just about impossible to keep a healing spell on him long enough for it to do any good. He fall asleep, or get distracted, or the painkillers would wear off, and he'd lose control of his null field and wipe the spells clean. Mark practically had to have a healer on call to redo the spells every time he knocked them out.
"They're fine, now. Really" He smiled and tried to slither to one side. Mark was still holding his wing, so it kind of spread out even more. He pulled it up, so it was almost completely extended.
"Yes, they look like the money I spent actually went to something." And Mark was still holding his wing out like that and Davy was fighting the urge to draw it in, keep it nice and safe behind his back, when Mark let go, so suddenly that Davy was almost knocked off balance, and he turned to look at Davy, grinning. "I think it's about time you learnt to fly."
Mark said anyone who used glamour to keep animals as pets, wasn't strong enough to dominate them properly. Mark said anyone who needed to use glamour to housetrain a pet after the first week or so, shouldn't have one anyway. Davy didn't believe everything Mark said, but he kind of agreed with him on that one. Herr Corbie used his wolf as a special effect or a status symbol. Mark didn't need any of those.
Even though he'd cut off his tongue before saying it, Davy kind of thought Mark was the coolest person around. He was still a complete bastard, with a seriously twisted sense of humour, but that was pretty cool too, as long as it was aimed at other people.
But now Mark was prowling around, like a caged tiger, looking bored and, worst of all, not hungry. When Mark prowled and looked hungry, he'd disappear, and when Davy saw him the next day he'd look satisfied and smell of blood. When Mark looked bored and hungry, he'd vanish for a bit longer, and he'd come back smelling of blood and excitement, and whatever clothes he'd worn when he went out would usually be too damaged to wear again. Not just the usual damage, blood stains, but ripped buttons.
On those nights, Davy knew to stay well clear of Mark's room. Sometimes the cleaners would come the next day and spend hours in Mark's room. Sometimes there'd be a guest at breakfast, someone who looked powerful, soaked in glamour, and tired.
But right now, Mark wasn't prowling and hungry, or bored and hungry, he was hungry and prowling and that meant it was a good time for Davy to be elsewhere. He tried to edge out of the door, doing his best to look like wallpaper, and wishing, not for the first time, that he had enough glamour to hide from his brother.
Too late. The movement caught Mark's eye and his brother turned to look at him. "Davy," he purred.
Davy felt like a pixie caught in the teeth of whatever kitten Mark had brought home this month. He eyed the door and wondered if he could make a run for it, but before he could do more than think, his brother had moved forwards, and Davy had stepped back instinctively and now he was sort of trapped between Mark and a bookcase. Mark was still an arm's length away, but that didn't mean anything, as quick as Mark moved.
"Davy. Tell me, how are your wings?"
Davy flexed his wings automatically. "Uh, they're okay." Mark stepped forwards, grabbed his left wing and pulled it out a little, looking at it speculatively. Davy resisted the urge to pull away. It never did any good. It wasn't fair, Mark wasn't that much bigger than him, but whenever he got close it always seemed like Davy was still five and Mark's hair was longer than he was.
"No little aches? They healed all right from your little tumble?"
And now Davy really, really wanted to move away. He didn't like being reminded of that anyway- it was no fun, breaking your wings. They had more bones in them than people expected, and it was just about impossible to keep a healing spell on him long enough for it to do any good. He fall asleep, or get distracted, or the painkillers would wear off, and he'd lose control of his null field and wipe the spells clean. Mark practically had to have a healer on call to redo the spells every time he knocked them out.
"They're fine, now. Really" He smiled and tried to slither to one side. Mark was still holding his wing, so it kind of spread out even more. He pulled it up, so it was almost completely extended.
"Yes, they look like the money I spent actually went to something." And Mark was still holding his wing out like that and Davy was fighting the urge to draw it in, keep it nice and safe behind his back, when Mark let go, so suddenly that Davy was almost knocked off balance, and he turned to look at Davy, grinning. "I think it's about time you learnt to fly."
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love what you're doing with them, makes me wish i had yet even more time to write. *mwahs*