#aworldinverted

It was on quiet nights like this Godiva found herself restless. Unable to sleep, fidgety, capable of doing anything but just relaxing. And it was on this night the warlock found herself perched right at the edge of the rooftop of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, motionless Gothic relics of gargoyles staring out to the horizon in silence. Godiva’s tattooed back remained exposed to the cool night winds as her large black wing tattoos glowed with her tanned skin under the moonlight. Her ears perked to the sound of motion behind her, not bothering to look over her shoulder to see who it was.

Central Park. It was a very different environment compared to the rest of New York City but it seemed to flow seamlessly to the busy bustling life of the Big Apple and be a realm of its own. Places like this were rare to come by and for Godiva, it was a nice place to unwind after the trip of migrating from Beantown. Boston was much older than New York but it didn’t match the big city’s finesse.

Her attention was captured by the laughter of small children playing tag in the large patch of grass just beyond the park bench where the warlock sat. A warm smile curled on the older woman’s lips as she sunk a little more into the wooden bench to settle in, her back turned to face anyone who may approach her.

Deep growls rumbled in the woods hogging the green rolling hills of Central Park as two young werewolves in their morphed forms snarled towards a group of higher deformed demons slowly approaching their easy prey. Snapping at the demons as they tried to get closer, the werewolves quickly retreated back against a stone wall when the demons made an attempt to lunge forward to hurt them. The snarling grew louder to being cornered before their wolf eyes widened to the site of fire consuming the demons in a large wall of flames. Soaring over the top of the group, Godiva’s black wings flapped to have her land right in front of the young werewolves, gesturing for them to follow her lead.

“We can get out this way. But we need to hurry,” she encouraged, the wolves not responding at first before immediately hurrying after her towards the forest edge.

The woods came to an open clearing as the three managed to dart through the trees only to discover more demons eagerly awaiting their arrival, hissing and gargling in hunger to their exhausted meals.

“Damn it...” hissed Godiva.

A firm frown curled on the warlock’s lips while she watched the demons circle around her and the two young werepups, unaware of a familiar figure approaching.

Another somewhat sleepless night passed for Godiva as the warlock found herself settled on top of the roof of an older apartment building on the riverside of Brooklyn, the new morning sun peeking just over the skyscraper horizon of the Big Apple as the warlock softly began to sing to herself. Such beautiful sun rises made her reflect on the mornings she would wake up before dawn with Waya as the two would sit and enjoy each other’s company while watching Nature unfold all of its beauty in front of them.

Godiva’s warm voice echoed softly into the empty morning air, singing sweetly to the newly rising sun as the Cherokee words lingered, her wings fully stretched and fluffed to relax from being masked by magic all day.

(( Song being sung: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_qFbNskjCI ))

“Damn it...” Godiva hissed through clenched teeth, groaning to the impact of her shoulder hitting the brick wall of an alley in one of the more crowded parts of the city, a red smear gliding along the rough texted brick as the warlock slumped to the ground in pain. She thought the fight she brewed up with a couple of demons would have been in her favor...but the extra two demons that appeared out of nowhere was not something she was expecting. She managed to take down all but one of them as she heard the growling and hissing of the demon slowly pass overhead while it crept along the rooftops.

The warlock’s wings were disheveled, feathers loose and coming off of her wings here and there with fresh scratches. Godiva’s clothes were caked in blood along the fresh wounds she had received that only stopped bleeding from her clothing getting soiled by her blood and dried enough to seal the wounds so slightly. She leaned her head back against the brick and prayed that someone would find her that was a friend...but the likelihood seemed low.

Yet another busy day exploring New York City and Godiva came closer to understanding the allure of the Big Apple, especially all of the bright lights and nightlife with Times Square. While it was once one of New York City’s most crime ridden areas in older times, it thrived with life and captured the awe of both locals and tourists alike. Finishing a small trip down Fifth Avenue with a couple of small bags in hand, the warlock made her way through the Square towards one of the side streets to start making her way to her home. The hotel she was crashing in was enough for now until she figured out a more permanent living situation.

But little did Godiva know, her night was about to get a little more interesting as she passed by one of the dead end alleyways, turning her head to the sound of commotion on the other side.

With being new to the Big Apple, Godiva realized that while she had visited the city throughout her long life, she did not have the opportunity to explore it further, to dive right into the heart of New York City to see its true colors. A city was just like a person, full of life with its high end characteristics and some of its lower ones. On this night, the warlock had decided to just take to the streets, walking along all of the side alleys and main roads she could find, dazzling at the bright lights of Time Square as well as the flickering neon signs of small corner stores in the smaller neighborhoods.

One block in particular had a more prominent feature that some of the others. An old building, scaffolding framing the outside like a skeleton glistened under the bright full moon, the color of the chipping paint as pasty as bones. Walking up to one of the doors with the hanging sign indicating it was closed and under repair, Godiva smiled as her hand reached out to touch the chipped wood, fingers delicately tracing out the gnarled grains of wood. Such character and, while neglected, it told a story.

“What secrets do you hold, huh?” she cooed to the building, not expecting an answer.