■     mc: @mpirene​

daniel really wasn’t a fan of people. born in solitude, he has remained close to his origins to this day. he lived alone, he worked alone. he ate alone and he slept alone, always. daniel wasn’t exactly lonely (or so he liked to believe). he simply prefers living this way.

in real life, at least.

on the internet, he was known by many. a talkative, friendly and witty young gamer with many allies. it was there he had met one of his very first friends, an avid fan of the multiplayer roleplaying game he had created after his move to south-korea. the stranger had been entertaining at first, but slowly, as time passed, somehow they had grown closer, sharing more private stories about themselves and for once, daniel felt like he had found someone just like him.

so instead of anxious, it actually made the anti-social young man somewhat excited to learn he was moving into the same area as his internet friend. maybe, for once, he could actually go out and spend time with another human being, like normal people did.  — not that he really wanted to be normal, but honestly one could only sit on a sore ass in total darkness for so long. sometimes, you just had to go out, and it would be more fun to have someone around who could tag along.

newly settled within his apartment and in need of a little distraction from unboxing, daniel pulled out his phone. scrolling through his contact list, the male searched for the number he asked for a few days earlier. ❝ found ya. ❞ #1 fan, the contact name read, causing daniel to chuckle. all this time they had been chatting and he had never asked for the person’s name. perhaps today, that would change.

@mpirene

     It was next to unheard of for him the lose or displace any of own belongings, methodical to a fault and needing to have everything from computer files to socks inside drawer in relative order to feel at true ease, but sometimes came a time even the demigod made mistakes and apparently yesterday one such had occurred. Honestly it was not the first for this week already, but Jimin was excused for many reasons, it wasn’t the end of the world either but now sitting in class he couldn’t stop thinking about the damn piece of paper most likely snug in between pages of any of the few science books he’d flipped through the previous afternoon with almost aggressive vigour. Mostly out of necessity, stress spiking up for all the missed material, but he would figure it out. Had mostly.

     At least he could thank luck for the paper not being a required piece for any of today’s class, mainly just scribbles taken from source material and own ponderings, but those were the most important ones as he couldn’t always cling to observations borne out of own depictions on the spot, thoughts fleeting and ever changing course. It was irksome, no one to blame but himself, and now he could only hope none of the librarians had noticed his probably nondescript musings among one of their beloved books and decided to throw it into the trash.

Flight is, simply put, intoxicating.

Morrigan is beyond ancient, but the thrill of sailing on air will never dissipate. It is her truest, most free form, the one she prefers over all else. When she sheds whatever human flesh she wears hollow bones and beak feel more freeing than anything. Like this she forfeits human thought and burden in trade for effortlessness.

It can sometimes be a bit of a problem. losing herself to the simplicity of the form, finding it hard to transition back.

It's late. The sun has set over the island. 

Red beads of eyes see the way blades of grass sway under the florescent rays of a lamp post, and she knows the park below is lit because it is dark. She thinks not for who might be watching as she slopes down, because she's found what she's been looking for. Concern has drained away and so she does not think twice about hurtling to the ground, landing with a sharp shuffle of oil spill black wings.

The process of changing form is sometimes gruesome, will seperating from instinct and tendon tearing away from bone. The moment is long, a sort of shuddering gasping as feathers simultaneously melt and fuse together, forming fabric over pale skin, newly stretched and coming taut. She hisses, these eyes adjusting to different light and vision as she stands before the demigoddess she's been tracking.

For a moment Morrigan stares down the girl, korean coming back to her not at all and then very slowly. Her thoughts are all still abstract for a long while before human lips curve up slowly, sharp teeth flashing. 

When she speaks her voice still a rough, keening timber, sounding every bit a crow speaking twisted english, regurgitating words it’s heard.