The Beginning: Tormoil

If her wings were clipped this would be what it would feel like; entrapment, forced servitude; tied down; removal of freedom. This was no way to live. One should have the ability to spread her wings, fly wherever the wind would take her. The gusts of air flitting and lifting her soul and spirit just by grazing her feathers with the sun and sky. Only danger loomed in the near distance; the future. There before her stood her mother and father holding the golden shears of an arranged bond that threatened to cut her wings. She would not have it. The memories were still so fresh in her mind it kept repeating in her head over and over like a broken music box.

Her bright blue orbs stared out into the distance. The calm silence of the graveyard brought peace to her when her thoughts got a wry, but this moment in time forgetting what had just happened wasn't being quenched by her savior. What was she to tell her best friend? What was he to think?

The soft rustle of the trees branches billowed about her grazing her soft porcelain cheeks with the cold snow flakes flying from their perch. The cold icicles from some of the branches broke off and hit the ground as she stood there. It was another typical day in Rerdanthis. Snow...snow...snow. It never melted. It never left. Having a graveyard in a constant state of ice was a talent within itself, but it was done. The fur lining of her hood billowed in the breeze and she suddenly felt a presence, the presence no one else saw but her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him.

His grey toned skin and lithe and tall body stood statuesque amongst the snow. His blackened clothing lay stark amongst the white of the snow. His silvery locks of hair, short and shaggy covered one side of his face. The rest revealed his tattoos and his bright purple glowing eyes. As usual he didn't have a coat on. The mere glimpse of the sun catching his back revealed wings, but they soon disappeared as he moved. He always seemed to have enough energy to traipse wearing barely anything. Even she didn't stand out in the mass of white surrounding her besides her tanned skin and her bright blue pupiless eyes. She turned to him and rather then her typical greeting and smile, she just looked at him forlorn.

"That face doesn't look like the one I normally get Pucca."

She pursed her lips and sighed sagging her head downward. She muttered, "That's because I have bad news."

He moved towards her concerned. "That's... rare..." he said jokingly. "You usually smile despite complaining of your place."

"I am quite serious about this one this time. I assure you this is something I cannot smile or shrug off as I have done before.

"Tell me." He said sternly.

* * *

After the long drown out explanation he merely stared off into the distance at the rolling clouds and mist about the gravestones before them. Lucca turned her head to him watching his expression as he finally looked to her.

She remained quiet but he suddenly pursed his lips and took her hand gently in his before pulling her quickly into his grasp. Lucca gasped and began to blush heavily before returning the embrace. Her head leaned against his shoulder before tears swelled in her eyes. He looks out into the distance, firm and quiet. The energy about him felt like a swarm of electricity. His grasp tightened before whispering lightly in her elegant long ears, "Run."