ax_main | Megan and Warren, backdated

Warren and Megan discuss their own personal fairy tales in the woods. As you do.

Megan stood at the edge of the treeline with her hands on her hips. Today was the day; she would definitely take a fly through the forest without running into any trees this time. Her wings and other powers had been impressive enough back in Abergylid, but here she was nothing special. So it was time to step it up and learn to fly like an ace pilot.

She kicked off from the ground and, wings buzzing, she zipped into the woods. And everything was going perfectly for a few minutes...until a strong wind came up. It caught her wings like a sail and sent her crashing into a tree trunk. At least she managed to slow her fall a little, but she did land on the ground with a jarring thump. It knocked the wind right out of her.

Something else landed just beside her, and then there was an angel in a cable knit sweater kneeling at her side. "I'm sorry--I wasn't fast enough. Are you okay?"

He was so pretty that Megan found herself completely disarmed. She gaped at him for much longer than anyone would consider polite. For her part, she was completely disheveled. There were pine needles in her wavy pink hair.

Awareness came rushing back in, and she was all a-fidget, running her hands over her arms and legs and skull, looking for injuries. "I scraped my knee," she said, shifting her leg so that he could see that her thick knit tights were torn clean through.

Warren took the long look in stride, being used to it, and grinned at her. "Well, not too bad, considering." He stood and held out a hand to help her up. "Let's see if you can stand on it."

She wasn't going to turn down the chance to be helped up by a valiant young man, and she slipped his hand into hers. "It should be alright. Except the tights are ruined. My wings are ok, so..." She craned to look over her shoulder and gave them a flutter. They had proved to be sturdy the whole time she'd had them, but they looked so delicate that she was always worried that they might tear.

"They're beautiful." Warren admired them, head cocked to one side. "And apparently tougher than they look, if they hold you up like that, let alone survive a fall. How long have you had them?"

"Two years. But I wasn't allowed to fly far back at my gran's house. They didn't want me to get lost."

"Where's your gran's house?" Warren wondered. "The middle of a forest?"

"Up in the hills, where the mines are." Her Welsh accent may or may not have been an indicator to him, depending on his familiarity with the British Isles. "Funny enough, I could go anywhere I liked on my bike. Maybe they thought I'd fly away like a kite." Which, being honest, was more or less what had just happened to her.

"So basically your life was a fairy tale," Warren surmised with a huge grin again.

"As close as I could make it." Megan couldn't help but beam back at him. This was a fairy tale moment, too, even if she never saw him again. It felt very good to have the attention of a prince charming. "You must be from around here, then."

"Upper West Side." Warren said with a grin. "Manhattan born and partly raised. Hardly a fairy tale--but the longer I'm here the closer it gets."

"I think New York is just another kind of fairy tale. For a different kind of person."

Well she was fucking delightful. Warren's super charming grin was up to its full wattage, and naturally. "That's... actually pretty true. It's got all the right stuff. Evil queens, elaborate mirrors, creepy towers..."

"Plus, if you're brave and pure of heart, you can become a queen!" She was thinking, in particular, of the movie The Devil Wears Prada. All of her experience of New York was strictly taken from movies.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been called as much on at least one or two magazines...” Warren chuckled.

Megan cocked her head. She wasn't quite sure why a magazine would call him a queen--her train of thought didn't usually drift in that direction. "Maybe they'll make a movie about you, then."

Warren winked. "Who'd play me, though?"

She scratched her chin and studied him. "That guy from Hunger Games--uh...uh...Fennick!"

"Oh nice. He's hotter than me." Warren grinned. "That's the key to casting your own movie right?"

Megan turned quite pink. "I don't think that's strictly true. Not everyone is pretty in real life like you are. So...probably not every actor should be pretty. Except, well..." She furrowed her brow, thinking through things slowly. "I guess it's a compliment to have a very pretty actor play you, so...."

Warren made a finger-gun in her direction. "Exactly. And I love some compliments. So thanks." He winked. "I'd say... Mia Wasikowska, for you. But she'd have to wear a wig, because your hair is almost as cool as your wings."

Megan made a note to search the actress' name on IMDB when she got back to her room. She was immensely pleased to have said something clever and earn that wink as a reward. At the mention of her hair, she curled a strand around her finger. "It's natural," she told him. "I came out this way. My eyes, too." The briefest flash of a frown crossed her face. Her featureless black on black on black eyes were, she had to admit, as creepy as the bullies at school said they were. "So I guess everyone knew from the start that I was...different. The wings came just a couple of years ago, though." And what an ordeal that had been.

"I want to say Kurt had all of his physical mutations from the start, which was probably a pretty interesting time, growing up," Warren said thoughtfully. "My wings just came--not even two years ago, as well. Freaked me the hell out. Tam and Shen's are recent too."

Megan touched her forefingers together and looked down at them for a moment. "Was it...horrible for you? When your wings came in?" Megan didn't like to think of her experience. It had been terrifying and painful, beginning with worries that she had weird knobby tumors and ending with a skin ripping nightmare.

Warren nodded, face screwing up a little. He didn't mind talking about it, not with someone else who had wings especially--in fact he was aware it was good for him. But ugh. It had been, "Horrible. Seriously. It was just like--these bony lumps growing off my shoulderblades at first. I thought I was gonna die, honestly." He put his hands in his pockets and sighed, wings drooping behind him. "Then they just kept growing."

"I thought I had horrible back cancer and I didn't tell gran until they just...burst out one day." She smiled a little. "When I think of it now, that was pretty silly. Cancer doesn't work like that."

"No, I mean, I knew that and I thought the same thing," Warren admitted, wings ruffling with slight embarrassment at the memory. "The school's doctor told me it wasn't--once I finally had to tell someone, but I was still pretty sure I was going to die. Heh. Seems crazy now. Couldn't live without them."

"I hid them 'til pop!" She made a bursting motion with her hands. "Out they came! Then my gran heard me wailin' and she took me out for ice cream. And then we spent all weekend figuring out how to alter all my clothes."

Warren smiled, maybe a little wistfully. "Your gran sounds awesome."

"She's amazing. I'm so lucky." Despite losing her mother and father in a whirlwind of unpleasantness, she couldn't help but think of her childhood as a happy time, all because of her grandparents. "I hope someday I can afford to give them a vacation to America, to see the school. And the big city."

Deep in Warren's belly, a dark, sharp place opened up. It happened sometimes, if rarely. Envy and loneliness were mostly alien to him. He smiled all the same, though it was slightly sad, genuinely happy that this adorable girl had that, growing up. "Well, if they do come, let me know. I have an in on all the best places in the city." Well, he had. And maybe would again. Someday.

Megan beamed back at him, the very visage of friendliness. "It's a promise, then."