Burying a ruffled head into the soft dawn of the jacket, Ilmatar
glared at the darkness, keen eyes picking up on the bumpy detains
of the fabric. Crimson was right to some degree, the prosecution
that Ilmatar had faced was nothing compared to the horrors those
born with powers faced, but they could still walk among society
without being suspected of anything. The trial Ilmatar had gone
through had physically and mentally scarred the already
constitutionally weak mind, and when salvation had been promised,
it only damned the already desperate young adult. Ilmatar had
walked out of the impossible task no longer able to face the world,
as the world would reject and scorn the abomination that Ilmatar
had become. The sounds of wildlife were already coming back slowly
and Ilmatar concentrated on those soothing sounds, listening to the
steady thump of multitudes of heartbeats, the rustling of leaves
and feathers, and minds. Curling deeper into the plush material,
the mass of unnatural flesh hid away from the world as the sun
seemed to smile down softer and warmer.

•°. *
иσвℓє ρυяρℓє * .°•
•°. * тнє вєαт σf ℓανєи∂єя є¢нσєѕ σи, ι'м иσт α ωιт¢н σя αиутнιиg *
.°•
•°. * яє∂ αи∂ gяєєи тяυℓу gσ ωєℓℓ тσgєтнєя *
.°•