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queenofheartsrp2011-02-25 12:19 pm
willbereborn.livejournal.com) wrote in queenofheartsrp2011-02-25 12:19 pm
four ❚ action.
[ Fire is something that is natural for Birdie. Fire is what she is, in a way. The phoenix loves it, sings to it, dances for it, celebrates its warmth and ultimately, sees no harm in it, but somehow, the burning flowers left her little heart sad.
A wolf had brought her a piece of metal - a medal, but she does not know that for she has never seen one, doesn't know what it means. She can't read either, so she has no idea what is written there. She knows they are words, but doesn't know how to put them together. There's still so much to learn and really, she wants to, but she doesn't seem very keen of it as of late. The whole caged feel... It gets her down and even if she can fly as far as the sky lets her, she can't get out of the Gardens. They're pretty and peaceful and the people are nice and the magic is warm but a prison is a prison and the phoenix feels anxious when she thinks about it.
She sits at the lake's shore, legs like in a Yoga position, butterfly-style, elbows tucked in close to her body and torso slightly hunched forward. She stares at the rhythmically calm waters and wiggles her nose a little, before moving her eyes to the pebbles near her. She grabs a handful, tries to pick the smoothest ones, and curls her hand around them, slowly, flicking her wrist, making the stone skip against the surface of the water before sinking like Caprica had taught her.
She blinks slowly and lowers her head to the medal in front of her and frowns. She doesn't know what it means, but she knows somehow it's about the flowers. So she feels a little sad every time she takes a look at it and it shows on her little face. She makes a small noise to show it, too, and hugs her knees to her chest, cheek resting on them. She's confused, she's trapped and she can't fly away. And the spoiled little thing just wants to crawl against someone and block out everything. ]
A wolf had brought her a piece of metal - a medal, but she does not know that for she has never seen one, doesn't know what it means. She can't read either, so she has no idea what is written there. She knows they are words, but doesn't know how to put them together. There's still so much to learn and really, she wants to, but she doesn't seem very keen of it as of late. The whole caged feel... It gets her down and even if she can fly as far as the sky lets her, she can't get out of the Gardens. They're pretty and peaceful and the people are nice and the magic is warm but a prison is a prison and the phoenix feels anxious when she thinks about it.
She sits at the lake's shore, legs like in a Yoga position, butterfly-style, elbows tucked in close to her body and torso slightly hunched forward. She stares at the rhythmically calm waters and wiggles her nose a little, before moving her eyes to the pebbles near her. She grabs a handful, tries to pick the smoothest ones, and curls her hand around them, slowly, flicking her wrist, making the stone skip against the surface of the water before sinking like Caprica had taught her.
She blinks slowly and lowers her head to the medal in front of her and frowns. She doesn't know what it means, but she knows somehow it's about the flowers. So she feels a little sad every time she takes a look at it and it shows on her little face. She makes a small noise to show it, too, and hugs her knees to her chest, cheek resting on them. She's confused, she's trapped and she can't fly away. And the spoiled little thing just wants to crawl against someone and block out everything. ]
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Miss? Are you all right?
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Or, well, in this case, country-people.
Birdie looks over her shoulder, then up to the other girl and tilts her head. She does look sad, she has quite the expressive face, but still, she forces a tiny smile that, while rather miserable, it's still genuine in its own way. ]
I'm a bit sad, a little bit. [ She leans her chin back on her knees, staring at the lake. ] It's sad, the flowers, the violence. I don't like it, no.
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I don't think anyone likes it, really. But the loss of the flowers is very sad... Would you like some company?
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I-- [ She stares at the medal and traces a finger around its edges, nodding again. ] It's okay, if you stay here, yes, I don't mind. I'd like that.
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I'm Canada, by the by.
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Hello, yes, Canada. [ She says her name slowly, as if trying out a new word. ] I am Birdie.
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[ Usually, Birdie is a mouthful of questions and of words and sounds, but she's uncharacteristically quiet today. Maybe she's letting that weird sort of feeling sinking in, that feeling of sadness. It's not that she doesn't know sadness, she just isn't used to it anymore. The Gardens are nice, even though a cage, but the fact that sort of thing would happen here kind of leaves Birdie's hope a bit shattered. ]
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But getting angry doesn't do anything to help. She of all people knows that. Today she's gone for a walk across the Gardens, just to try and relax a little bit. Her medal is in the pocket of her leather jacket, and she toys with it idly now and again as she walks.
Eventually she spies a familiar enough figure beside the shore of the lake — a familiarity that's confirmed a moment later when a stone skips across the surface of the water. Despite herself, Caprica smiles a little.
She approaches and crouches down slowly next to Birdie, crossing her arms over her knees. Her eyes linger on the medal the phoenix has in her hands, just like Caprica's own, before she speaks. ]
What's wrong?
[ She knows something is; she isn't blind. ]
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It's very sad, yes, all of this? [ She turns back to the lake, watching it without really seeing anything, more focused on the horizon. ] I don't like fighting, no, no. It's-- scary. [ Birdie still struggles a lot with words, she's more fitted to tune her feelings with rhythms and songs rather than the spoken language. She frowns, as if the struggle bothers her. It's not all of it, of course. Being trapped is much like suffocating to her so she shakes her head. ]
And I can't leave, here, and I like the people, I do, I do, and the magic, too, yes, but... [ She makes another frustrated noise. Words, words, words. She makes another sound instead, shaking her head, a sound that basically means "I give up in trying to explain things I can't explain through words." She half hides her face behind her knees and pouts, like a spoiled kid. ]
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But we're stuck here.
[ And Caprica can't help the feeling, also, that they're being manipulated, played with — but she's not going to articulate that right now; she doesn't want to make Birdie even more upset. ]
I don't think anyone likes being trapped.
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No, no, it is true, I don't think so. [ She sighs, then blows some of that pale blonde hair out of her face. ] But people like to trap others, isn't it? [ Birdie looks down, to the round piece of metal that has been given to her. She traces a fingertip on the embossed letters and frowns lightly, before pushing it towards Caprica. ]
What is it?
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You look so sad.
why.
Very sad, yes, it is. [ She pouts. ]
you Know.
so many tears
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The flowers were sad, yes, and lonely too, and they turned against those that harmed them, they did. [ She sounds so very sad. ] It wasn't their fault, no. Maybe it was the Queen's, maybe.
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Yikes.
Does the Queen do that kind of thing often?
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I don't like her, she trapped us here, she did.
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Curious.]
Looks like it... [gently brushing her hair behind her ear desu.] You don't like it here...?
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It's nice, here, with the magic, and the people, too, they are okay with it. But, here, I am trapped, caged, I don't like it, I can't fly far enough. [ Birdie tilts her head back, eyes on the sky. ] Can't find the missing stars here, either, no.
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What missing stars? [and she looks up.]
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Back where I was, yes? The missing Stars are gone and I have to find them, yes I do. [ She rocks side to side absent-minded, heels digging into the soft ground of the shore. ] Because of magic, it's chained, forbidden, from where I come from.
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Instead, she knits her eyebrows. She doesn't look too fake, just sympathetic enough.]
That's kind of sad.
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And you? [ She suddenly asks, turning her attention back to her again. ] The flowers, did they get you, did they?
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What's that, what is it, a bullet?
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