The letter had arrived three nights ago, on the doorstep to the derelict warehouse Rain was currently staying in, and he ran his fingers over the shiny, gold lettering on the expensive paper. Michael Haart was blazoned across the top of the letter, and even just reading his real name made his lip curl with distaste. The contents of the letter hadn't interested him at first, hence why it had taken him three days to return to it. What did interest him though, and the reason he had returned to it at all, was that it was his real name scrawled across in the mocking gold writing, and as far as he was aware, no one knew that he was called anything other than Rain. The other question, of course, was how they'd found him. Rain could feel himself growing frustrated as he considered whether to go to this miracle holiday home. On the one hand, he knew it may well simply be some sort of trapped for people to catch him and test him - but then again, if they knew where he was living, he'd be with them already. On the other hand though...this invitation could be genuine, and Rain was never one to turn down anything if it was free.
Sighing, and growling, he crumpled the offending slip of paper and through it across the warehouse. It landed with barely a sound on the dusty ground. Frustrated and uncertain, Rain went to the corner where he had erected a sheet for him to live under. The space was tiny, but it had his blankets and his microwave (stolen, obviously) and it was almost always warm. He ate his last microwave meal, not bothering to cook it properly before he wolfed it down. Frustrated, he then curled up on his blankets and fell asleep.
Rain awoke several hours later, to a familiar, yet infuriating sound. He could hear the tapping of rain on the roof of the decaying warehouse, and he could feel the lower thud of rain striking his little shelter. "Fucks sake!" he cursed, reaching to grab the torch that he kept beside his makeshift bed. He shone it upwards, at the tarpaulin that was his only barrier between warmth and the rain, and a suspicious looking dark patch had gathered in the middle, which bowed dangerously low. Running a hand through his hair, Rain shrugged on a hoody and then a jacket, pulling the hoods of both up. He pushed his feet back into his worn boots, and took an old rucksack, which he then stuffed with clean clothes. There wasn't much to pack, really. He kept nothing personal. After packing enough clothing to last him a couple days, he rolled free of his little shelter and trudged grumpily over to the invitation. It was soaked with the rain, and he scowled as he scanned the fading letters one last time. He memorized the address printed on the bottom, and then dropped the paper again. He paused, shifting from foot to foot as he anxiously attempted to make a decision, and then exhaled slowly.
"Fuck it"
Turning on his heel at the behest of the familiar uncomfortable scratching of his back, Rain climbed the stairs that led up onto the roof of the wretched building he had just moments ago called home. Once he was outside properly, the cold struck him like a knife, and his namesake quickly began to soak him. Rain sighed, closing his eyes and forced himself to calm, even just a little. It took a moment, but soon he felt wings unfurling at his shoulders, and the welcome release that accompanied the sensation.He glanced back at them, and couldn't help but smile very slightly in anticipation of flight. The wings appeared solid, though were ethereal. The black glossy feathers seemed to resist the rain and shifted as though unaffected by the wind too. Of course, they didn't rip his clothes as they simply didn't attach directly to his back. Instead, they were simply bound to him, much like his shadow. He gave them an experimental flap, and then made his final decision. There was no turning back now. Rain raced towards the edge of the building, his feet hitting the puddled ground hard as he pushed himself forwards, and then dived off the roof of the warehouse.
Rain inhaled sharply as his wings opened, catching the air and bearing him into the sky as he rose from the dive. His blood pounded through his veins, adrenaline and exhilaration running through him like blood. He clutched his bag to his chest tightly as he altered his course, his wings dipping and shifting to accommodate the change of direction. Rain flew through the night, tiring slowly as he did, and then flew towards the rising sun for the beginning of the next morning. He began to wonder if this place really existed, and just as he was about to give up hope, a break in the blanket of green trees below him proved to be the building he was looking for.
The angel-like creature circled the area three times, searching for somewhere to land that wasn't too far from the building. He was tired, unused to flying such distances is such a short time, and his arms ached slightly from holding his bag so tightly, and catching it that one time he had dropped it. In short, Rain was feeling wet, cold, tired and sore, and certainly not in the mood to walk any distance to this so called haven. He'd seen the people below him, and couldn't recognize if they were 'like him' or simply humans, but right then, he didn't care. After circling the third time, Rain simply gave up. He alighted on the roof of the building itself, and walked down the stairs from there.
He found himself in a long hall, with doors every few feet or so. Moving to the first one, he listened, and hearing silence, eased it open. Inside was a bedroom, and Rain's relief was only second to his comic disbelief. A real bedroom. After spending six months in a dingy warehouse, a room with four distinct walls and windows and a solid roof was a luxury in itself. Rain stepped in slowly, looking around as his wings faded into his back once again. The bed (a real bed!) was made up, and the room itself seemed empty in it's neutrality, and he made the assumption that it wasn't occupied. There was another door set into one of the walls, which he opened, and his eyes opened in unbridled gratitude. A bathroom, with a bath and a shower and a toilet. Rain grinned and dropped his sopping bag next to his bed, and then pulled out his dryer clothes. He threw them onto the bed and then gleefully went into the bathroom, and indulged in a long, hot bath.
Rain was beginning to like it here. Warmed by the hot water, relaxed and at ease, he stepped out a half hour later, and put a towel around his waist before pulling on a pair of jeans. Walking bare foot and bare chested, Rain went back to the bed and began to sort through his clothes, his mind turning to who else might be here. He kept the door to his bedroom open, looking up at it often to look for other people.
Sighing, and growling, he crumpled the offending slip of paper and through it across the warehouse. It landed with barely a sound on the dusty ground. Frustrated and uncertain, Rain went to the corner where he had erected a sheet for him to live under. The space was tiny, but it had his blankets and his microwave (stolen, obviously) and it was almost always warm. He ate his last microwave meal, not bothering to cook it properly before he wolfed it down. Frustrated, he then curled up on his blankets and fell asleep.
Rain awoke several hours later, to a familiar, yet infuriating sound. He could hear the tapping of rain on the roof of the decaying warehouse, and he could feel the lower thud of rain striking his little shelter. "Fucks sake!" he cursed, reaching to grab the torch that he kept beside his makeshift bed. He shone it upwards, at the tarpaulin that was his only barrier between warmth and the rain, and a suspicious looking dark patch had gathered in the middle, which bowed dangerously low. Running a hand through his hair, Rain shrugged on a hoody and then a jacket, pulling the hoods of both up. He pushed his feet back into his worn boots, and took an old rucksack, which he then stuffed with clean clothes. There wasn't much to pack, really. He kept nothing personal. After packing enough clothing to last him a couple days, he rolled free of his little shelter and trudged grumpily over to the invitation. It was soaked with the rain, and he scowled as he scanned the fading letters one last time. He memorized the address printed on the bottom, and then dropped the paper again. He paused, shifting from foot to foot as he anxiously attempted to make a decision, and then exhaled slowly.
"Fuck it"
Turning on his heel at the behest of the familiar uncomfortable scratching of his back, Rain climbed the stairs that led up onto the roof of the wretched building he had just moments ago called home. Once he was outside properly, the cold struck him like a knife, and his namesake quickly began to soak him. Rain sighed, closing his eyes and forced himself to calm, even just a little. It took a moment, but soon he felt wings unfurling at his shoulders, and the welcome release that accompanied the sensation.He glanced back at them, and couldn't help but smile very slightly in anticipation of flight. The wings appeared solid, though were ethereal. The black glossy feathers seemed to resist the rain and shifted as though unaffected by the wind too. Of course, they didn't rip his clothes as they simply didn't attach directly to his back. Instead, they were simply bound to him, much like his shadow. He gave them an experimental flap, and then made his final decision. There was no turning back now. Rain raced towards the edge of the building, his feet hitting the puddled ground hard as he pushed himself forwards, and then dived off the roof of the warehouse.
Rain inhaled sharply as his wings opened, catching the air and bearing him into the sky as he rose from the dive. His blood pounded through his veins, adrenaline and exhilaration running through him like blood. He clutched his bag to his chest tightly as he altered his course, his wings dipping and shifting to accommodate the change of direction. Rain flew through the night, tiring slowly as he did, and then flew towards the rising sun for the beginning of the next morning. He began to wonder if this place really existed, and just as he was about to give up hope, a break in the blanket of green trees below him proved to be the building he was looking for.
The angel-like creature circled the area three times, searching for somewhere to land that wasn't too far from the building. He was tired, unused to flying such distances is such a short time, and his arms ached slightly from holding his bag so tightly, and catching it that one time he had dropped it. In short, Rain was feeling wet, cold, tired and sore, and certainly not in the mood to walk any distance to this so called haven. He'd seen the people below him, and couldn't recognize if they were 'like him' or simply humans, but right then, he didn't care. After circling the third time, Rain simply gave up. He alighted on the roof of the building itself, and walked down the stairs from there.
He found himself in a long hall, with doors every few feet or so. Moving to the first one, he listened, and hearing silence, eased it open. Inside was a bedroom, and Rain's relief was only second to his comic disbelief. A real bedroom. After spending six months in a dingy warehouse, a room with four distinct walls and windows and a solid roof was a luxury in itself. Rain stepped in slowly, looking around as his wings faded into his back once again. The bed (a real bed!) was made up, and the room itself seemed empty in it's neutrality, and he made the assumption that it wasn't occupied. There was another door set into one of the walls, which he opened, and his eyes opened in unbridled gratitude. A bathroom, with a bath and a shower and a toilet. Rain grinned and dropped his sopping bag next to his bed, and then pulled out his dryer clothes. He threw them onto the bed and then gleefully went into the bathroom, and indulged in a long, hot bath.
Rain was beginning to like it here. Warmed by the hot water, relaxed and at ease, he stepped out a half hour later, and put a towel around his waist before pulling on a pair of jeans. Walking bare foot and bare chested, Rain went back to the bed and began to sort through his clothes, his mind turning to who else might be here. He kept the door to his bedroom open, looking up at it often to look for other people.