At first you think this door has crossed swords on it, and you quickly think again about entering. A sword fight in this place seems a little too intense for you. But then you see that they aren't crossed swords, but crossed feathers. Two feathers making an 'X' on the door. Feathers? You think you can probably handle that.
Behind the door is a long, broad room with floor to ceiling windows all down one side. The glass is clouded, so you can't see out, but light is pouring in like the sunniest of sunny mornings. It's the cleanest, brightest room you've been in.
You can quickly see the origin of the logo too, the room isn't an aviary, but there are a lot of large cages around, full of exotic looking birds. The cages hang from the ceiling, and in other places are standing on the long bench-tables that run up and down the long chamber. There are books and scraps of paper everywhere. Further away there seem to be other things, but they're at the other end of the room and you can't really tell what they are.
The birds rustle and flap, but are otherwise blessedly quiet.
The room is so big in fact, and so full of movement and light that you don't notice your opponent until she starts moving towards you.
"Hi, I suppose you're here to 'fight' me, huh?"
For a moment your jaw hangs open. Neither fighting, nor fucking are the first things you think about when you see this woman. She's barefoot, dressed in a simple, light summer dress and with her shoulder-length chestnut hair held back with a plain hair-band. But she's absolutely stunning - a pure beauty if ever there was one. Every girl you've seen in here so far has been cute, or sexy, but this woman (not a girl, a woman) puts them all in their place. She's more than a model, she's a paragon - a dream. You don't think about fucking her you think about... kissing her, dating her, doing anything to earn a smile from her. Her face is perfect, her complexion is flawless and the swell of her breasts - perhaps a little too large, but adorably so - beneath her dress makes your heart hammer.
She's probably a little older than all the other girls you've met so far. Around thirty perhaps, but she's barely showing it. It's more in her carriage, the way she moves and smiles - with experience - that it shows. She smiles, and the skin at the corner of her bottomless hazel eyes crinkles a little. "My name's Felicity." She's holding a long, green feather from one of the birds in her perfect, dainty fingers.
You stammer out your own name in response, and she laughs. "There's no need to be nervous," she's ten meters away now, "this'll all be over very soon." Over? You're so caught up in your daydreams of romance and marriage that it takes you a moment to register that she's raising the feather and pointing the tip at you, like... like a dart?
She throws it, and the feather flies at you with uncanny accuracy. It's only sheer animal instinct that saves you as you stumble backwards, snatch the closest thing to hand (a book from one of the tables) and bring it between you and her. The feather thunks into the book as you stumble and fall backwards onto your ass.
"Oh! That was good!" She claps her hands and does an ADORABLE little jump of joy. Goddamnit she's divine. But apparently crazy too. Looking down you see that the tip of the feather is hollow, and full of some kind of liquid. Poison darts. This place is insane. |