netter_buggy (netter_buggy) wrote in thefirstline,

Something's better than nothing, right?
It could be done much better but I just did it so bleh.

He stands, backlit by the setting sun, which pours in through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk. He pinches the skin between his eyes with long, pale, strong fingers as if he has a head ache, then slams his hands onto his desk. As he pants for air, sweat pours off his face and drips onto the finely polished wood. His arched back quivers then, with a terrifying cry, the back of his $1000.00 suit rips open to reveals large, black, feathered wings caked in blood.

Rivi woke with a start, the dream rousing her ten minutes before her alarm went off. Hanging for a moment, she thought about what she saw in her head. Part of her could still hear the man's scream as he broke out, hear the ripping of the clothing, smell the blood. Vivid dreams she didn't take lightly and that was was damn vivid. Cracking her own wings open, Rivi let the cool of her apartment tell her she had been sweating in her sleep. Her mouth was dry and her stomach growled. It was rare she woke up hungry, breakfast was a rare occurrence but today apparently was different. That was the problem with vivid dreams: They took a lot out of her.

Shifting all her weight to her right wing's 2nd fingers, she slid the left to the side before carefully flipping down and planting her socked feet on the old wooden floor. After stretching her body and all six limbs, Rivi smiled at the view from her apartment. She lived in the top story of a building that used to be a bank with a giant clock on top over a century ago. When the bank went broke a rich man bought it and turned it into an apartment complex for the rich. Eventually it went down hill then it leveled out at the middle class who worked but could still live comfortably. Unlike the floors below, Rivi had this whole floor to herself and for a cheap rate.

Originally the land lord and she didn't get along because she was a mutant, a freak, a monster, call it what you will, she was no longer "human." According to the government she was a flier type A, 4F, 7S, female white. That meant she could fly, she and the others assumed type A meant "angelic," her wings folded four times, something no scientist could explain, she had seven spikes on the tips of each wing which where filled with a poison she used as means of defense and her feathers were white.

Knowing the coffee maker wouldn't turn on for another 7 minutes, Rivi stretched, groomed her wings by folding them over one another, allowing her spikes to straighten out any feathers that had become dis shelved over the course of the night, then proceeded to dress. Once she had her tennis shoes on, Rivi turned on her computer, a mere laptop, and waited for the coffee pot to finish brewing.

Once the hot cup of Joe was in her hand Rivi sat down on the computer. It was a bad habit she had of waking up early, drinking a pot of coffee and playing around on the computer before going to work but she enjoyed it. As the internet browser opened, she assumed what Binx called the "L position." Sitting on her chair, she pulled her knees to her chest and let her heels rest on the edge of the seat. She had the first fold of her wings opened and her 2nd fold, or joint, resting on the floor. Once done, the web browser's home page displayed a log in screen to the website of Wings Inc., her business.

As a day job, Rivi flew for a delivery service. Parcels, gifts, overdue papers and the such were what she took care of but every now and again she got an important job, like delivering an organ to a hospital where a patient was waiting for a transplant. That was how her land lord came to respect her; she delivered a kidney his wife needed. The kidney had come from Miami but the plane didn't make it to New York as it had planned but had to make an emergency stop outside of Atlanta. The kind of emergency that strips the plane of all landing gear and kill forty people. Once the doctor waiting to perform the transplant heard of the accident, he made all the calls necessary, got all the paper work pushed through and in less than a hour Rivi was heading south to pick it up with her own two wings. What would have taken more than a day she did in four hours and gained the respect of Hector, her land lord.

Wings Inc. was Rivi's summer job. Since traveling by bike was easier in the summer than winter, Rivi took it upon herself to set up a school to teach others to fly. What started as a side project three years ago turned into a full blown community with active forums and a surprisingly tight knit group. There were a fair amount of type A's as well as type B's, those with wings that were first described as a bat's, and a handful of type C; miscellaneous.
Putting her coffee down, Rivi posted about her dream and went about her regular morning routine before work.

Late fall in New York was deceptive. What looked like a nice sunny day was actually cold and biting. Leather was a great investment since the wind at various heights was much more sharp than that on the ground but something about being different kept Rivi from getting any form of frost bite.

At the end of the day, when she'd fulfilled her share of hours, Rivi welcomed the warmth of her tower top apartment and a large mug of cocoa. Just before she sat down infront of the computer, she looked to the west to take in the early setting sun. The smog of the city turned it many different hues, returning her mind to the dream. With a little huff, she sat down and signed in.

There were 86 responses to her morning post. On the first page 12 others had had the same dream.
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