goddamn, i love paper like i'm michael scott // any

[Maleficar]

{maleficar}

My corrupt nature is empty of grace.

This is his favorite time of year, and not for the perverse reasons that you might typically think. He savors the way the cold night air fills his lungs and leaves him in little puffs of breath before dissipating into nothing before him. There is a faint smile across his dark face as he lifts his chin to stare at the moon – fat and pale as looms above them in full bloom. All the stars glow so brightly around it like some heavenly attendants to their divine lady. For a moment, he is aware of his self-induced loneliness and his grin turns to a fleeting frown before expressions leave him entirely.
 
Time for something new to distract him.
 
He wanders from his perch of solitude in the mountains and finds himself in the meadows. The tall grasses brush along his long legs and tangle themselves in the near-white feathering of his ankles as though greedy for his attention. Maleficar has never enjoyed being in the public eye and he feels so plain among the others that it makes him rather nervous. His dark eyes search those around him for ideas, inspiration for some spell to make him feel as though he is equal to them all. A quiet chuckle fills his throat for a moment when a thought comes creeping into focus.
 
The tall boy mumbles a few soft words as he casts his spell and dips his head toward the ground to gather a bit of the shadows cast by the grasses. Threads of darkness weave themselves across his head until a small pointed witch hat sits perfectly between his ears. He doesn’t like to change himself very much, so this is perfect for his needs – something subtle and perhaps even stylish by certain standards. Maleficar can almost hear his sisters rolling their eyes and scoffing at his choice, where ever they are. (The loneliness runs its fingers across his heart again at the thought of the other triplets. He sighs.)
 
Perhaps a long gray beard should accompany his new hat, but he decides this is plenty for now. This is already adventurous enough for him.

[Novel]

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Novel

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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

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The lazy days of summer had drifted on past her, and she had barely taken heed. Now the days shorten as the nights grow ever longer and still she barely takes note. But then, she has rarely paid attention to such things. As the weather grows colder, she simply fluffs her feathers and carries on. Snow is hardly an obstacle for one with wings.

Tonight is no different, at least on the face of it. The moon hangs bright and cold in the sky, illuminating a world breathing it's chilly exhalation as it fades from summer to winter. Leaves still barely cling to the trees, a stubborn determination she can appreciate. For the small raven flitting from tree to tree however, the shifting on seasons hardly signifies.

No, what catches her attention is a horse. At first glance, he hardly appears special. In fact, she almost overlooks him, content to ignore what does not interest her. But then, she doesn't.

For a while, she clings to the sparse trees heralding the start of the meadow. But soon enough, curiosity overwhelms her. Especially when the odd hat appears magically atop his head. With a loud squawk and an abrupt flap of her wings, she flutters across the meadow until she has landed close enough to allow her quite conspicuous study. With another caw, she fixes beady black eyes upon the strange beast before her, head tilting first one way, then the other in distinctly bird-like curiosity.

---

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.

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[Maleficar]

{maleficar}

My corrupt nature is empty of grace.

His eyes drift toward the trees as their dying leaves rustle in the cold wind. This night is uneventful so far and he entertains the idea of returning to the uninhabited regions of Beqanna. But then the sound of a raven cawing noisily catches his eyes as she flutters close by. Their eyes meet for a moment and he narrows his stare in suspicion of the sleek black bird before edging closer to her perch. Perhaps he could become a raven as well and pick her little bird brain for the latest gossip in the avian world? No, he supposes that would be rather excessive of him.

Instead, he tries to mimic her call in his normal voice and then laughs softly at his pitiful attempt. The sound is warm and comforting like basking in the summer sun. It never occurs to him that this bird may, in fact, be a girl of his own species, nor does he even begin to examine her very closely. Perhaps he’s fonder of foreign things than his own kind.

“You could use my shoulders as a perch if you want a better look at me, little bird,” he offers with a light smile as he turns to make landing easier for her. He doubts she’ll understand, let alone take him up on his offer. The little hat disappears in a puff of black ashes that slowly sink back to the ground where they belong. “My name is Maleficar. Do you mind if I call you Poe?”

How lonely he must be to make conversation with something that doesn’t even understand him. Still, no one is giving him a judgemental side eye so he doesn’t much care.

@[Novel]

[Novel]

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Novel

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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

---

She is hardly quiet in her approach, but still she is unused to her subjects paying much heed to her. An innocuous black raven is hardly an uncommon sight around here. She has grown so accustomed to the objects of her curiosity paying her such little mind that when this particular stallion actually deigns to speak to her, she is a bit taken aback.

Still, she is nigh imperturbable and swiftly recovers.

Perhaps he expects no response to his invitation, but she gives one anyway. A loud caw that echoes through the night without shyness. But that hat has caught her attention, and so she takes him up on his offer. She might have anyway, even if he had not actually made the offer. But then, ravens are often forgiven for far more than their equine counterparts. Flitting from her perch, she lands easily upon his neck, taloned claws clutching at mane and meaty crest. Hopping closer, she eyes the odd little hat with open curiosity, head tilting this way and that as the studies it.

And then it disappears in a puff of shadowy smoke.

Squawking loudly, she abruptly flaps her wings as she hops hastily backwards until her toes dig into his withers. With one last indignant squawk, she turns her head to eye him beadily. In her displeasure, she is hardly paying attention to his words until her offers her a name. The suggestion draws her pique short as her quick and flighty brain latches onto the offering.

Poe.

It seemed a good name, though she is rather terrible with names. Some days she has trouble remembering even her own. So the thought brings her short, stirring memories she had thought buried. Stirring recollections of an equine life, one no doubt not so very far removed from this curious stallion’s.

Novel. Yes, that’s it. Her name. Her real one, not the one he had so generously gifted her. A name she had been granted at birth, and one she had once shared so freely.

But perhaps she could be Poe for a day. Perhaps she could be Poe for a lifetime.

And so, she caws an agreement.

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Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.

---

[Maleficar]

{maleficar}

My corrupt nature is empty of grace.

He can’t help but laugh when she actually glides from her tree branch and makes a graceful landing on him. Of course, his mother had warned each of the witches that ravens were smarter than they let on, so be kind to them. He remains still when she edges closer with little hops up his crest until she can examine his hat, careful not to upset her balance. Another short chuckle emits from him when the hat disappears and the bird issues her complaint from further down his back. Maleficar turns his head to watch her while she considers the new title.

There seems to be a sort of consciousness much deeper than he anticipated, even in his attempt to respect her intelligence. He grows suspicious of his new companion and yet he does not feel threatened by her withheld secrets. Mal leans down to pluck a bit of dry grass and a tiny pinch of mud from the ground before he swallows it. Then he blows softly in the crow’s direction until the taste of earth and darkness forms a witch’s cap on the raven’s head. Hers is a little better formed, he thinks, probably due to its size and the practice he had with his own.

“What a fine witch you make, Poe,” he says with a faint smile. “Have you ever wished you could be someone different? I think about that sort of thing a lot.”

He turns to watch the other creatures roam the meadow as he falls silent and a slow sigh eases from his lungs. It’s true, Mal has always imagined a different kind of life for himself, one where he didn’t have sisters to miss or where he fit in better. But these are the kinds of things his magic cannot soothe and so he normally keeps the thoughts to himself. He finds it easy to confess this idea to her. Probably because she cannot speak. She will not tell him what a fool he might be to waste time dreaming like that.

@[Novel]

[Novel]

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Novel

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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

---

It is easy for ravens to hold their secrets close. Indeed, she often forgets she even has secrets. The bird is encompassing, and the dramas of the equine are rarely of interest to such fickle creatures. And while her newfound companion studies her with question in his astute gaze, she suddenly loses interest in the odd game. Another loud squawk issues forth, and with sudden alacrity she plucks a silvery white hair from the stallion’s mane.

Hopping backwards with her prize, still perched precariously atop Maleficar’s sloped spine, she peers at him with those spritely black eyes, prize clutched greedily in her beak. But her distraction lasts only a moment, for beneath his amused breath, a puff of dust curls about her, settling a tiny wizard’s hat atop her gleaming head.

Another caw sends her shiny prize fluttering as she flaps her wings wildly, claws digging into his rudy skin. Tilting her head this way and that yet still unable to spy her new adornment, she let’s out an avian grumble. Abruptly, she steps from his back, fluttering to a nearby puddle to peer at the pointed hat. After a long, silent moment, she cries her satisfaction before turning back, beady eyes fixing upon her companion.

In her commotion, the words hadn’t truly registered. At this point, he must think her nothing more than a silly bird. But as she stares at him, understanding of his admission sinks in. Someone different. Truly, she hadn’t considered it too much. Bird and horse are each different in their own respects, and yet both are still she. Still Novel.

Sometimes, it is easy to forget though. When she is a raven, it’s easy to forget the horse. To get lost in the bird. Like now, when she can barely remember a time she had been like him. Flapping her wings, she tilts her head as she peers at him. For a moment, oily black melts into midnight blue and dusty orange. For a moment, the oddly colored raven simply stares. Then, she fluffs her wings before black melts over her feathers once more.

Once again she is just a bird. As though she has forgotten how to be anything else other than a raven.

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Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.

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