Murderous

Dreams of a Wounded Bird Part 2

When she opened her eyes, Octavia saw that she was standing before a pond. Sat at the center of the pond in a perfectly placed beam of light was a singular swan. She was gorgeous. Every feather on her body was perfect. Her demeanor was one of grace and sophistication, but also innocence. The flap of wings turned Octavia's attention above herself. Gliding over the pond was a grey owl. It was a strange sight. The sun was high in the sky, yet this nocturnal bird insisted on observing something. The swan. He glided back and forth across the pond, keeping his eyes on the swan. The swan looked up at the owl, and bowed her head. The owl, seeing this signal, landed on a rock jutting from the pond near its center. The owl and swan looked at each other for a while. The owl twisting his head at many angles, and the swan swimming in circles around the rock to see all sides of the owl. Neither spoke.

The silence was broken by someone humming. Someone Octavia hadn't noticed before stepped up to the pond. She wasn't quite sure what this person was. His skin was a tan or peach color and his hair was white and well groomed. He looked a lot like the Magnes, yet lacked the rosey cheeks and white skin of Lucifer and Charlotte, nor did he bear horns like Lilith. Furthermore, he didn't give off the feeling of a powerful demon capable of such a form. It was that indescribable feeling that you are among someone powerful, as if their energy was emanating from them and making itself known. No, this man had the feeling of an imp. As in there was no feeling at all. No energy. All was calm. Could he be disguised? No. There was no deceit or magick around him. She could feel it, or rather, not feel it. She didn't even know what it would feel like to be around a demon in disguise, but she knew this was not it.

Man: Ah. Good day to you, madam swan. Oh, and to you as well, sir owl. I must say you are up rather early.

Owl: I couldn't sleep. I saw this majestic creature here in the pond and had to investigate her. Her allure is strangely immense.

Swan: I'm flattered, mister owl.

Octavia was not expecting the birds to speak. She was ready for philosophical visions based on secrets rooted deep in her psyche, not a children's story.

Man: Oh, but sir owl, this swan, as beautiful as she is, is not meant for you.

Owl: But why, sir? Her elegance is awe inspiring! Her grace draws me in! I cannot avoid her!

Swan: I am once again flattered, sir owl.

Man: Indeed she is all those things, but she is also many other things. You must trust me, owl, she is not for you.

Owl: But why?

A cat stepped over to the pond.

Cat: Yes, why?

Man: The words elude me, friends. But have I not tended this pond for so long? Am I not worthy of your trust?

A lamb walked to the pond and drank from the waters. Octavia decided to not question where these animals were coming from and why they always stayed out of her sight until right next to the pond. It wasn't important enough to become annoyed about.

Lamb: Yes. Listen to the man. He has done nothing but care for us. We must listen to him. He deserves our trust. Heed his words, dear owl.

Owl: But I am smitten with the swan! I must know why I cannot be with her!

Man: There are qualities you have, madam swan, that are very admirable and appealing, but I know there are others that are not as such. Not terrible, I say, just incompatible with the owl.

Swan: But he is so kind!

Man: He may be kind, but he is also imperceptive. He sees your feathers and your eyes, but not your heart. Not deeper.