avian mistake (tomtord)

moon motel

he pushed open the chipped glass door and was greeted by dim purple line lights that gave off a vintage vibe. the lady at the counter looked like your common italian.

jet black hair that curled with every strandand thick eye liner. her lips were beyond red and her young face doubted her voice.

"you lost, hon?" she asked in a voice said she smoked one to many cigarettes. the murky room said the same, aswell.

"no."

"let me see your i.d." she demanded.

"whats an i.d.?" tord asked, walking up to the desk, staring in awe at the pretty lights.

"kid, let me call your parents."

"oh boy. i havent seen those guys in a long time."

"how old are you?"

"somewhere around 17."

she stared at tord with a face of boredom.

"just.. here." she sighed, tossing keys at tord. "on the house."

"what does-"

"free."

he navigated his way to the room number that was engraved into the key. it lead him through a narrow, dark hallway that was only lit by the purple line lights. there waa his room, three doors from the end of the hall.

he unlocked the room and pushed opened the door.

the room contrasted the halls and wait room. it was a wooden interior with tan carpeting. it kind of hurt his eyes. he was so used too the darkness, that one light bulb hanging on a string was eye straining.

after he adjusted to the brightness he settled down on the bed. today was a long day. one minute he was in his cave and the next he was diving off a cliff.

and people thought wings were cool.

there are always downsides to things.

he entered the washroom and looked in the mirror. he spread out his wings in the cramped space he was provided. he began to manually pick out dirt between the feathers of his wings.

he couldnt retract his wings in showers because then they would be wet. and when he would go to store them (tord has pocket like spaces in his back when he can keep his wings.) the water would stay in his back so everytime he went to retract his wings they would be damp. then he couldnt fly normally, which lifted the risk of him being captured.

so water was a no-no. he could only shower with his wings stored.

while he was used to the time consuming procedure of lifting the feathers and peeling off dirt, he would rather keep clean instead of having grimy wings. even though most likely no one would be exposed to such a freak like himself, he would just do it for the sake of self image. his thoughts of himself were not all that positive.

for one, he had wings. 

wings.

normal people didnt have wings. sure, flying was fun but flying away from his fear (being captured) was not. he would rather just be another face in the crowd than a single in the sky. he wanted to have a back that did not have two large slits that would expose large swan wings. he wanted to have bones that were not lighter than a feather plucked from his back, and decreased his immunity to breaking bones. he wanted lungs that did not shelter air sacs, enabling him to fly as high as planes. 

he just wanted to be normal. 

he was not all that confident about the outside either. 

his constant, stubborn hairstyle that irked him at the sight of it. and he was short, standing a spooking 5'2. that was last time he checked, at least. he was sure he did not get any taller, nevertheless. his eyes made him look dead. they were a murky grey, like the fog he had flown through times before was trapped in the iris. and he did not really have the correct anatomy for a male.  his hips were curved, which most humans found attractive but tord certainly did not.

maybe it was because he was not human. 

anyways, he was also thin, because the trait of not gaining weight easily (bird) was passed on to him. how unlucky. swans are the largest of the bird family, but tord certainly did not tower among humans. sure, his wings were big, but they just did not match him.

there was this thing that human females enjoyed, called a magazine. tord has read one once before. it advertises makeup and artificial smells that come out of a bottle. but the only things tord payed attention to were the attractive male models. he wanted to look like them. but bird dna prevented that.

being normal was a desire.

wings were reality.