w i n g l e s s { flight } >> standalone

[semper]

It’s actually a rather nice winter day out. The trees have lost their leaves, yes, but there’s a strange beauty in death. (It’s only something that nature can achieve, not humans.) When you look at the trees you don’t just see a dry thing of wood standing and reaching out in all directions – you know that, come spring, there will be buds blossoming at the ends and flowers blooming; bees will be buzzing and spreading pollen, the birds will sing again, and nature will be rejuvenated. Honestly, nothing in nature truly is dead forever: it’s an endless circle of recycling. We humans just can’t do that. When people are born they are taught to believe that they are superior to Mother Nature and don’t owe anything to it. What they don’t realize is that when something is constant, like nature, you need to cooperate with it because it’ll outlast you. Otherwise you’ll be screwed over. I open the barn door and let out a two toned whistle, one high pitch and another low, and after a few moments I see Dakota’s head stick out of her stall. A smile crosses my face. (Progress, yeah?) The door closes behind me and I make a beeline toward her. I take my cloak off and hang it on a hook outside her stall, picking up her bucket, filling it, and hanging it in inside. She shoves her nose down and eats the feed like she hasn’t been fed in a week. I shake my head and reach out to rub her fuzzy ear. ”Damn, don’t make yourself sick, okay?” She, of course, ignores my advice, and a few minutes later she’s just licking the bucket. It doesn’t take very long for me to groom her and in a childish manner I take some time to just stick my hand in her thick fur, rubbing it back and forth. All my life I’ve never had a pet, and when I was assigned to Dakota, honestly, it was a strangely gleeful moment. She was hard to handle at first but we’ve worked through that, and today I plan to just strengthen our bond. In my opinion we fit each other: I’m stubborn, she’s stubborn, I’m loud, she’s loud, etc. (If I didn’t know any better I’d say that Captain purposefully paired us together.) She has an awful habit of trying to bite my ass when I try to pick her hooves and I swear there’s always at least one person around to see it happen every time; today she tried only half-heartedly so I was able to swat her head away. Dakota did, however, slap me in the face with her tail, to which I swore very loudly. I tack her up carefully and attach the padded martingale, making sure everything is in order. Since it’s not a mission I add a saddle bag behind the cantle and in the front, sticking a canteen of water in one. I actually am also able to sneak a few treats into another pouch without her spotting them and snapping her jaws at me like some vicious, rabid dog going after a juicy steak. A halter and lead rope also go in a pouch. I slip the reins over her head and pull her out of the stall and have her stand while I pull my cloak back on. ”Hey, Captain!” Whether or not he was in the stable is a mystery, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. At least I tried. ”I’m heading a kilometer north for a little bit and coming right back. Just so you know and so you can’t pull the ‘you-didn’t-tell-me’ shit later.” Outside of the barn I hoist myself up into the saddle. Dakota’s antsy, prancing in place and eager to go but I hold her back at a somewhat calm walk for the time being. Outside of the barrier, I let her trot; then, after a few minutes, I let her run. She tosses her head and throws a few bucks – I know we’re supposed to scold the horses when they do that but I’d feel bad for telling her to not be excited. (Putting a damper on her gallop out of the Capitol may make her start refusing to go and that’d cost us both our lives.) So I let her work out the bucks and excited squeals, direct her to fallen logs that she can sail over, and just let her have fun. Meanwhile I enjoy the rush of wind that takes my breath away and makes my eyes water. The adrenaline rush is thrilling and enjoyable, much more so than fighting any group of rebellious wanderers or a pack of rabid mutts. Dakota and I are safe while having fun, and it’s a day like today that I’ve needed for a long time. It doesn’t take long for Dakota to cool down and so soon we’re stopped. I tie the reins behind her ears and loosen the girth a little before letting her graze on a patch of grass, and then I sit down beside her. It’s not very often that we get a day to relax. If I’m to be frank, I would have much rather spent the day off at home, but such is the life of a Survey Corps member. My hand finds its way into a side pocket and I pull out a small folded thing of paper; very soft to the touch, obviously has been there a while, and when I open it up I smile broadly. I’m greeted with two smiling little faces, both framed with crazy red hair. (Just like their mother.) I don’t remember when the picture was taken but I can still hear their shrill little giggles just before they sprinted away to continue doing whatever it was they were doing – probably some prank on poor Bell. (Meeka on the left, Eclipse on the right. Two obnoxious hooligans.) I love those two more than anything and it hurts a little more every time when I realize that I’m missing watching them grow up. Nala’s raising them well, though, that I’m sure of. She and Bell are doing the best they can and I know it’ll be more than enough t— Velvet lips slomp down on the corner of the picture and a rush of warm air hits my hand and arm. My eyes grow wide when the lips start moving and I realize that the prized picture is about to be eaten. ”DAKOTA YOU FUCKING COW DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE EAT THIS PICTURE OR SO HELP ME I’LL SKIN YOU SEVEN WAYS AND LET THE SQUAD FEAST ON DAKOTA-KA-BOBS.” Her ears flicker back and I yank the picture away, finding a bit of the corner has been chewed off. Neither of their faces were ruined so I emit a rather loud sigh of relief and quickly fold the picture up and shove it back into my pocket for safekeeping. Dakota reaches her head back toward me and I fight the urge to smack her away, so instead I gently stroke her face and focus on how fuzzy it is. ”You weren’t really going to eat it… right?” Her muzzle dips down to sniff at the grass by my leg. (I’ll take that as a no.) My hand moves up and ruffles her forelock, moving on then to rub her ear again. I stick my thumb inside and scratch her favorite spot; her head tilts to the side and leans into the pressure, bringing back that light smile to my face. ”Okay, okay, you’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again, alright?” I stand up and wipe the dirt off. ”Now don’t throw me off on the way back because I don’t want Captain spitting fire down my neck for an invisible speck of dust on my uniform. Do that for me and you’ll get all your treats.”

table by anzie <33



we weren't born to follow
come on and get up off your knees
when life is a bitter pill to swallow
you gotta hold on to what you believe
believe that the sun will shine tomorrow
and that your saints and sinners bleed
we weren't born to follow