suddenly alive -- corrie

[richard daemon glavan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee384/chevygirl_1375/Backgrounds/crazykira-resources_614.jpg)][atrb=style, padding: 10px;] i can finally breathe Suddenly alive, I can finally move, the world feels revived. This long of a struggle finally opened up my eyes, revolutions not easy with a civil war on the inside. No need to hide anything anymore, can’t return to who I was before. I can finally breathe Shirts. Richard was pretty sure that they were the bane to his existence considering his large wings practically made it impossible for him to even wear them, let alone put them on. Sure, he could have cut holes in the back so that they fit through the shirt, but not only was that incredibly inconvenient, it was also a bit stupid, especially if he was walking around in his human form. After all, what kind of person would walk around with giant holes in the back of their shirt? So instead Richard usually went with tank tops, which were a pain in the ass to get on and off, but offered quite a bit more freedom and they already had holes that his wings were able to fit out of. Still, he hated them almost as much as he hated shirts. That was the thing that he really missed about Ancient Greece; more than half the time he could get away without even wearing anything that covered his back and chest, and when he did need them covered they were easy to slip past the wings and still gave him comfort and the option of movement. But he wasn’t in Greece, and he definitely wasn’t in ancient Greece, therefore he couldn’t very well walk around in a toga without someone thinking he was going to a fraternity house party. Oh no, Richard had done his time as a frat brother and it was one of the few things he had done in life that he honest to god regretted even considering. But, with his tank top now on and the hardest part of his day over, Richard was going to go out and…well actually he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do. He considered going out and causing a little hell, putting more of a stain on that “angel stereotype” that everyone seemed to have gained over the centuries. Whoever said that angels were all kind and sticklers for the rules had obviously never met Richard, who was by far more related to the tales they told of Trickster gods than anything else. Not that you would ever hear him complain about that of course. Stepping outside of his house, he looked around for a moment and gave a rather appreciative glance at a woman who was walking her dog on the sidewalk, giving her a light smile and a wink that could have easily have gotten him slapped. However, this particular angel was rather smooth and rarely did he ever get into trouble. At least not with the women. Ladies’ man. Ass man. Dick. They were all names he had heard to describe him before, and they were all accurate if he did say so himself, and no, he didn’t mind in the slightest. Twelve hundred years on this Earth and Richard had hardly changed since the day that he realized women were beautiful and boobs were some of the greatest pieces of work on the planet. In his human form, the normally six foot and nine inch angel was shrunk down to a rather short and depressing six feet, four inch form; he still towered over most of the people that he was walking past on the street, but for him that five inch difference could be compared to how a short woman feels after removing her heels. Tiny. Speaking of women in heels, would you look at that? His eyes followed a particularly dashing young woman, though he didn’t leer at her, simply gazed while a smile pulled on the corners of his lips lightly, and then he was facing the direction he was walking again before she had the chance to turn and find him looking. A decision on what he wanted to do had yet to be made, though the thought of pulling a couple pranks and causing a little bit of hell was still on the top of his list…at least until he looked up. A shadow crossed over the ground at his feet and his head fell back, eyes squinting lightly as the sun rays hit him in the eyes, and he watched as a hawk flew overhead. His back began to itch, right where his wings were, and he could feel the muscles behind them twitching slightly; it had been a fair amount of time since he had actually flown, especially since teleporting was so much easier and the Council actually looked down on him deciding to spread his wings in the middle of the city. “Spread my wings and fly away!” Now where the in the hell did that come from? Richard tried not to laugh as the song repeated itself in his head, knowing that a person walking on their own while laughing was all these people needed to call those men in white coats. His long strides took him down the sidewalks of the town quickly and it really didn’t take him that long to reach the edge of town, finding one of the hiking trails that led up into the mountains. Taking a moment to wander slowly and breathe, Richard found it relaxing to be able to smell the dirt and fresh air, along with the wooded scent of the trees around him, but that urge to fly was getting stronger and Richard broke into a run. Running up the hill with relative ease, he found a suitable cliff that he could just jump off and fly. Pulling off his tank top, the wings flared out suddenly, a light snapping sound as they did so, and Richard shrugged before just…stepping off. Pulling his wings in, Richard dived toward the ground before letting them out again with another snap, the edges of the wings catching an upward draft and sending him back up and into the air. He flapped his wings, feeling the pull and the strain of the muscles on his back, and then simply let himself glide through the air, pushing his wings occasionally whenever he started to dip. The archangel wasn’t particularly sure how long he was in the air, but he knew he had been up long enough and was taking a chance; risking getting seen was one thing if it was for a small amount of time, but he was starting to push his luck. He flew back toward the cliff he had stepped off of and landed rather carefully, eyes scanning the ground as his feet touched down, looking for the tank top he had dropped and not realizing the presence of anyone else in the area just yet. TAGGED ally/corrie WORDS 1,099 OUTFIT tank top and jeans NOTES mmm shirtless Richard <3

[coriander mae burgh]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i56.tinypic.com/20gfl1v.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px; ] broken hearts and broken promises WORDS 1,083 OUTFIT tank & shorts TAGGED rich NOTES ohh corrie... Coriander sometimes got a similar…itch that Richard had. Except hers wasn’t the “I’m-an-angel-so-I-can-fly” type of itch, it was more of a “I’m-part-cat-and-I-wanna-chase-mice” type of thing. If she went for a few days without shifting, she’d usually get antsy. And by that I mean she was jumpier than normal. Anything could set her off, and she was constantly looking for excuses to be outside. If she was trapped in the office all day, she would almost go crazy by the end of the day. Yesterday had been one of those days. Derek White, Corrie’s employer, had her stuck in the office sorting through paperwork. Most of it was just retyping statements and sorting papers into the right files, but it was extremely tedious and time consuming. She really hated doing it, but because she didn’t own the firm, she didn’t get to make the rules. Obviously Derek didn’t want to do the boring work himself. Why would he, when he had apprentice Corrie to boss around? So that’s exactly what he did. Towards the end of the day, Corrie just got downright moody. When Derek finally let her go, she basically sprinted out of the office. Luckily, he gave her the next day off. When Corrie woke up in the morning, she was already decided on what she wanted to do for the day. She’d make a trip up to the cliffs and shift up there. People didn’t usually go up there anyway because it was “too dangerous” or something ridiculous like that. Corrie usually when up there when she wanted to run around in her other form. It was generally quiet and more secluded, which was what she preferred when creeping around. Because her shifter form was a cat, she could usually wander around the city without much worry. But, with other supernaturals wandering around that could sometimes see through her disguise, it wasn’t safe. That morning, Corrie simply slipped on a tanktop and some shorts. She wasn’t going to be clothed for long, anyway. She slipped on her ratty shoes and grabbed her keys, ready to go. Corrie didn’t have a car, so she was used to walking everywhere. It would probably take her thirty or so minutes to walk there, but she didn’t mind. The walk was peaceful. It was early enough in the morning that there weren’t many people outside, so most people just figured that she was going for a jog. When Corrie finally reached her destination, she made quick work of stripping off her clothes. Your clothes fell off when you shifted anyway, so why not just store them first? She stashed her clothes in the trunk of one of the trees—it was the place that she usually kept her clothes—and didn’t wait long before crouching down. The shift came easily now, almost like second nature. One moment she was some naked chick on her hands and knees, the next she was a light colored Bengal, flicking her tail in amusement. Coriander tilted her ears forward, crouching low in the grass while she waited for a critter to scurry out. The grass in front of her rustled, and she pounced without another thought. Corrie missed the mouse by seconds, watching as it dart in another direction. Chuffing in frustration, Corrie spun around and took off after the thing. She moved almost silently, zipping and darting through the trees with grace. The mouse was a quick little bugger, and clearly more used to the terrain than Corrie was. Before long, she lost sight of the mouse. When she stopped, she realized that she had doubled back and ended up where she started. The place where Corrie had stashed her clothes was right next to the cliff. It was a beautiful spot, really. She scaled one of the trees, perching herself on one of the lower branches. Corrie lifted her nose to the wind, jaw parting slightly to taste the air. It was then she noticed that she was not alone. The angel’s scent hit her before she saw the creature dart by. Corrie could hear a light hiss in her ear, and she turned her head to see Finley—her guardian—crouching above her, eyes on the angel. Coriander turned her head forward again, watching curiously. The angel clearly wasn’t aware that Corrie was there because he didn’t stop his flight. She watched for a while, entranced as he cut through the air so elegantly, it made her nostalgic. The angel doubled back and landed on the cliff, still unaware of her presence. Corrie leapt from her place on the branch and landed on the ground with little noise. She shifted back into her normal form. It only took Finley a moment to realize what Corrie was planning. Coriander ignored her guardian’s annoyed hiss as she slipped her bra and panties back on. Corrie grabbed a tank top from the bush, wondering how her shirt could have ended up there. After she slipped it on, she realized that it was clearly not hers. This tank top was far too large for her (even if she was tall for a girl). It went past her hips, ending at her mid-thigh. Corrie looked back in the tree and saw her tank and shorts still sitting in the hole. "This must be his, then.”

[/b] She mused to herself, tugging on the tank. Corrie looked around for Finley, but clearly the cat had disappeared again, angry that Corrie was refusing to listen to her warnings. She understood Finley’s apprehension—generally Corrie wasn’t “safe” around the supernatural community—but the appearance of this angel was making her miss home. He reminded her, if even for a little bit, of the life she used to live.

Without bothering to check her appearance or fix her hair, Corrie stepped out of the trees to greet the angel. She had on her usual cocky grin, stopping a few feet away from the angel with a hand resting on her hip. "Don’t get dressed on my account.”[/b] She spoke, giving him a once over. "But, I think this is yours.”[/b] Corrie tugged the tank top off, tossing it in the angel’s direction. She wiggled her fingers at him before disappearing back into the woods to collect her clothes. She grinned to herself as she slipped on her clothes, hoping that the angel would take the bait and follow her. He would be stupid not to. How often did you meet a half-naked girl in the woods?

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i won't back down now

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN @ CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY OSO FURIOUSO

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[richard daemon glavan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee384/chevygirl_1375/Backgrounds/crazykira-resources_614.jpg)][atrb=style, padding: 10px;] i can finally breathe Suddenly alive, I can finally move, the world feels revived. This long of a struggle finally opened up my eyes, revolutions not easy with a civil war on the inside. No need to hide anything anymore, can’t return to who I was before. I can finally breathe One would think that, after over twelve hundred years of living, Richard would have learned to pay more attention to his surroundings. Granted he was distracted, trying to look for where he had thrown his tank top in the first place, and he was out in the forest; who else was going to be out here? A frown crossed over his mouth as his forehead creased a bit as he did so, eyes scanning the ground before he looked up, wondering if he had thrown it into the trees. There was a little bit of a problem with just throwing his clothes around haphazardly. There was a light rustling and he looked over, watching a woman step from the trees in a tank top that was much too big, and would you look at that, it was his! A light smirk crossed his face as he took in her appearance, all the way from his overly large tank top to her messy hair, down to that grin that was on her face. “Don’t get dressed on my account,” she said, which only served to make him grin just a little bit more than he was before. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he liked her; she was interesting, not to mention that he sure as hell didn’t mind looking at her. “Now why would I want to rid you of this gorgeous view?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in an overly cocky manner that would have made even the most of egotistical men shake their heads. He didn’t bother hiding what he was, what was the point now? Richard was more than sure she had already seen him flying around, or at least he wouldn’t be surprised if she had, and she wasn’t freaking out over the wings on his back. “But I think this is yours.” He very nearly told her that she could keep it if she really wanted to, because it looked oh so good on her, up until Richard realized that she was pulling it off and giving him an even nicer view than what he had before. Reaching out, Richard caught the tank top that she threw at him, and that was when he noticed something. She was…different. His head tilted a bit as she turned around and the angel’s curiosity hit a peak as she did so; he had met more supernatural creatures than he had mortals, but hybrids? Well he had only met a few of those and very rarely did the meeting end up any good. This time, however, Richard was going to end this one differently. Personally, Richard had nothing against hybrids, despite the fact that he worked for the Shaman’s Council, and as she turned and walked away he smiled again. Looking down at the tank top in his hands with minor disdain, the angel tossed the top so that it was resting on his shoulder and followed the woman. He probably shouldn’t have, after all, she was half naked, but at the same time he would have been an idiot not to at least try and follow. Leaning against a tree, Richard rested his head against it and tapped his knuckle against the bark, “knock, knock. I swear I’m not stalking you…much,” he added, giving a light wink. TAGGED ally/corrie WORDS 551 OUTFIT tank top and jeans NOTES ew >.< it sucks, I'm sorry