Cursed Blood

I skyrocketed off the side of the mountain, arms at my sides as the rest of my Darkblood form made itself known. Wind whistled past my ears as my horns grew from my temples. The path curling around the mountain rushed up and my wings flared, catching me before I splattered on the road. I then shot upward, gaining altitude as I flapped my wings and hovered above the Valley, watching the busy streets as I began to soar across the sky. Trees came into view and I picked up speed, flipping from side to side as I began to weave through the trees. Birds scattered as I, a much larger flying being, rocketed through the forest toward the camp. They alerted the Darkbloods to my presence, several of them turning to watch as I shot into the sky before gently floating down in the center of the sky, wings brushing the ground as I steadied myself. I recognized Zen, the tattoo artist, as I shook myself off. He was the first to come greet me, the others still shocked from how quickly I'd gotten to the heart of their base.

"Cloud! Nice to see you!"

I grinned, patting his shoulder in greeting. "Hi, Zen. Good to see you too, but I have to find Rebecca," I told him, looking around for the blonde werewolf. Other Darkbloods breezed by, most of them saying kind hellos and playful greetings as they went. The deaf twins from before were gently pulling my sleeves and I smiled at them, shrugging apologetically to Zen. The artist waited for the girls to skip along before gently steering me in the direction of a wooden building I hadn't been in before. Inside, racks upon racks of clothing were placed around the store. A desk and chair were set up near the door in the front, and far in the back were secluded areas hidden by floral curtains.

Whoever supplied the clothes had amazing style -- each piece stood out for different reasons and looked like it would compliment many different people. Zen caught me staring and grinned, brushing past me to the desk. His hand hit the bell sitting there with an aggressive amount of force, knocking it to the ground. Before I could inquire about why he hated the bell so much, a screeching voice came from the back of the store.

"I'm going to kill whoever just hit that damn bell!" A tiny woman snapped, causing Zen to laugh. My eyes widened as I spotted a flash of bright orange hair before a pair of wings carried the small woman into the air. Unlike mine, her wings were small compared to her body, and she couldn't stay airborn for long. She was mostly able to leap and float, her wings like sheets of spiderwebs that looked rather strange. It was almost in the pattern of a butterfly wing, but looked like a cheap costume piece for a scare attraction.

"Zen!" She shrieked, leaping at him. Her fingernails dripped with what looked like poison, and he did his best to dodge them as she pinned him to the ground. The tattoo artist winked at her before a faceless copy of himself appeared behind her and wrestled her off, immune to her poison.

The real Zen bounced to his feet, a bright smile on his face. "Nice to see you too, Izzy," he snickered, the clone disappearing. Izzy, the angered, tiny woman, glared at Zen and crossed her arms. Her hair was the colour of orange ice cream, bright and looking as if it was dyed, and her eyes were a piercing, cat-like yellow. Bright orange freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, looking like stickers. On closer inspection, I realized they were real, and that the girl was almost like a pixie.

"What do you want, Zen?" Izzy snapped, obliviously to my being here, even with my wings and tail and everything else.

I raised my eyebrows, almost chewing on my lip before feeling the pressure from my fangs. "You really hate him, don't you?"

The girl's eyes snapped over to me, widening at the large wings folded at my sides. "Holy guacamole, who the hell are you? And why are you hanging out with him?"

Scoffing, I turned away from them and began looking through the racks of clothing. Zen could deal with the girl with a temper, and I would wait for him to lead me to Rebecca if I had to. The pixie and the astral clone maker began bickering as I passed through the clothes, feeling soft and rough fabrics brush up against my arms. My tail flicked back and forth, hitting several different things as I went. I was growing bored and irritated when I finally zeroed in on something Zen was saying.

"...that it's a fitting, but Cloud needs to see her."

Rebecca's here, I thought, the fact clicking in my mind. My senses extended until I could feel the familiar sense of emotions, and a small trace of wonder and awe was coming from the back of the room, where the changerooms were. The idea of Rebecca being amazed by clothing made me smile as I walked toward the back, hazardous wings and tail, along with the other pieces of my form, melting away.

"Becca..?"

There was a small gasp, and the werewolf's blonde head poked out from behind one of the curtains.

"Cloud, can you help me? I need you to zip something up," she said hurriedly, forgetting any introductions. An amused smile popped onto my face as I jogged toward her, slipping past the curtain. However, the instant I made it inside, she slapped a hand over my eyes.

"I don't want to ruin the reveal, so just zip it up and get out," Rebecca laughed, guiding my hands to the zipper. I rolled my eyes under her hand, clumsily pulling the zipper up to the top and fastening the clip. I then had no chance to say anything before she shoved me out of the changeroom, causing me to trip. My instincts kicked in and I began to save myself, but someone else did it faster, and I found myself staring up at an upside-down view of Zen's clone. It pushed me upright, holding up it's hand in a thumbs-up before disappearing, leaving in its place a grinning Zen and Izzy next to the last rack in line. The two of them walked over to the cushioned bench for people waiting, Izzy pulling me down with them. The once-angered pixie was now bubbly, an irresistibly adorable grin on her face.

"Sorry about that whole bitchiness, I didn't realize you were coming to see Rebecca. She's just doing her last fitting, then she'll be right out," Izzy chirped, jumping into a rant about her store. That's right; her store. All her own, the best one in the region according to her.

As the rant continued on, I glanced at Zen for help and he snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back into the back of the bench.

This would take a while.