My soft little falcon calls echo around the great building with such velocity that an idea pops in my head. Just pops, like a single mother with too much stress. I stop twirling inside the church and look around, searching. Am I alone? I freeze for a minute, completely freeze, right in the air. Listening. Watching. After a few seconds of utter silence, I unfreeze and continue fly softly, ready to begin my one man game. I call again, just to make sure it works. A deep, throaty echo reflects back – yes, it does. With much effort, I say, ”I…a…am…Polio!” In a great, booming voice. Sure enough, an echo returns, deep and monotonous like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Again, with much effort, I cry, ”Ch…champiiiion bo…dy builllder!” I even try to squeeze that accent he has, but it’s no use. Talking with a beak is too hard. Why? What makes it so hard? I click my blue-tinted beak a few times, the tiny sound echoing greatly. Click…click…click… It reminds of those horribly cliché horror movies; the part where the main character is about to be mauled to death. Focus quickly reassigned, I glaze my eyes with a coating of anger, and no sense for the word, “The law.” I don’t need the mental disorder part most killers have; I already have one of those. A groan slips from my beak as I pretend to become a zombie killer person from 28 Days Later.

Again, I groan, ”D…diiiie, z..zom…zom…zombiiiees!” And pretend to make shooting noises, using my right wing like a gun. The sounds of my playing echo through what’s left of the church, leaving my ears ringing. Feeling slightly tired, I flutter slowly down and land on one of the wooden benches, dancing around slightly. My talons click on the faded wood, but that doesn’t get me going. For once, I’m brain dead. Maybe it’ll do me some good. I look around, thingying my head from side to side. Weeds are coming up from the floor; I’m looking for a budding flower. Is that one?

Keeping the tiny bud in my sights, I flitter over to the corner of the church, where the bud sat, alone. Indeed it was a flower. I land softly by it, at only a foot tall I’m just a few inches tall than it is, but oh well. Very softly, with care, I touch my beak to it, and it’s petals slowly fold open, revealing a breathtaking yellow rose. Yellow? Who’s ever heard of a yellow rose? I look at it for a minute, a yellow rose among all these weeds. I would be the ugly weeds, and the pretty females would be the rose. The yellow rose. They yellow rose that I bloomed.

”Hell..he..hello, yello..ye..yellooow rrrose.” I say softly.

ooc; I just love her. <3
t.o.d; Mid-afternoon

I stared at the yellow rose for a minute, healthy and strong. I could be healthy and strong, too, just like Arnold. Puffing out my blue-tinted chest, (and looking like an overinflated balloon) I strut through the church, around the tiny yellow rose. I look quite silly doing this; this I know, but no one’s here to see me, and if anyone was, oh well. If they hated me, screw them. I hated them. I look at the yellow rose again, and then back at all the weeds that are creeping up through the floorboards like mold. Icky, mutant mold, like in horror movies, where it attacks people. Did you know that way back when there was still black and white movies they used melted chocolate as blood? I did, but why am I telling myself that?

Furrowing my brow slightly, I suddenly feel hunger tear at my stomach. It grows like a bear; almost like the bear in that one move with the Indian and the tiny bear in it, with all the pretty lights. Quickly, I pretend to be a bear, crossing my eyes dopily and walking bow-legged for a few strides. ”Grrrr…” I mumble. My stomach growls at me. I growl back, shaking my head back and forth. A little drool drips onto the leaf of a weed; I ignore it. Let it shrivel up and die. Let me shrivel up and die. Remember, I’m the weed. And all the pretty, peppy females are the rose.

I flutter my wings slightly, just shake them off, when a noise catches my eye. The same Click, click, click of my beak, but louder. Excitedly I tear into the air, wings fluttering madly. I scan the ground, but see nothing. Is my own mind playing tricks on me? Disappointed, I return next to my friend the yellow rose, guarding it. From what, I don’t know. Falcons who have empty stomachs that are hungry. I pretend to munch on one of the petals, putting into my beak and making chewing noises, until the worst happens. There’s a leathery taste on my tongue; where did that…?

”I…I…I…kill…kiiil..killed the fffflower! OH NO!” I cry, panic washing over me. I killed it! My only friend! OH NOZ! Not the yellow rose! With a passionate hatred I spit out the torn petal, looking at the dejected rose, a large chunk of petal missing. I killed it. The thought sinks in. Me, Polio. Killed a flower. Killed. And this time I wasn’t pretending. How could I? Suddenly, the weeds a foot or two from me woosh over to me, like a giant gust of wind blew through. I turn, looking into the face of a terrified canine. ”Ahh!” Was something scary? Unafraid, I dance over to him, ending my hysterics about the yellow rose.

” 'El…’el..ello, matey!” I say in a rough-and-tough pirate voice, trying to get the canine to join in my game. I limp towards it like I have a wooden leg, inches from it’s nose. ”Wi…will ye be j..join..joiinin’ me sh…shi..ship?”

ooc; She is. xP

”Sure thin’, captain!”

I felt my beak split into a wide grin. This canine, whose name was completely unknown to me, was in on my game; he was my second-hand-man or whatever you call it on my ship, the S.S Blue Falcon! But I had to be careful not to express my joy too much; remember, I’m a treasure stealin’, coldhearted pirate! Stripping the grin from my face, I scowl dopily at the canine and puff out my chest. ”I be c..cap’n Polio, w..wh..who be y..you?” I say in a deep, throaty voice. The giant boom of it echoes through the church, making my ears ring.

I flutter my wings, gaining quick altitude, and perch myself on the canine’s head, being careful not to poke it with my talons. I dance around up there; pretending to use my wing as a telescope, to, of course, scout for treasure. On the horizon I see nothin’, in the sky I see no pirate-planes. I crane my head to look down at the dog, looking at his happy expression. I peck him lightly between his eyes with my beak, just lightly, to…well, I don’t know. ”Arrr, do you s..see an…any…anythin’?” I ask, flushing anger into my tones slightly. After all, I’m a pirate captain, I’m supposed to be mean.

I return to my perch and flutter off again, but this time I fly higher, beating my little falcon wings rapidly. I release a soft, but throaty, deep call, one like a pirate falcon’s. My eyes scan the church floor, through the weeds. I was searching for another bud. Yes, flowers were our treasure; great, wondrous flowers. I fly closer to the ground, to get a better look. Still, I see nothing but the tentacles of the layers of weeds. Bummer. But there has to be a bud around here somewhere. How else could the yellow rose have gotten here? My eyes scan the ground again; however, this time, I feel a surge of hopelessness. Is there another flower?

And then I see it. A small bud; very young, just creeping out of the ground in a cluster of weeds. It’s underneath a bench; no wonder I didn’t see it! I released another falcon call, louder this time, and cry, ”T…t..reasure! I fffound it!” Swooping down from the air with a woosh, I land with ease on the weed-coated floor to where my ‘treasure’ lay. ”C’mon, ye l..lazy do..g, get yer h..hi..hiney ov’r here!” I cry, pretending to sound angered. Would by first mate be able to find me? I was lost in The Jungle of Weeds, among the dangerous Church Bench Mountains. Would he make the endless trek alive? Alone? Gah, how could I be so stupid, leaving him like that?! He was going to be mauled to pieces by the mutants weeds, that strange you to death.

But oh well. That’s pirate life for ye.

ooc; x3 One pirate game started. Sorry, he doesn't get a chance to answer any of her first questions, she flies away too quick. xD

”K…K..Kee…Keeh…Keehar?”

I try out the canine’s name on my tongue. Keehar…Keehar…I feel my face twist into an expression of deep thought and confusion. But wait! I’m a pirate; I’ve no time for hooligans’ names! Quickly I recover from my little slip and grow hardened and ‘angry’ again, and slap a scowl on my face. Wow. That was close – but I’m okay now, see? I shot a poisonous gaze at my First Mate and turn to inspect the tiny bud. Could it be…another yellow rose? Or a daisy? I turn to face…Keehar and put my wing around the tiny stalk of the bud. ”Ye see t..this? It be our t..t..trea..treasure.” I expect some disappointment but don’t really care much; he can marvel when I make it bloom.

But I don’t get to that part yet. I limp around my First Mate, inspecting everything about him. His fur is very mixed, with grays, silvers, blacks, browns…I wondered what is blood was. Wolf? I dunno. I can’t guess. I give a curt not, as if unhappy, and turn to inspect his facial features, my favorite part. It’s fun, especially when the is inspector is only a foot tall. Great fun! As I look at my First Mate, his facial features, I scowl. I see more Wolf in him. Was he a hybrid? In my Polio-mind, I’d think it’s awesome. ‘Cause it is. But in my Pirate-mind, I think it’s…convenient. He will be of good use to be. Stronger than the rest. Braver than the rest. When I raise my little falcon eyes, I’m surprised to see two eyes of a soft golden color staring at me. ”Y..you ha..have p..pretty e..ey..eyes.” It was out before I could stop it. And if I could blush, I would’ve. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t strip my gaze from those eyes, either – just couldn’t. And I couldn’t stop smiling, either…OMIGOSH…DO…I..? NO. But why? I feel myself repent. He’s a Mooner…look, he’s not transformed! A Mooner, Poli! You can’t…you just can’t. I shake my head, and try to regain my composure. Eventually, I tear my gaze from his, and turn quickly, feeling an emotion I haven’t felt in so long. Or maybe I never have – pain. Emotional pain. Is this what some have to deal with everyday? I shake my head, my back still to Keehar. How could I have a crush on him? Him?! Not that I didn’t want to, but…well…gah, it was so confusing.

The knot of emotions in my stomach throbs as I turn, avoiding eye contact. I walk normally, and a hurt expression is on my face – not sure what that looks like, either. I’m not the person to ask. I wanted to get it over with, so I quickly touch my beak to the bud and it blooms after a few seconds, into some kind of mutt flower with oval-shaped petals and warm colors. Reds, oranges, yellows…with care, I bend down and cut the stem with my beak, grabbing the flower. Without looking at Keehar, I drop the flower across his paws and mumble, ”Sorry.”

If this is pain, then just send me to hell now.

ooc; Poor kid. Yhea, she is pretty hyper. I feel bad now, but I want to see how Keehar will react.
t.o.d; Late afternoon - Night quickly approaching. The sun is setting.