Flight School: Predator

Slow Run

He was so close to the heart of the night that he could hear its beat; erratic, pulsing through the forest like a vein, carried by the winds to the corners of the Box. Direction was no longer an issue to one that was changed—reborn and anew. Luka Sullivan had chosen to kill the human within and abandon its corpse, living only for a single purpose, and that was to keep his promise.

The awareness of that which lay hidden among the shadows was foreign. Yet, it levelled their abilities to a certain extent, his and Reux's, which Luka ultimately perceived as an advantage should there be a dual. A match, decisive.

After all he'd done, death no longer seemed to him an option; only a possibility should Fortune's wheel take an unfortunate turn. And should such misfortune occur, Luka would not have the chance to apologize for being unable to keep his promise.

He's closing in, the voice that surfaced in his mind was, to him, new. Papercrane's warning was calm and collected, quite apart from Victoria's personality. He knows what you're doing.

Shift?

The owl agreed, risking the nausea that she knew was bound to strike after every first flight. Human bodies were not the kind to stand foreign entities, and testing the boundaries of it—accepting the Link by doing so draw closer towards the heart that was not his own—invited a deadly consequence.

For once, his flight was soundless. Weaving over and under the canopies; branches that reached for feathers and skin alike; leaves that rustled as he passed, caressed by the Wind that was strong, still.

He felt it against his heart, closing in like a monsoon and seeking the most of what it could destroy. That which was fragile.

He's past the clearing, heading towards you. Northeast. Perspective was something he had trouble conceiving, identifying and establishing connections between what he saw and what they were—mere outlines and presence translated into physicality and image. The drop between the haze of canopies must have been the clearing.

Luka was beginning to think the match inevitable.

He wants me dead, was what he said to the owl.

She laughed.

I suppose that was what he wanted Slayne to be. But I hope you survive this, Sullivan...I'd very much like to see my nightingale again.

The wind was loud.

For a moment, it masked the presence of another—one fell swoop and the attack was here, initiated from behind in an instant that he could not conceive till the very last second, turning at an angle, uncanny, mid-flight, swerving to the left without a bearing and losing his control over direction as he crashed into the bark of a tree, a dull pain in his back throbbing beneath his skin. Inside his flesh.

The Link was severed in attempt to nullify the pain. Papercrane turned to her Winged and called for his attention, urgent and afraid. Get up. Hurry!

"Sullivan. I didn't know you liked to run," mused a laughter that was carried by the wind. "You look so tired."

Luka could see him now, smiling with eyes that belonged to no human being but that of one who assumed the role of a God, deciding upon which who should meet their end; where ideals were placed on a pedestal so high, understanding and knowledge could never share its place and attain a status worthy of his attention.