Karydiarn

Should i stay or should i go now

Two rows of strip lighting lined the ceiling of the plane, dimly exposing the area.
Immediatly i shifted, human hands clutched at my sides, huffing, i rubbed my hands over my face and head. Remembering my poor old simple backpack that i had dragged along i frantically searched for it. Thankfully it had not been forgotten in my sudden spree of stupidity, as i held it close. Feeling quite exposed i dug through the bag to pull out some clothes. I quickly got dresses and pulled on the work boots, lacing them up securely.
Okay. So. To sum it all up i am currently a stowaway on a plane going who knows where!?
Sometimes you really do just gotta sit back and marvel at your self.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Right, rational thinking only!! Im in a plane, in the sky, and a stowaway. I dont suspect itll be a terribly long flight but short or not, somebody could come down here any moment and id be found instantly. Odds are its either up in the air or when we're back on land.
PARACHUTE!! I carefully tour round the area, scanning the walls, crates and stack for a parachute or anthing remotely close to being useful.
Got em!
I grab two - you can never be too careful.
I also grab one of those life vest things which were positioned right next to the crates.
As quietly as possible i pry off the lid of a crate, only to be greated by an aray of artistically positioned firearms, lain in a bed of wood chippings. Each gun in pared with a set or two of amo. Taking a gulp, i reach for a hand gun, i grab the amo and what i can only consider to be a silencer. I head over to the next crate and inside ime greeted buy ropes, knives and other procariouse but utterly confusing items which i could not name if my life depended on it. I grabbed a swiss army knife and another deadly looking blade as well as a thick enough rope to hold my weight and some wireing type stuff?
I sealed back up the crates, and headed over to the stacks of stuff.

In most of the other stacks were containers for technology equipment.

I sat on the base of the plane, hugging my knees to my chest, i stared, glazed over, at a heart shaped dent in the steel metal floor. The coolness, that seemed to airate from the walls and floor of the plane, wrapped around my arms and legs like tendrils, leaving a path of risen goosebumos in their wake. A shudder runs up my spine, forcing me further into the dark cosiness of the unbecoming corner i have become so equainted with.

One things is for sure: this certainly wasnt the plan when i awoke this morning, nor when i brushed my teeth, or sat down for some mind boggling, eye bulging homework, or even when i thrashed around my bedroom stuffing belongings here, there, everywhere.
Funny, huh?
Well, guess when life gives you lemons....

**************

Karydiarn pov

I trudged effortlessly through the thick undergrowth of the forest, allowing for the soft sounds of nature to lull my troubled state into that of a more, or rather less, turbulent storm.
I can all but sit around and wait for things to set in place, and I know better than anyone that my patience holds a very thin thread; so automatically issues are worsened by the added factor of waiting around for certain people to get a move on, to do their job, and to do it right.

I allow for my mind to drift back to the almost poetic memory of the most fascinating and beautiful scent, never have I come across such a thing. I appear to be getting odd wafts of the scent at random times and in random places. Sometimes it's just in the air or carried by the wind, other times its carried on different people, or perhaps been brushed past objects.
I must really get to the bottom of this, but, unfortunately, for now there are much more pressing matters.

Many hours later I strolled over the thresh-hold of the front door belonging to the pack house, a few milled around, becoming stiffer and more tense in my presence.
I can't lie, I don't not enjoy the effect I have on people, although like most things in life it can become tiring, especially at times when the added social distance or pack hierarchy ensures a lack thereof in matters of friendships and bonds.
It has been long in the late night thoughts of mine, as I gaze upwards into the abyss of darkness - complied with a most finite infinity of stars, that my dominion of this pack is indeed what the very word 'dominion' suggests. A 'ruler', people or 'subjects' who blindly follow, not for the love of a saviour or heroic role model, but for the fear for loved ones, the fear of being cast out, fear for injury and death.
It was long ago established that the only being capable of scraping my 'dominion' and replacing it with a much more harmonious and intuitive existence would be none other than myself.
To be quite honest, I struggle to see myself being able to form bonds of trust and friendship with those who have feared me for too long.
I stuggle to see how even the bravest and goldenist of hearts could ever encourage a lil' switcheroo like that.