Inked Wings
Third Event

Third Event - The Motivator

“In the smallest gesture of kindness - a warm smile, holding the door for the person behind you, shoveling the driveway of the elderly person from next door - you have committed an act of immeasurable profundity, because to each of us, our life is our universe.”

Martha’s prediction proves correct.

They arrive at the same time as Malik and Noel, by engine. They pass long canyons and take a right and two lefts through tight spots. A maneuver which leads them to an opening.

A shack awaits them, considerably large and worn down by time.

‘Is this where you live?’ Noel yells at Angel while he jumps down from the engine he came with. ‘Looks taken by storm and recently swallowed by a giant then gagged back out.’

Martha bursts out laughing. She and Noel make acquaintances.

When they do, Martha suddenly pulls him closer, bending over and whispering:

‘You should see Angel’s room. Even more depressing. There’s blood forgot to be cleaned.’

Noel gulps. ‘What?’ He puts on a smile. ‘Whose blood would that be?’ He mumbles.

Martha points to Angel with her hips, her rose-red arms intertwined toward the sky.

He passes them. ‘What ideas are you putting in his head?’

Malik chuckles. ‘Martha’s messing around. Noel recognizes that.’

‘I don’t, actually. I don’t know any of y’all.’

Martha shrugs, her voice pitched. ‘You can never know a person. Not really.’

‘It’s true when they say everybody for themselves.’ Angel adds, matter of fact.

‘Glad to see you guys are having fun when the rest of us are working our backs off.’ A new voice rings.

Standing at the shack door is a man with a strong, muscular build. He has marks under his chin. From behind his legs, another one creeps. A more delicate build, she watches from behind him. Both are hybrids.

He is a human-canine Kenan. ‘Listen -’

She’s an Aven-Canine. Twelve types of feathers sit in patterns, all over her body.

Martha chirps, greeting them with open arms. ‘Alexei, you unhappy, soulful bastard! How’ve you been?’

Birdie crawls out from behind him. She jumps into Martha’s big arms.

‘Missed you too, little bird.’

‘You better count me in.’ Malik joins them.

Angel regards them with a smile. ‘Don’t exclude me from the fun.’ He opens his arms.

Birdie hops from Martha, to him. They embrace tightly. Once they break the hug, Birdie asks, looking at Noel:

‘Is this the little one we have heard about?’

‘Yes, it’s him.’

‘Hello, what’s your name?’ Birdie approaches Noel. ‘I am Birdie. Wanna be friends?’

‘Uhm, what is- What are they saying?’ Noel seeks confirmation from Angel.

‘I will tell you, if you ask me to help you.’

‘I just did. Just tell me what they’re saying.’

‘I take it you don’t understand her.’

‘Well duh, I don’t know sign language.’

‘Stop being mean, Angel.’ Malik intervenes. ‘Birdie is hard of hearing, Noel. It’s fine if you precisely write her what you want to say. Just ask her to please write back.’

‘All you need is to accentuate your words for her. She can make it out.’ Angel faces her.

Alexi clears his throat. ‘This reunion is nice and all, but we have work. Especially since our dearest, right here...’ He points to Angel. ‘Has gotten us into big trouble. Now we have much more work to do and we have to prepare the home ship for a big road trip.’

Creases appear on his forehead.

‘Your sarcasm is showing, Xi.’ Martha remarks.

Birdie gallops back to Alexi’s legs, then hugs him. His fingers stroke her hair, then his mouth slips into a smile.

‘No, I’m not mad. This is just inconvenient.’

Birdie doesn’t agree.

‘No. Well…It is.’ Alexei insists.

Birdie shakes her head, he continues:

‘Doc’s waiting for the kid in his Holabird Tori. The Laboratory. He needs to check him for any health risks.’

‘I’ve been watching him for a while and I can say he’s fine,’ Angel reassures.

Now, to fill in on his own statement, Alexei goes on: ‘I’m not talking about past injuries, but I am talking about possible injuries.’

‘Since you’re gonna be stuck with this kid and him stuck with us, he needs to be under your watch 28/4. That means we have to bring him about anywhere you go. ’

Angel’s eye twitches, his limbs going numb. ‘That’s nonsense.’

‘It’s not, considering he is being harmless. It’s old news. He is officially on MEA’s Hunt List. He cannot protect himself from them. Do you think Doc’ alone can? Not. Think ahead.′ Alexei lectures him.

Noel butts in: ‘All right, all right. Do you have a bathroom and a shower?’

Alexei nods. He tells Birdie to lead the boy through the new environment. Birdie delightfully nods and signs for Noel to follow her. Noel does so. Martha follows them.

Malik sticks around, in case there will be any conflict spurring from the two left behind.

Alexei crosses his hands, waiting for Angel to say something.

In return, Angel fixes his brows.

‘Don’t make the dumb face. I’m not gonna enjoy it now. I’m livid with you.’

Angel sighs. ‘Is there anything you have to say to me or can I go give Dad a hug?’

‘After the boy takes a shower, we will introduce him to the Doctor and will assign him to work alongside Doc’. It will be a good influence on him and a good distraction from everything. Also, Doc’ will keep the boy occupied which equals keeping him off our hands. Win - win.′

‘Alright then,’ Angel grumbles.

‘Alright, then.’ Alexi goes inside.

Malik and Angel catch up from behind, entering the shack. The inside is pristine.

The wood is healthy and the rooms have a pleasant scent. The little furniture owned is an “old-school” style, even Historic ‘(by their present standards)’.

The layout of the shack is simple at first, but the halls intertwine and shift as they go on.

The place is more spacious than it appears.

Birdie sends Noel to the main floor bathroom with a towel and liquid soap. Noel is curious as to why he would need these outdated items. Once he is inside the bathroom, it clicks. They do not have the cheap modern pod shaped and constructed showers. They have a tub.

“At least the place is clean,” he cannot help but think. He proceeds to clean up.

Meanwhile, Angel enters his father’s laboratory; the “Holabird Tori” room.

The Doctor is managing substance mixing by using an intricate tube system and a gravitational “turnaround.” A “turnaround” makes things float in circles, to be more specific. The name comes from the Doctor himself.

Angel is patient, tapping his foot slowly to pass the time it takes for the Doctor to notice him.

‘Ah!’ He lets his utensils on the table.

They crash into a tight hug. Angel relaxes into The Doctor’s arms for a moment before his wound stings again. Sting caused by his sudden stretch into a tighter hold.

‘Gah.’ Angel let go to check on it.

‘How many were they?’ The Doctor analyzes it.

‘Not a lot. Didn’t count…Maybe seven.’

‘Where was Noel?’

‘He escaped the collision but still saw the corpses.’ Angel sits down on a random chair.

‘Truly heartbreaking.’ Teardrops gather at the edges of the Doctor’s eyes.

Angel allows him to spill the small vile hovering over the wound.

‘I have an idea…you may not like it.’ The Doctor presses a wipe gently onto the wound. He backs away. ‘I think he should share rooms with you, Lungelo.’

/]/]/]/]/]/]/]

Noel replaces himself clean enough. The warm bath invigorates him. He enters the hall. He is wearing the clothes he is supposed to place on the wash, leaving the change Birdie has offered him inside the bathroom. As always, he carries his backpack with him.

‘Was it okay?’ Malik is standing at the end of the hall.

Noel shrugs. ‘Forgot we had that.’ His chin points to the ball resting on Malik’s hand.

‘Wanna give it another try? You have room in the yard. It’s down the hall, front room and door.’ Malik guides.

Noel visualizes his instructions. ‘Sure…’

Malik tosses him the ball, which slips through Noel’s hands and rolls down the hall.

Noel huffs, waving. ‘I’m off.’

‘Stay close to the house so don’t get lost!’ Malik warns, hands cupped around his mouth.

Noel clicks his tongue then snorts, catching up with it. He picks it up.

Rays of light spill on the luscious, wooden floor. They come from the drapes of the (manual) sliding doors that face him. The light falls on his features, marking his rectangular head. A lining fall on his long, straight nose, followed by a wave coloring his bangs, bangs which meet his rounded eyebrows. Once he grimaces at the brightness, a dimple forms on his ochre, yellow-brown skin with red undertones. A shine twinkles in the golden climber piercing hanging from his right ear, its form that of a feline.

The doors are opened by him.

The yard reveals its extensive size. A circle is marked from the doors to the surrounding forest. This area marks the ledge between two contrasting landscapes.

Clouds merge and bring shade.

‘Ho - dung.’ Noel nearly chokes. ‘Yard, my ass. This is a botanic estate!’

Inside the circle, there sit misplaced rocks, built high enough to be considered cliffs.

Noel slams the ball against the earth. Once redirected in the air, Noel kicks it.

It lands ways off, near the household stairwell which leads to the roof.

‘The view must be nice from up there,’ Noel thinks aloud.

‘It is.’ Angel confirms.

Noel yelps, throwing his hands in the air. Angel is watching him recollect himself.

‘Stars, you’re a creepy oatmeal!’ Noel exclaims.

‘You have an interesting vocabulary, kid.’ Angel’s toe slides under the football.

‘My word-ology is above you,’ Noel bites, his body relaxed. He is waiting for Angel to pass him the ball.

He does some tricks which tick Noel off. The football jumps on Angel’s knee, onto his chest and lastly, he bumps it with his head, passing it to Noel whose reaction time does well. He hops and stops it with both hands.

His cheek stuffs itself with air. ‘I got it...’

Angel smiles, watching the boy rush after the ball to fix it in place.

‘Here.’ Noel kicks it Angel’s way. ‘Pass again.’

Said and done. The two share, one, two, four other passes. Each time, they try to make the ball harder to catch on the other.

It becomes a private, spontaneous game between rivals, each one having their irritation increased.

Noel slips and falls on his face and lands on his knees and elbows. ‘Alright!’ He rubs the scratches. ‘You just messed up my good clothes...’ Noel then proceeds to wipe off the dirt and dust on him, after fixing the straps of his backpack. ‘Make it right.’

A crooked smile appears on Angel’s figure. ‘Seriously?’

‘You gotta answer me some questions.’ Noel demands.

‘We’re not doing that, kid.’

‘Five questions, starting now!’

Angel rolls his eyes, his hands hugging his torso. His wings stiffen.

‘One. The range of your age, what is it?’

‘Adult.’

Noel pouts. ‘Pft, be a little specific. Or you don’t know numbers?’

‘Twenty to thirty-five.’ Angel shrugs.

‘Was that so hard, hardhead?’

‘Just continue so it’s over with faster.’

‘Two,’ Noel nudges the ball, closer and closer to Angel’s proximity. ‘Your name.’

‘No.’

‘Is your name actually Angel, yes or no?’

Angel shakes his head.

‘Are your wings heavy?’ Noel asks, the ball rolling.

Angel stops it with his foot. ‘You have useless questions.’

‘No question is useless. They are questions.’

‘What are you guys doin’?′ Cosmin interrupts.

Loek swoops in and steals Angel’s ball. ‘We playing Malai?’

‘Oo. Maybe a rematch?’

Every spot Loek reaches inside the circle causes Noel to back away. Noel goes to sit near the shack entrance when Angel and Cosmin follow Loek’s lead.

Noel looks for a spot he can claim. Before he can, on the other hand, Loek launches the football into the air. All three Aves dash into the sky. Angel touches it first but Cosmin manages to squeeze his leg between Angel’s hands. The ball goes higher up.

Loek takes a hold of it. Near to a satiric show where the characters literally step on each other to reach their goal or catch their prize.

Noel needs but one glance to go: ‘Nope.’ and he turns around to enter the shack.

He flinches, behind him Loek having just slammed Cosmin on the ground while kicking at Angel, so he keeps a distance.

‘Bunch of -’ Noel notices Angel going slower.

Within that time frame, Noel stops Angel to inquire one more piece of information.

‘Hey, lunatics! Where is - that girl from before?!’

‘Who do you mean?’

‘The one who showed me around!’

Cosmin pushes Loek off. Feathers fly around them. ‘Birdie is in the living! Right ahead.’

Loek jumps on him, sending them both rolling.

Noel’s eyelids fall to half-open eyes. ‘Asked for nothing. I know to walk in a straight line.’

The moment he replaces her, Birdie entertains him with a music box. They listen until later, into nighttime. Angel wins the game, with scrapes all over. The other two come out of it worse.

Noel spectates Birdie’s dancing until The Doctor enters the living room. ‘Ah, here you are.’ He is holding a small plate with caramelized apples.

Birdie snatches one with eagerness. Noel hesitates.

‘And you are -?’

‘They call me The Doctor. I’ve known the people you’ve met within these walls since they were about your size.’ The Doctor rests the plate on a small table. ‘It’s nice to finally meet.’

‘Okay…’

The Doctor gains a soft smile. ‘From tomorrow on, you will spend time with me in the ship’s laboratory. I thought it’d go smoothly if we met beforehand.’

‘Do you know why I’m here?’ Noel bites one of the apples.

‘We won’t talk about that unless you want to.’

‘No, I don’t want to.’

‘This might come as a stretch, but I’ve actually met Ade before he made it as a Tackler. We enrolled into the same Academy, back on Torturo 45.’

Noel gulps. ‘You’re - the guy with the mouth stitches?’

‘He told you about my habit? He probably found me odd, stitching androids.’

Noel shakes his head. ‘No…I’ve heard about you. Always praises.’

The Doctor chats with Noel a little longer, while stroking Birdie’s hair. They finish the plate.

‘You’re as lovely as I imagined.’ The Doctor compliments Noel.

‘I’ve kept my mouth shut most of the time, you mean -’ Noel blinks.

‘No. Your demeanor, your voice, your looks. You’re kind to fresh eyes.’

‘Barely understand, but thanks.’

The Doctor’s hand brushes Birdie’s temple. ‘Your father always loved to be reliable. He taught me that...’ His smiling gaze falls on Noel. ‘The smallest act can go a long way.’

Noel opens his mouth. Nothing true has time to come out. ‘Don’t care.’

Eventually, Angel replaces Noel and tells The Doctor to go to sleep. He signs Noel to follow him.

‘Is this -?’ Noel’s head raises towards Angel.

They sit in front of a door.

Angel presses his hand against the painted spot on the wall. The lock activates.

The door unlocks. Angel opens it, the first to step in. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’

Noel analyzes the small, bare walled room. Monochrome and dim, it is almost empty.

There is an elevated metal, two-person swing. Noel thinks it looks like a bird’s swing, from inside old-timer birdcages. ‘You sleep there?’

Angel confirms. ‘I can sleep standing, don’t overthink it.’ He pulls out some covers from a wall’s compartment. He arranges them on the ground, making a bed for Noel.

Noel imitates the sound of a gauge. ‘Why does that spot look like old blood?’

There is a spot on the wall behind Angel’s sleeping place.

‘Because it is.’ Angel confirms with ease.

‘Whose is it?’

‘Relax. It’s old as time, almost.’

‘Answer the question, bastard.’

Angel points to himself, then walks up to his sleeping place.

‘Oh...’ Noel hangs around a bit too long.

‘Close the door. It’s time to sleep.’ Crouched onto the platform, Angel locks his hands.

Noel listens. ‘Are we really sharing the room? What gives?’

‘Get used to it, it’s not going to change anytime soon.’

Noel walks with wobbly steps and throws himself onto the pile of blankets.

‘Is this my bed from now on?’

Angel’s eyes remain closed. ‘No.’

Noel shifts from side to side, hugging his backpack. He settles on the margin where he does not see Angel. He closes his eyes, but his mind is still very much active.

He tenses.

The silence creates space for a sharp, yet quiet noise to ring inside the room.

Noel grips onto his bangs. He replaces it hard to sleep or rest his eyes.

He shifts one last time, only to meet Angel’s owl-like stare.

‘You’re so creepy,’ Eyebrows drawn close together, he whispers.

Angel does not blink.

‘He even sleeps with his eyes open, this freak,’ Noel grumbles, fixating onto Angel.

His roommate sleeps like a bird and breathes slow. His wings hang around him, being hit by moonlight. Moonlight which slips through the cracks of the small window from behind him.

Noel relaxes, taking in the “painting” of Angel’s wings. His eyes do not sting as much. Even so, he refuses to sleep, his brain heavy and malicious.

He pulls one of the thicker blankets over his head, hiding under the covers. His backpack unzipped; he grabs his tablet. He turns it on, for the first time in hours.

The home screen is black and nearly empty. There resides one app, in the high left corner.

The app Noel’s father made for him before his passing.

Angel’s breathing irks Noel. His skin seems hot.

Noel opens the app and proceeds to start a new game, earbuds plugged in.