Boots&Cats&Boots&Cats

SPARKS WILL FLY, THEY IGNITE OUR BONES WHEN THEY STRIKE, WE LIGHT UP THE WORLD His name floated through his subconscious, lilting in tempo with Otem's voice as she called for him. In his dream however it was taken as the subtly malevolent croon of Kaos. Peace time warped into what was too often the reality of Iskra's day in and day out. A tooth and nail struggle for survival, happiness an illusive hope drifting out of reach on muted, alien skies. So Iskra ran, pell-mell into the abyss of the horizon, Kaos' mocking purr of his name hounding down on his heels. He couldn't escape. Iskra woke with a start as Otem neared and shouted out once more. His head shot bolt upright, and his wings flared and flopped at his sides, as if ready to take him up and away from the horrors of the world - if only his legs were just as ready. Iskra flopped a bit to the side, his exuberant wing toppling him a bit while his curled legs worked on unfolding themselves. He was still a bit groggy, still trying to sieve out the nightmare behind his eyes from the one in front of them. The more he woke though, the more his conscious mind fixed the things his subconscious had gotten wrong. "O-Otem?" he asked softly, a confused slur accompanying the question as well. He'd managed to right himself and was in the process of standing when he called out louder for her again. "OTEM?" His knife was for the time being gone from his mind. I S K R A

@Otem