A/N: Between real life, editing Flight of the Albatross and various other projects I've been working on; this little gem has been waiting in the wings to get off the ground for a while now. Please enjoy!

Cobalt in Blue

By: Abalisk

Chapter 1: Leap of Faith

Skies split apart with a blinding flash, lightning forking across the frothing heavens in a serpentine dance—vanishing at a blink with a roar of thunder. Gale winds lashed in vengeance, swelling massive waves that tossed them about like a cork in a maelstrom, the vast sea an endless scape of turmoil and chaos.

Chest heaving, Juniper clung to the mast like it was a lifeline, her back pressed so hard against the wood she may as well have melded to it. Hopelessness sank like a stone in her stomach, her eyes wide as she gazed at the storm, her throat tight in fear.

"—me… at me! Hey!" Blue eyes crossed her vision and Juniper was forced to focus on those fiery pools. Calloused hands cradled her face in a firm yet gentle hold, reaffirming that all her attention remained on him and him alone. "Look at me. It'll be okay, just trust me."

The mast lurched violently, making him grunt and Juniper shout as the whole ship canted dangerously to the side, dangling them out over the water. Juniper gasped, fingers pulling trenches in the trunk beneath her, not daring for even a moment to shift her weight, lest she slip and fall into the swirling depths below.

"Do I have a choice?!" she cried, near breathless in the din.

Those brilliant eyes met her own again, fearless and determined, one of his arms braced above her head. "There's always a choice," he said, the words nearly damning in their finality. His brows narrowed further, eyes briefly darting to the waves before snapping back to her own. "We have to jump."

She opened her mouth, gobsmacked. "You're mad—"

"Phoenix!" A familiar cry cut through the air, making Juniper's heart go still. Her companion's expression darkened, turning to glance over his shoulder, his body tensing. "I'll get you for this, Phoenix!" Arsenne continued, his voice ragged and drawing closer, "You've ruined me! Both of you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you and that little harlot!"

Juniper gripped the lapels of his jacket, bringing his attention back to her, heart beating a heavy staccato in her ears. Something in her expression must have spoken to him, because his hardened face softened minutely.

"Don't worry," he murmured, drawing her into his embrace, entwining about her torso. Juniper looped her arms around his neck, the feeling of dread palpable even at his crooning words. "Just think of it like floating," he said, voice hypnotic against her ear, breath buzzing on her skin. "Close your eyes and I'll take care of the rest."

"Floating… r-right," she breathed, closing her eyes and blocking out that awful captain's voice, her face resting against the man's collarbone; placing her trust in his confidence.

"Everything will be okay," he murmured, cradling her head, fingers entwining in her hair, "Just trust me one more time."

"Don't—don't you dare!" Arsenne cried, frantic. He sounded afraid. "Don't leave me here!"

"You made your choice." She heard him say coldly, his grip on her tightened.

Her world tilted, a final gasp on a knife's edge.

And they fell.

xXx

And how, one might wonder, did it come to this?

First, let me tell you a tale, of a distant land far, far away—

And the woman with raven hair trying to save one small piece of it...

xXx

Sunlight, harsh and bright, lanced through the overwhelming smog, searing in its intensity despite the present shadows of morning. Heat was already beginning its steady climb, the grasses of once manicured lawns having long wilted under the assault, dyeing the land in fields of brown.

Fingers threading through the curly tangle of her hair, Juniper Wilde sighed, slapping her hand back on the steering wheel, giving the clogged road before her an arching look. It wasn't even midday and already the traffic was atrocious. She'd been sitting in the same spot, inching along at a snail's crawl for fifteen minutes, and her exit was literally right in front of her. A small, rebellious part that she normally quelled was tempted to take the shoulder just to get it over with.

But she could see that state patrolman in her rear-view mirror. There was no way in hell he'd let that pass.

So she sat. The persistent buzz of her air conditioning driving her mad.

Her radio crackled to life at the turn of a dial, having finally become fed up with the silence, the not-so-dulcet tones of the weather report filling the cab in an exuberant squawk. "—sunny skies for the remainder of the week—it's gonna be hot hot hot! With temperatures rising to the triple digits and—"

"You've got to be joking." Juniper groaned, the meteorologist continuing his awfully enthusiastic spiel in the background, fingers flexing over the steering wheel as she budged up another few inches in the line. "Triple digits—might as well kill me at this rate," she grumbled, listening with half an ear as the weatherman passed off the rest of the report to the more serious news anchor, her voice grave.

"Fire warnings have been issued in the surrounding five counties in response to weather projections, with the Forest Bureau issuing bans for the entire State to prevent further incidents. The Fire Chief General urges everyone to remain indoors as the Scholl's Ridge fire rages in the north-east and to limit any necessary outdoor exposure—"

She worried her bottom lip at that, eyeing the blood red of the morning sky and the conspicuous haze that shrouded every corner, obscuring the vehicles further down the highway. Evacuations had already been issued for several of the nearest towns in response to the growing forest fire, the sound of helicopters a near constant as fire crews and National Guard worked endless hours to quell the flames. People were calling it the worst fire in history and Juniper was inclined to agree.

It was almost unheard of for entire cities to evacuate, but now it seemed the times were changing. Homes, small towns, and thousands of acres had already been consumed in the blaze. Would her city be next?

It was looking more and more likely by the day.

Lips pressing thinly into a line, Juniper let out a blustering sigh of relief as the line finally moved close enough for the car in front of her to take the exit, allowing her to dip out of the crush as well. The streets on this side of town were eerily barren, the local residents taking heed of the warnings and shuttering themselves indoors or having long fled, joining the masses on the highway. Those that were outside wore masks to filter out the particulates, but even their time of exposure remained low, their strides swift and purposeful.

Juniper drove by it all, her hands guiding the wheel through the streets with a troubled pinch of her brow, the first destination of her day soon coming into sight.

Ted Friars was a local market that had been around for as long as the street it was situated on had been constructed. It'd survived despite the steady march of time, family feuds, and contesting corporations. Even the town surrounding it had been turned into a suburb for the nearest developing city, its township being subsumed by the larger entity like an amoeba.

Yet, the little market endured. And it was here that Juniper rolled in and parked, noting the visible absence of activity in its normally bustling parking lot.

She slipped on her respirator mask before opening the car door, conscious of the warnings issued about breathing the air, and hopped out, instantly feeling smothered by the heat. Her dress swished about her legs as she quickly made her way to the entrance, the material billowing lazily in the wind. The automatic doors had been deactivated to prevent most of the toxic air from penetrating the interior, and Juniper was all too happy to shove the door closed behind her, making sure it sealed shut with a hydraulic hiss.

Removing her mask and smelling the fresh scent of produce was almost heavenly, and Juniper sucked in great lungfuls of it, having smelled nothing but smoke for weeks.

It brought her home.

"Juney! Good mornin' to ya!" a raucous voice called across the store, eliciting a fond smile on her lips.

"Miss Carly," Juniper greeted, pocketing her mask and turning to stride with purpose to the deli counter, bypassing the delicious smells of fruit and vegetable produce, her boot heels clicking on the linoleum, "How are you this fine morning?"

"Fine my ass," Carly began a little archly, already gathering the fixings for Juniper's lunch, knowing the routine well enough, as she always came for the Monthly Special, "But doing alright, considering the circumstances. My Jenni can't go to school for the foreseeable future, since that damned fire's fartin' out smoke left and right. They closed it down until the air clears—whenever the hell that'll be."

"You don't think we'll have to evacuate, do you?" Juniper asked with a frown, good mood at seeing the friendly woman vanishing just as quickly as it came, wringing her hands nervously. Thoughts twisted in abject horror at the idea that her books—her home—were in imminent danger. "The highway is in complete disarray and so many have left already. Is it not contained?"

Carly waved her knife hand dismissively, the blade glinting wickedly with the leavings of mayonnaise. "Girl, I couldn't tell you anything you don't know already. The only thing between us and that damned inferno is a stiff breeze. We're literally playin' with fire here. I swore I heard some explosions last night, so the demo crew has got to be doing somethin' to stop the spread, but if it jumps the line…" She gave a helpless shake of her head, her expression falling into something close to grief, shoulders shrugging. "I already sent Ma off to visit relatives in Michigan. She wasn't doin' well with the smoke."

Juniper reached across the counter, giving the older woman's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She didn't dare utter any platitudes, knowing that it was entirely within the realm of possibility that they'd be lies. No one knew what tomorrow would bring, but the terror of its worst outcome hovered like a guillotine above them all, breaths collectively held.

So it was with a heavy heart that Juniper and Carly parted ways, the aggrieved shop owner insisting on filling a cooler full of supplies for free, "Just in case," throwing in a bag of ice for good measure. Carly made her swear to visit the next day, "Because the world's going tits up and I'd rather have the hope of seeing a friendly face."

It was impossible to say no to that.

Her drive to the library was relatively uneventful and bleak, only having to pull over a couple of times as an ambulance or military vehicle barrelled down the road, sirens blaring. A sadly common sight in more recent days. Numerous house windows stared like empty eye sockets, the interiors dark and cars missing from driveways. The park was also eerily devoid of activity, the energized bustle of dogs, their owners, and stray children silent, with the only presence that lingered being the white smoke that hovered threateningly over the grounds.

Juniper wasted no time in getting inside. No one was waiting for her at the entrance, which made her heart give a painful little twinge. She hoped Mister Thomas was alright, he always was there to greet her with his shopping cart and bag of cans—she fervently hoped he'd hitched a ride with the shelter convoy along with everyone else, especially with his lungs.

The foyer echoed with the closing click of the door, the cavernous archways reverberating the sound like a hollow theatre. Juniper numbly flipped on the lights, her eyes taking in what was left of the neat and orderly rows.

She'd been the only one to remain behind, carefully recording each and every book in solitude as she sequestered them in the confines of the basement, in hopes that if the worst were to happen, that at least the collection would be safe under several tons of concrete. The building itself used to belong to an old church, but when the congregation dissolved into obscurity, the City was all too happy to allow the local library to bloom within its elegant walls, making the place feel like it was cut right out of a fairytale.

But now, it was almost packed up. Great sheets, to dissuade dust from landing, had been draped over most of the surfaces, standing by like ghostly sentinels across the sanctuary, the upper levels a maze of white and fluttering fabric. The building was old. There were no illusions that it would remain if the fire did reach here, and all her work—her home away from that dingy apartment in the suburbs—would be gone.

She gazed up at the rose window with watery eyes, stained glass casting a rainbow mosaic of color and angels at her feet, dust particles dancing among the light shafts.

Juniper had never really been religious...

But still she prayed.

xXx

And yet their ears are as dull as their titles lofty,

The winds of vanity are deafening at the top of the world.

xXx

It wasn't until the last rays of the setting sun dyed the sky an ominous burgundy, that Juniper placed the final tome among its brethren, the deep shadows of the basement giving her a sense of ease at their safety.

She tried very hard not to think of it as a crypt. Despite the fact that is indeed what it was.

Stacks upon stacks of books rested upon raised pallets, keeping their precious cargo off the floor in case of flooding. She'd meticulously wrapped every one of them in plastic, tying off the top to make a proper seal. She was hot and sweating, but still felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment at her work.

Juniper also felt a bit sick, but that was probably the grief, and the hunger.

She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

Giving one last inspection just because, Juniper made a circle around her handiwork. Checking corners and seams. Her fingers brushing over plastic. It wasn't until after she made yet another circuit (just in case) that she finally ascended to the ground floor, leaving the looming darkness behind. She closed the door with an audible clank, the lock sliding into place with an air of finality, the handle cool under her hand.

Yet, she lingered, like a spectre to a loved one, the metal beneath her hand warming to her touch. Everything felt so surreal, like a nightmare she had no escape from. Logically, she knew she was simply undergoing a stage of grief, denying the reality for what it was, but her mind clung to it none-the-less, tormenting itself in passive assurances that everything will be fine.

It wasn't. But she daydreamed anyway.

With pained reluctance she withdrew, the departure slow and aching as she stepped away. Her sight turned to liquid, and she blinked to allow the fat tears to fall, trailing lines down her cheeks.

She sniffed.

And walked away, the click of her bootheels cacophonous in the silence, only the echoes of ghosts lingering to hear her. She swept past the rows of shrouded shelves, her lips tightening with every step as she made her way to the checkout counter, the hollow clawing in her chest growing worse with every passing row.

She clambered into her station, like she'd always done for the past ten years, the comfort of her office chair finally breaking the dam. A muffled sob shattered her defenses, the walls she'd painstakingly crafted since this disaster began crumbling into dust, the emptiness of the halls crying out to her. She took off her glasses with shaking fingers, wiping at her eyes and feeling as her heart tore itself to pieces.

It felt like the end of something wonderful and Juniper didn't even want to think about what the rebirth would be. She could almost see it in her mind, the ashes and the desolation. She'd seen it plenty of times on news sources across the globe and throughout humanity's bloody history. It was a sight she never imagined in her wildest dreams that would reach her.

And yet they sat dangling on the edge of the eleventh hour, the flames at their door.

Juniper took a shuddering breath.

Her stomach pinched painfully, reminding her that her attention was needed elsewhere. She composed herself as best as she could with a few deep breaths, drying her eyes and slipping her glasses back on, the lump in her throat nearly suffocating.

She stood to attend to her needs, making her way to the icebox Miss Carley had so lovingly packed for her. She'd dragged it inside with the intention of using some of it for lunch, but it had slipped her mind when she became too engrossed in her work.

It was an old habit she was having difficulty breaking.

Juniper picked out a modest meal from the selection, though her lack of preparatory tools prevented her from going too extravagant. Pita bread and hummus were as simple as one could get, along with a package of local blackberries to counter the bland flavor of the beans and bread.

She figured this would be easy enough on her roiling stomach, at least to start.

The silence, as she ate her meal, felt hollow and deafening.

Libraries, while they were supposed to be quiet, still held a subtle buzz of activity about them. Whether it was a study group discussing literature or simply the sound of a page turning, there was always some noise—even if it was muted. It was why the library had always felt like a world apart from the outside, it's cloister nothing at all like the rampant bustling of the outer world.

But this silence—This stillness was encompassing. Absolute. A complete absence of sound.

It was disquieting.

Juniper swallowed, the tart flavor of a berry slowly dissolving on her tongue, her hands already robotically going through the motions of tearing her next slice of pita bread, staring blankly at the empty halls.

Rinse. Repeat.

Back and forth.

Numb.

Silence.

Repeat.

Crunch—

Juniper made a face, pulling what remained of the blackberry she'd bitten into away from her mouth. Her appetite, or what little had been present, now long lost.

Berries weren't supposed to crunch.

A strange swirling pattern met her gaze, the individual fruits of the berry were shaped like curling teardrops and shimmered gold like the setting sun. It was only slightly bigger than the others, which was why she hadn't noticed it at first.

Then the flavor hit her and Juniper choked, hand involuntarily slapping over her mouth despite her willing—pleading with herself to spit the thing out. Its texture revoltingly similar to cartilage and hair—the flavor akin to tar and battery acid. Tears dripped down her face as her mouth itched, then burned, liquid fire dripping down her open throat as it simply…

Slipped.

Back.

She swallowed it.

Gasping for air, Juniper braced her hands on the desk, her nails digging into the wood finish as she stared wide-eyed at the pages of a brochure, unseeing as she wondered what the hell just happened. She scrambled for the garbage can, coughing and spitting as she tried to get that flavor out of her mouth, her fingers diving into her throat to induce vomiting, because whatever the hell that was she didn't want it in her body.

Nothing but bile and saliva came up, and Juniper wheezed desperately, hands shaking as they gripped the rim of the basket.

She needed to call someone. 911. Poison Control—

A shocking heat scalded through her and Juniper couldn't even muster the voice to scream. All her nerves felt like they were lit aflame, searing like a brand beneath her flesh, lights erupting behind her eyes.

Distantly, sirens wailed.

"ATTENTION. ATTENTION. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. EVACUATION ORDERS INITIATED TO LEVEL THREE. ALL OCCUPANTS ARE REQUIRED TO VACATE THE IMMEDIATE AREA. ALL PERSONNEL—"

She tumbled, the chair toppling to the floor. The air was thick and she gasped, fingers scrabbling on the carpet as she tried to drag herself to where she knew the nearest phone sat, blind in her struggle.

"—ADVISED TO FOLLOW PREDESIGNATED ROUTES. PERIMETER ROADBLOCKS HAVE BEEN ESTABLISHED—"

Juniper shouted, shaking as new pain ripped through her, a loud howling in her ears drowning out the announcement. Heat. Like fire. Like ice.

It burned.

She was burning.

"—I REPEAT—"

Her life.

Her home.

It's all—

The world compressed with an overwhelming roar, winking away in a clap of thunder.

xXx

Gone.

xXx

Plunged into darkness, she was swallowed whole.

The stillness as vast as the space between stars.

A gasp escaped her, the frail sound echoing like a cavern, snatched away by the yawning abyss. She was falling, her form tumbling through the endless dark, dress billowing about in a formless breeze. Her arms reached out, a futile effort to grab something—anything—to halt her descent, her hand pale and washed out in direct disparity to the blackness.

She shouted in despair, but her voice was consumed as soon as it left her lips, leaving her in silent freefall. Terror gripping her throat as she twirled, calling out for someone—anyone!

The darkness was all encompassing. Absolute. A bottomless void.

But as if in answer, a streak of light flashed past her, bright and luminous and flaming like a falling star.

It was followed by another, and yet another.

More beams of light streaked around her falling form, fluttering and sparking and spinning in space.

They were birds.

Singing to her in silent voices, their song was not heard with her ears, but heard none-the-less, trilling and cooing and warbling in joy. "Fly!" They chorused, brushing around her legs and pirouetting around her outstretched arms, "You're here! Here! Fly! Hello! You're here! Hi!"

It was like being surrounded by a crowd of children, their little talons tugging on her dress as they egged her on. They spun with her through the darkness, banishing it away with their beauteous light, scattering it like the rainbow refractions of a clear crystal in the sun, laughing and singing all the way.

Their joy was contagious and she laughed with them despite the terror, horizons shifting and bisecting through the gloom and growing more defined. Suns rose and set with the urgency of a sped up film, flipping past so quickly that she had to close her eyes, the sight dizzying.

They wanted her to fly… but how?

"Hurry! Hurry! Fly! Hello? Fall?" They sang, more insistent now, an almost concerned urgency in their tones; like they didn't understand why she wasn't doing what they wanted. "Broken?"

A pause rippled through the flock as they seemed to consider this.

Then they vanished like a spray of embers.

She tried calling them back, but something thrummed through the remaining dark, exploding her sight in a wash of pure white. A pained cry erupted from her throat as massive talons encircled her body, her spine bursting in agony.

A fluttering of wings filled the air.

xXx

Blue.

Like water...

xXx

Juniper snapped awake, breath catching as her heart thundered wildly in her chest.

It was not the familiar vaulting of the church ceiling that greeted her, but a different one—an unfamiliar one—criss-crossed with thick beams of dark wood and what looked like white filigreed stucco. Juniper blinked in confusion, squinting to stare blearily at the carved plaster, her mind still whirling over her bizarre dream that she couldn't quite recall.

Just the feeling of falling...

She stuck her glasses to her face, the lenses blessedly still attached to the delicate chain around her neck, and blinked at what she saw.

Perhaps she was still dreaming, because the room she'd found herself in was right out of a history text.

Opulence was an understatement, as every surface had been carved and polished with obsessive consideration, not a speck of dust to be found. Gold-leafing shimmered along the carvings of chairs and cabinet doors, speaking of a person who at the very least loved the idea of luxury. Even the silken bedsheets surrounding her did little to dissuade this notion.

She pinched herself.

It hurt.

That's not a good sign, Juniper thought, rubbing at the reddening flesh.

So she sat up, still dumbfounded but determined to figure things out, throwing off the feather comforter and allowing her legs to dangle over the edge of the bed, bare toes inching to the floor. Her boots lay nearby, socks meticulously folded over them which only added to the neurotic vibes of the room's owner.

Something however, brushed her hair when she bent to grab them and she let out a muffled shriek of surprise, jumping away and whipping around.

A loud whump cut through the air, and a few fancy displays scattered as the thing moved with her, the baubles clattering and crashing to the floor. She stiffened at the noise, feeling strange, like an extension of herself was reaching out, and Juniper followed the shadow with her eyes.

She blinked. Hard. Scrubbing at her eyelids just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

Feathers met her gaze, a wing bending out and around her like a protective veil, black as night and shivering with every breath. Juniper's breathing quickened, a panic building in her chest as she turned to see that there indeed was another one, its twin on her other side. She reached back, tentatively, her fingertips touching to where she knew her scapula was, only to be met with fine down.

Wings… I have wings, she thought, incredulous, retracting her hand and allowing it to fall to her side. Knees growing weak, she slunk down to the floor, rear plopping down between her ankles. Her new wings draped around her body, meeting her bent knees as they too weakly flopped to the floor.

What in the world was happening?

This can't be real.

Juniper tried to remember how she got here, racking her brain for recollection of the event, but all she could recall was the awful taste of that gold berry, incredible pain, and darkness. No notions of how she arrived in this room came to mind, which brought on the terrifying conclusion that someone had found her unconscious.

She patted herself down, searching…

Her keys and wallet were conspicuously missing.

Casting her eyes about in an effort to find her lost articles, Juniper realized upon eyeing the room at large that she wasn't going to find a damn thing among the heaps of glittering clutter.

She turned to look at the only door, its beautifully carved surface ominous to her eyes, a quiet promise that once she opened it, there was no going back.

She was going to have to go outside.

Swallowing nervously, she stood, bare toes feeling the grooves of the polished floorboards—reminding Juniper that shoes were usually a desired article on any venture. She grabbed up her socks, slipping them on before quickly donning her boots, glad for her foresight in considering ankle protection and the low heels.

There's no knowing what could be out there, she rationalized, tightening the laces with a firm jerk of her hands, Running might be a necessity.

Her new wings proved to be a nuisance and difficult to ignore, throwing off her balance as her attention was split between lacing up her boots and keeping the extra limbs organized. She caught herself tipping a few times, the wings unwieldy and bulky, forcing her to brace them on the floor around her so their extra weight wouldn't impede her efforts.

She couldn't even begin to guess how to use the damned things. They were heavy.

Finally satisfied with the state of her footwear, Juniper straightened up and faced the door. Noting, with no small amount of trepidation, that the figures carved into it displayed a battle both demonic and angelic, the minute details of wings and fangs showing just how dedicated the artist had been to their craft.

It was ominous.

With an aching hesitancy that brought sweat to her palms, Juniper reached for the knob, it's surface moulded into the likeness of a spider lily. She turned the device, it's internal mechanisms loud as they ratcheted like the gears of a clock, a metallic click echoing through the room once it reached the end. The door bore some weight, so it was with a modicum of effort that Juniper had to heave it open just a crack.

Chill wind filtered in from the outside, crisp and cold, billowing the fabric of her dress with naught but a whisper. The light from outside was muted, a dense fog casting the world in a pale blue haze and shrouding the deck beyond.

She was on a ship.

Certainly, she had suspected before—what with the obvious layout of the cabin—but to be actually faced with the truth left Juniper feeling a bit daunted. Just how in the world did I get here? she wondered, slowly inching her head, then shoulders out from behind the door's solid protection. Juniper could hear the steady creak of yard lines above as she tentatively took a step outside, a steadying hand allowing her to brace against the cabin wall.

It appeared to be early morning, not a soul in sight, likely all resting in the decks below. The quiet groan of the ship was almost cacophonous to the gentle sounds of water lapping against the hull. The waves casually rolled the ship to it's whims and made it dip and tilt to the rhythm, the steady sway an almost sickening motion that did little to assuage her nerves.

Juniper breathed deeply, sucking in the saline air and attempted to calm her racing heart and nausea. She didn't usually get motion sick, but the shock of everything right now didn't do her constitution any favors. She was on a ship, an 18th century sailing vessel it looked like, at an unknown location in the middle of nowhere.

She was entirely within her rights to be panicking.

But instead, she took several more calming breaths, centering herself—blind panic wouldn't do her any good, she needed to have a clear head for whatever was to come.

Her new appendages dragged behind her like the train of a ball gown, gently whispering as the feathers swept across the floorboards. Juniper stepped lightly, not wanting her boot heels to make too much noise as she ventured toward the port side of the ship, a small flutter of hope in her chest that maybe… just maybe, they were docked near land.

She was sorely disappointed. Only open water greeted her gaze.

Juniper quietly fretted over her next step, pacing the length of the ship's railing in a nervous daze. Clearly, her mysterious benefactor had her comfort at heart, if the manner at which she awoke was any indication; as they very well could have simply thrown her in a cell. However, their intentions were what concerned her the most, as 18th century sailors were not exactly known to having the best historical record when it came to hospitality.

Gnawing on the end of her thumbnail, Juniper stopped her frantic pacing, feeling rather ill all of a sudden. The black down of her new wings provided some modicum of comfort as they hugged around her shivering body, warming her against the chilled air.

Just what was she supposed to do?

A door slammed open behind her, effectively snapping her out of her musings and just about making her leap out of her skin. She jerked around, wide-eyed, with her heart pounding in her ears and her new feathers prickling in alarm, leaning against the railing like she was willing herself to melt into it.

An opulent man strode on deck from the opposite side she'd come from, his visage intimidatingly beautiful. His indomitable gaze zeroed in on her position with the precision of a hawk, the aquiline construction of his nose completing the image. For a moment, their eyes met, his stare intense and uncomfortable.

Searing.

A fire she found no warmth in and left her chilled to the bone.

After a moment, his expression softened into something simpering, like one does when meeting a cute animal or baby for the first time, greeting her with words she couldn't comprehend. He spoke smooth and elegantly with an inflection that reminded her vaguely of the romance languages, but was just enough adjacent to be not quite the same. He was as beautiful and extravagant as the room she awoke in, his ears endowed with glittering rings that twinkled in the dim light, his long curling locks the color of spun gold beneath the ivory white of a feathered tricorn.

Obviously, he was the one in charge.

I have to be dreaming, Juniper thought, baffled at the period costume and taking in its intricate detail. It was too much, too surreal; the ship, the wings, the man before her… she needed to get out of here. She needed to get home.

But how? Where would I even begin?

His stare had intensified during her daze, clearly misinterpreting her vacant ogling to mean something else, and Juniper recoiled as he seemed to take this as some unspoken permission, treading into her space and murmuring something that sounded far too intimate in the tone he was using.

He was too close.

She shook her head, quickly stepping aside so he couldn't loom over her, the wings rising up between them in defense. "No. Don't come closer. I don't understand you," Juniper ordered in the most stern voice she could, making him freeze in his tracks and noting, with a bit of a startled realization, that the color of his irises were magenta. She kept her surprise to herself, not wanting to give the man the inch he already seemed inclined to take.

"A'me~" the man began, backing away and placing a hand on his chest dramatically, his accent thick, "You speak Lynian, of course! Please excuse mine rudeness, darling—So lost was I in beauty, I forget myself." He bowed with a flourish, his earrings clinking together like the tinkling of little bells. "Mine name is Jacques Arsenne, Capitaino of the Bele Alphonsa. It brings great happiness to see you well, Madama. I trust you slept well?"

"It was… fine," Juniper supplied cautiously, a little thrown by his display and still suspicious of his intentions. She didn't trust that they were pure, not with how he'd loomed over her earlier. But considering how limited her options were at the moment, Juniper didn't think she could afford to be choosy.

She could play nice. For now.

"Where exactly am I, Captain?" She asked, eyes darting when she noticed movement in the fog, tensing when she saw other men beginning to bustle about. They appeared to be busy, towing ropes and climbing lines as they prepared the ship for sail, their eyes shadowed and a bit too wide as they glanced at her.

Juniper quickly turned her gaze back to the captain, unease curling in her gut.

There was something wrong.

"Please, mine fraulou, call me Arsenne," The captain urged, ushering her along with a gentle, but still rather forceful hand back in the direction of the cabin, his body blocking her sight of the other crewmen, "Such travels mean we are on given name basis, yes? The Grand Line not always so kind."

Given name? But the first name he spoke was—ah, I see. The name order is surname first while the given name is second, Juniper thought, as she nodded along to placate him, "I understand, Mister Arsenne."

"And you, Madama?" Arsenne asked, and Juniper forced herself not to tense as she felt his hand flex against her lower back, his eyes too bright as he focused on her, "What shall I call you, little lebele?"

Jaw clenching, Juniper willed her expression not to change as she smiled vapidly, curling a finger through her hair to loop it over her ear. She was really getting sick of all these nicknames. "Oh, um… I'm Joan," she said airily, hoping to God she wasn't laying it on too thick as she blinked up at him in her best customer service face, "Thank you for rescuing me."

She wasn't certain why, but providing her real name just didn't sit well with her.

"Joan!" he exclaimed, seemingly thrilled as he took one of her hands in both of his own, theatrical as he swooned. "A vunderbeau name for a vunderbeau fraulou! Like the great Joan D. Ark of mine homeland! O Madama, mercei und mine heurz!" His sentences devolved into a series of praises that she couldn't even begin to understand, the language slipping between what sounded like vague French interspersed with German.

Oh, damn it, they have their own Joan of Arc?! She despaired internally, still smiling along and feeling more uncomfortable the longer it dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he appeared to finish his fanboyish endorsements to her womanly virtues, his hands now clasped around her own and breathing deeply as he came down from his passionate frenzy. Several of his golden hairs were a bit out of place, and Juniper strongly resisted the brief urged that came forth to straighten them—or stranger still, pluck them out and hoard them somewhere.

Not exactly an impulse she wished to explore, Juniper struggled to find a topic to bring up, noting that they were standing once more in front of the opulent door. He still had her hands clutched tight, his own spindly fingers like a claw trap around her smaller fists. "Uhm—" she began, only to cut herself off as the man lifted his face to give her a smouldering leer, a look that surely made her feel naked before his gaze as he unclasped one of his hands to caress her jawline and cup her chin.

She withheld a scandalized shudder, the audacity of the action leaving her speechless and stirring up the burgeoning fear that had set itself into her stomach at the start of this encounter.

"A'me~ Such vunderbeau eyes," Arsenne pronounced slowly, his thumb idly toying with her bottom lip and parting the flesh slightly. Juniper couldn't resist the shiver this time, her wing feathers practically standing on end as he backed her up against the heavy door, thudding against the hardwood and leaving her nowhere to run. "I have great… happiness for pretty little things."

Juniper didn't think for one second he meant "happiness" in the standard definition, not with the way his mouth curled around the word like a filthy suggestion, a heady promise of carnal acts. No. There was nothing chaste about this interaction, his hard grip on her jaw was practically bruising as he tilted her head back, forcing Juniper to crane her neck to his height.

His magenta eyes glinted eerily, the smile no longer kind. If the door hadn't stopped her, Juniper definitely would have recoiled further as he leaned in and said, "That is a good look, Madama Joan. I would have you with this—"

"Capitano," one of the crew interrupted, eliciting an absolutely venomous look on Arsenne's face, the handsome facade shattering completely as his expression twisted into a hideous snarl. Juniper gladly ducked her chin out of his grasp, eyes wide and thankful that someone else was now taking the brunt of his attention; only feeling a little bad when she saw how even his own crewman recoiled from his intense stare.

No one is safe on this ship, she mused, nursing her jaw as the captain abruptly withdrew from her space, least of all his own crew.

They spoke amongst themselves in their language, the volleys between their exchange going by so quick that Juniper couldn't even begin to guess at what they were saying. But by how the man was standing though, and the stiff deference he gave despite the captain's obvious displeasure at the interruption, Juniper surmised that it had to be a report of some kind.

An important one.

Their conversation ended all too soon. The crewman having been promptly dismissed with a disgusted look, Arsenne's face contorted unpleasantly.

He rounded on her too quickly to think much of it, his voice back to that slimy tone that made her skin crawl. "Seems a storm comes, Madama Joan. I insist you retire to cabin, as it will be… Quite rough. Food and drink are waiting, as well a dress I would very like to see you wear." He stroked her cheek then, a wicked grin on his lips.

"Until later," he promised, before sweeping her inside and slamming the door with the finality of a coffin lid.

The lock latched.

And Juniper, with her feathers prickling and practically all the hair on her body standing on end, promptly marched over to the bed, picked up the pillow, and screamed into it.

This was not happening!

It was bad enough that she'd eaten something disgusting and been whisked away in the same breath, but to find herself in the clutches of a perverse narcissist was certainly a new low to an already shit day.

Humiliation burned in her chest, still able to feel that—that man's disgusting fingers against her skin, desperation and revulsion twisting in her gut at the mere thought. She scrubbed at her face with her hands, trying to rid herself of his touch. She felt trapped. Backed into a corner with no means to escape. A veritable bird in a cage.

For a moment, Juniper saw red.

She was no canary.

In a fit of incandescent rage, Juniper swept her hands, pillow and all, over the nearest overburdened table. Plates and jewelry scattered to the floor in a cacophonous clatter that was backed by the roar of thunder. She screamed, a wrathful knell that tore through her throat before raising her new wings like the worlds most feathery bludgeons and slamming them into every glass surface she could find. The limbs were heavy, which was perfect for the task at hand. The power behind each swing splintered wooden frames and shattered ceramic, black feathers flying free as she utterly wrecked everything within her path.

Glass and broken wood crashed to the floor, Juniper ripping them open with a fury she'd never felt in her life. She was sick of this. Sick of being treated like a limp doll with no will of her own. Her home. Her library. Her life. Did she have no choice in this? What had she done to deserve this fate?

Juniper, in her rampage, barely caught a glimpse of the dress that horrid captain had practically ordered her to wear. Red. Flimsy. Hardly proper in polite society. She ripped it apart, shredding the lace and bisecting every seam of the corset with her talons—

She froze.

Razor sharp and as black as obsidian shards, long curling claws several inches long greeted her gaze through the frayed remains of the dress. Chest heaving, Juniper breathed heavily in stunned silence, the roar of the storm outside sounding distant even as the floor began to rock beneath her.

Her vision liquified once more, the black talons fading into an abstract blur that shifted slowly back into pink flesh, the skin around her fingertips raw and bleeding a little from her frantic destruction.

"What is—" Juniper choked, the words cutting off as her throat quivered with a sob, the tears that had been dammed up finally releasing their floodgates as they dripped warmly down her cheeks, "Oh, God… What is happening to me?"

Was she some kind of monster now? What had that berry done to her? This was more than just a pair of deadweight wings she had no control over. Something had fundamentally changed with her entire biology and she hadn't the slightest idea what to do. Juniper was frightened beyond anything she'd ever felt, more than the clutching fear of losing her home and livelihood. No. This… This was absolute terror.

What was going to become of her?

Unable to hold back any longer, Juniper dropped her face into her palms and wept. Her soul wrenching cries were loud in the solitude of her formerly pretty prison, her legs growing weak as she sunk to the floor, shards of porcelain and woodchips digging into her knees. Her wings ached, feathers now in complete disarray from her careless battering, little droplets of blood sloughing off some of the more sleek plumes and dripping to the floor.

Thunder roared overhead.

What am I supposed to do? Juniper pleaded, not sure who she should be beseeching, her hands shaking with both emotion and pain, "Someone… Please."

"Hello?"

Juniper jerked out of her palms with a strangled gasp, stinging eyes darting around the room. She knew that voice—Or at least, thought she knew. It felt familiar, like the vague semblance of a dream after waking, niggling at the far corners of her mind with a frustration that begged her to remember.

But still, no matter how hard she tried, the memory eluded her.

"Who's there?" she called, carefully rising to stand, wincing as her knees resettled from their uneven position among the debris.

No response.

Warily, Juniper crossed the distance to the captain's desk, where she was certain the sound had originated, her boots occasionally crunching upon glass fragments. She looked around, idly sniffling and wiping at her eyes, trying to regains some semblance of composure as her unease made way for curiosity. Though she wasn't certain as to why, she did not feel at all threatened by the strange voice.

It was actually rather comforting.

"Here."

Juniper snapped her head around, convinced that she'd just seen something in her periphery. Something white and small, with the voice of a child. But she couldn't be sure as once again she didn't hear it speak with her ears. It was like the voice was directly inserting itself into her mind, ringing with perfect clarity.

She saw a small puff of fluffy down flutter precariously on the edge of the desk, the white feather strangely luminous against the wood—almost ethereal. Juniper made her way around the side of the desk just as the feather dropped out of sight, and when she fully rounded to where she thought it had fallen, it was not to be found.

Instead, there sat an opulent drawer and a small keyhole.

Outside, the wind began howling.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Juniper quoted with another sniff, wiping at her face to clear the last vestiges of her tears, a somewhat small thrill of excitement pulsing through her at the prospects of a mystery, "I wonder what you're hiding here?"

Because at the very least, she could use a distraction right now.

She cast her eyes about for something thin and metallic, feeling rather impish now that she'd found something interesting. After a moment of careful searching, overturning papers and cracking open snuff boxes, Juniper found what she was looking for among the various ornate calligraphy pens.

What she found was a beautifully decorated hair needle, that was about twice the length of her forefinger and thin enough for her purposes. The needle itself was composed of a slate grey material at the point, making it appear rather sword-like as it eventually made way for gold filigree. The intricate metal twined about like a pair of snakes, until it ended at an array of jewelled peacock feathers, a delicate chain of baubles trailing at its end.

While she took a moment to admire the specimen in her hand, curiosity over what was contained in the drawer eventually dragged her attention away from the sparkly adornment, and she snatched up a decidedly less adorned pin for the next part.

In no time at all, Juniper had picked the lock and snapped the drawer open, pleasantly surprised to find her missing articles next to a conspicuous ring of keys.

Juniper's brow furrowed, pocketing her own keys and wallet in their proper places before taking up the ring. Strange, she thought, eyeing the similar looking keys with just a hint of trepidation, Why would these be locked away?

"Hey."

She looked up.

White feathers rained before a blank wall. A wall so conspicuously blank, Juniper wondered how she'd never noticed it. Striding from her place at the desk, having found what she supposed she was meant to find, Juniper made her way over.

The sound of footfalls and shouting overhead were the last warning before the storm hit in full force.

She felt the floor shift under her feet, her center of gravity changing as a horrid wind roared outside. Thunder clashed and lightning strobed through the opulent back windows, the sea an undulating torrent that rose as high as mountains before dipping down into cavernous valleys. They rode the whims of the ocean, bobbing like a cork in a maelstrom.

However, Juniper didn't quite give a damn about all that.

Because the moment her hand brushed against a strangely worn piece of moulding along the wall, something clicked against her fingertips and the whole strip descended like a lever.

And the wall opened to a yawning void.

xXx

And like Alice in her Wonderland,

Down the rabbit hole she went,

Never to wonder how she was to get out again.