{"sf1_id":2242689,"sf2_id":"5nz35jO1","title":"Blue Skies for Black Wings","author":"Oliver_Hart","words":2365,"posted_at":"2025-04-11T14:46:54.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Bird","Crow","HMOFA","Human","Human male on female anthro","Male/Female","Scifi","corvid"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2242689-blue-skies-for-black-wings","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/5nz35jO1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/b1/4d/b14d3d9c-90d5-4f48-a28a-c0811bbf79fc","description":"Meet Elia Lonfeather, a crow whose best defense is lying. Also lives on autononymous.io","content":"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LBeCaIC4UQ\u0026list=PL9aXlzDRA49Rmp4y6Z9Si9dS2LvmTNY7S\u0026index=6  \n  \n\\\u003eDisappointing others is never easy, huh?  \n\\\u003eYou hate disappointing people  \n\\\u003eYou’ve only come this far by running away — literally — from this\u0026nbsp;painful inevitability  \n\\\u003eYou run away to protect yourself. That’s what you do. That’s who you are  \n\\\u003eAnd maybe you run to another fortress city of your kin, and you blend in for a few months  \n\\\u003eYou live, smiling, like one of them  \n\\\u003eBut…  \n\\\u003eIt always comes crashing down on you, like a house without a frame  \n\\\u003eThey almost discovered your ‘gift’ while you were living in Ohm  \n\\\u003eYou should thank the Ancestors they didn’t  \n  \n\\\u003eBecause failure means more than shame in this flock… and to you  \n\\\u003eIt was your failure that saw your family cast out from Solemn  \n\\\u003eYou can still remember the rifles aimed at you and your family….  \n\\\u003e…the things the guards yelled that rainy night at the gates of that titanous city  \n\\\u003e’Haasin!’  \n\\\u003e’Freak!’  \n  \n\\\u003eAll because of you  \n  \n\\\u003eBecause your best is just a little worse than everyone else’s average  \n\\\u003eIt’s the consequences of your inadequacy and burden, reminding you over and over with a hammer’s delicacy that  \n\\\u003eWho you are:  \n\\\u003eElia Longfeather  \n  \n\\\u003eIs not enough  \n  \n\\\u003eGullen touches on this with a modicum of delicacy, though he knows nothing of your history beyond arriving at Ciril a few months ago  \n\\\u003eHe’s only aware of the consequences of working with you — no doubt related to him by other ravens in the flock on duty  \n\\\u003eSo why did he choose to go on this scouting mission with you?  \n\\\u003eYou’re the one with the ultimatum above her head, not him  \n  \n\\\u003e”A shadow grows in my heart,” Gullen remarks as he tears himself away from the jagged, blown-out window. “The sun draws closer to the mountains every second.”  \n\\\u003eGullen’s tall stature and surly frame force him to bend as he approaches the small alcove housing your desk  \n\\\u003eGullen’s feet click off the dirty floor like an organic metronome, keeping rhythm to your pen scratching on old, skin-like parchment  \n\\\u003e“We can ill afford to remain idle. Darkness gathers like flies on a corpse. Are you finished translating the demon’s maps yet?”  \n  \n\\\u003eWhatever anxiety Gullen feels, you feel it almost double  \n  \n\\\u003eHey little crow, how long until the raven takes charge and leaves you behind?  \n\\\u003eIt wouldn’t be the first time  \n\\\u003eYou’re… practically ready for it at any moment  \n  \n\\\u003eGiving pause, you hold your gloved hands up to the weak everflame lamp set on the desk  \n\\\u003eYour talons tremble like you’re trying to grip the cinders from this morning’s cooking fire  \n\\\u003eNoticing Gullen’s incredulous stare, you chirp in embarrassment and hunch over the desk  \n  \n“I… I am nearly finished with the demon’s maps, brother. Maybe five, six more pages to go ov-” you stammer in quick reply  \n\\\u003eImpatient, Gullen interjects in  \n\\\u003e”Are you finished, or ‘nearly finished enough’ for us to leave while there is still some light left in the sky? As I said, darkness will soon be upon us.”  \n\\\u003eYou tell yourself he’s just eager to get back to the flock  \n\\\u003eNot that he’s sick of you, like so many others before him  \n  \n“A few more minutes, brother, and we will be on our way. By the Ancestors I swear it.”  \n\\\u003eLies  \n\\\u003eAll lies  \n\\\u003eThis map is a tangled mess, and there’s a lot left to translate  \n\\\u003eA fact lost on your impatient comrade, whose sole purpose in life is to fight  \n\\\u003e”Each second we waste looking at these demon scribbles is another second the humans have on us,” Gullen returns to the window and takes another anxious glance outside  \n\\\u003e”Other ravens in the flock say that Vulcada hunt during the night now — just a few of them, but enough to threaten our exit.”  \n“You are more alert than I am. Ease your heart — I am just finishing the route we must take according to what the demon wrote.”  \n  \n\\\u003eNight?  \n\\\u003eIt was high afternoon a few minutes ago! You thought you had the sun at your back-  \n\\\u003eA quick glance over your shoulder reveals the room bathed in the blue light of dusk, its hue deepening by the second  \n\\\u003eThe small everflame lamp on your desk casts the flicker of Gullen’s brawny shadow against the room’s eastern wall, covering up its faded yellow wallpaper  \n  \n\\\u003eAh feathers, you lost track of time again  \n  \n\\\u003eYou turn your beak down towards the maps, notes, and journals you picked off the dead demon — your sole task for the past few hours  \n\\\u003eYour gloved hands tremble with the coming rejection  \n\\\u003eA heart that always skips at the first sign of trouble  \n\\\u003eA voice that lies  \n\\\u003eThoughts of failure and inadequacy that haunt your mind  \n\\\u003eHow do you tell this raven — whose life depends on your ability to read human writing and interpret their human thinking — that you’ve no feathering idea what this part of the map says!?  \n\\\u003eIt’s not even your fault this time! The demon who you got these journals and maps off of must have had her mind scorched by something before you came across her body  \n\\\u003eBut you’re not in a position to give excuses right now. Just answers. That’s your job as a crow  \n\\\u003eSo you do what you always do to get by:  \n\\\u003eYou tell half of the truth  \n  \n“The demon’s journal says there is a passage beneath the city. I-If these maps are not decoys of some kind, then this map lines up with what the journal describes. I think it will take us out of the city, at least,” your words extend like an olive branch towards your doubting comrade  \n\\\u003eThat first part about there being a passage underground is no lie — in fact, the translation is almost a miracle itself  \n\\\u003eIt’s a near-mirror of your kin’s word for ‘underground walk’  \n\\\u003e’Sewer’  \n\\\u003e”Then why do we hesitate?” Gullen says as he bends his lanky body over your shoulder, his eyes as yellow as gold coin. “Do we linger out of cowardice? Or is this passage not safe?”  \n\\\u003eYour little heart speeds in your chest at the question  \n\\\u003eSee, the other half of the truth in this scenario is:  \n\\\u003eYou have no feathering idea if it’s safe to go into the sewers, and you can’t give him a definitive answer  \n\\\u003eNot one that he wants to hear, at least  \n  \n\\\u003eBecause there’s something about the map that you can’t figure out: an important word in demon-speak that slips your grasp of church field jargon, at the most crucial of times  \n\\\u003eThis word is written in crimson ink on the map in some places, scratched down in a panic  \n\\\u003e’Anomaly!’  \n\\\u003eYou’ve heard the other scouts use that word before, that crucial word…  \n\\\u003eYou swear, you know what it means, but that knowledge is inaccessible to you now while being blitzed by anxiety  \n\\\u003eGullen flashes another panicked look over his shoulder, his narrowed gaze piercing out of the hotel room window  \n\\\u003eHe tries to make sense of the outskirts of the city, draped in shadow and dusk  \n\\\u003e”If this passage provides safety, we must take it. Surely the demon’s map has left clues for us you can read,” he inquires, tone shifting just a touch towards blame  \n\\\u003eYou think… you think his patience has at last worn thin, like the light wore thin against the dark  \n\\\u003eLike now  \n\\\u003eAnxiety coils itself around your heart like a python coils around a field mouse  \n\\\u003eThoughts that rattle around your body and settle in the space between the heart and the synapse  \n  \n\\\u003eYou try to motivate yourself out of panic-paralysis  \n\\\u003eSelf-medicating with positive thinking can sometimes work, right?  \n\\\u003eYou are crow, are you not? Who are you to ignore your own skills and prowess?  \n\\\u003eYou’re capable, you’re smart  \n  \n\\\u003eYou still can’t answer Gullen  \n  \n\\\u003eHow about this? Here’s some better motivation:  \n\\\u003eYou’re already out of chances with Artemis  \n\\\u003eYour flock leader’s words haunted you this entire mission  \n\\\u003e‘Returning empty-handed would be a mistake.’  \n\\\u003eAre captured maps of this part of purgatory good enough for Artemis?  \n\\\u003eFuck it, they have to be good enough  \n\\\u003eYour life might depend on it  \n  \n\\\u003eYou feel your beak unhinge, your dry tongue flick in your mouth as you speak  \n  \n“Yes, yes, it is safe, brother. I believe the demon intended to use the tunnel to escape the city and report the location of these artifacts that she wrote of in her journal,” you say  \n\\\u003eAnother half-truth — the ‘sewer’ route does lead indeed lead out of the city to depending on which route you take underground  \n\\\u003eSome of these tunnels end in neighborhoods, villages, others end in a waste processing plant — and that plant has a big red ‘X’ on it  \n\\\u003eIt might… be safe to leave from the neighborhoods and go east?  \n\\\u003eBut it doesn’t matter if it’s safe — you need to get back to Ciril with these maps before Gullen kills you out of frustration  \n\\\u003eHarvesters, cross builders, wildlife, anaree aside  \n\\\u003eAs if he read your mind, Gullen’s already gathered his things into his backpack  \n  \n\\\u003e”Then we make for the underground passage. Collect your notes and let us be off,” Gullen says as he turns his attention towards the deadbolt on the door to the room  \n\\\u003eHe swings his chemical rifle into his grasp as his nimble talon work at the locks  \n\\\u003eOne by one the heavy locks thunk open and shake their rust  \n\\\u003eThe door parts just a feather’s-width  \n\\\u003eYour comrade pokes his beak out into the hallway for a brief look  \n  \n\\\u003eIt’s silent, minus the slight breeze that flows in from the shattered window at your back  \n\\\u003e”The air is heavy in this hallway,” he reports back. “You should look, sister — the Ancestors will reveal to you more than me.”  \n“Yes, yes, I will be there in a moment,” you say in an anxious breath, already in the process of packing  \n\\\u003eMoving as fast as you can, you cram everything from the desk into your bag, leaving only the map and the human’s journal to carry by hand  \n\\\u003eYou stand up and sling the messenger bag around your chest, satisfied with your hasty work  \n  \n\\\u003eAnd yet again, you are wrong about your conduct and instincts  \n\\\u003eAs you sling your bag around your shoulders, everything falls apart  \n\\\u003eLiterally  \n\\\u003eIn a beige hurricane your little world flutters out into the open as your bag spills its contents  \n\\\u003eLoose notes crammed in a hurry; a few pens; small journals; your own private dream journal; sketches; and every bit of paper the demon was carrying that you didn’t get to go over all flutters in a useless hurricane onto the floor  \n\\\u003eYou realize you forgot to belt the top of your bag closed  \n  \n\\\u003eYou squawk in surprise, embarrassment, and something bordering of frustration  \n\\\u003e”Sister,” Gullen sighs. “Why must you bring a library with you on missions into dangerous places? What is all this, anyway?”  \n\\\u003eHe snatches a leaf of drifting paper out of the air and studies it  \n\\\u003eYour stomach drops, and a horror so deep, so primal overcomes you, that you have no choice but to surrender  \n  \n\\\u003eGullen squints  \n\\\u003e”Is this a map? This is a very old map if it is one.”  \n“Give me that!” you snap the paper from his grasp, clutching it close to your body like a frightened newborn. “Th-these are just my notes! A-and I remember my n-notes better if I write them like this.”  \n\\\u003eYou briefly examine the old, faded parchment map in your hands  \n\\\u003eMom and dad’s map of Purgatory, your mother’s handwriting still clinging to the barely-faded page  \n\\\u003eYou stop and stare at it for a bit  \n  \n\\\u003eGullen rolls his eyes and groans. “Be swift about cleaning up. We need to leave.”  \n  \n“This will take just one second, I promise.” you squeak as you then speed around the room  \n\\\u003eYou hurry and snap papers off the ground and the ruined furniture, shoving them without order into your bag  \n\\\u003eGullen just watches, tapping his anxious talons against the wall like a metronome  \n  \n“As you said, let us be off brother-” you say as you cram the last of the last of your notes into your bag  \n\\\u003eYou spin on your heels, a blush scouring your face, and storm towards the door, ready to leave  \n\\\u003eYou’re so embarrassed, and moving so quickly, that you gasp in shock when Gullen moves to block you from the door  \n\\\u003e”Sister,” Gullen crosses his arms across his chest  \n\\\u003eHis young — almost handsome features — narrow into an annoyed scowl  \n\\\u003e”Your rifle, sister,” he says as he points behind you  \n\\\u003eYou let out a surprised cheep and spin  \n\\\u003eYour own chemical rifle leans against the wrought-iron bed-frame, looking forgotten and alone in the burgeoning darkness  \n\\\u003eOops  \n  \n\\\u003eColor rises to your cheeks  \n\\\u003e…Why are you like this?  \n\\\u003e…Why can’t you do anything right?  \n  \n“T-thank you, brother. I would not have heard the end from Artemis if I left my weapon behind,” you say with a nervous chuckle, putting up your collars on your shirt to hide your blush  \n\\\u003e”A talking to is the least you’d get, sister. If I showed up without my weapon, I’d be doing more than hard labor,” he says, drawing attention to his rank above you  \n\\\u003eDefinitely on purpose  \n“Understood,” is your reply, dry and tired  \n  \n\\\u003eYou gather yourself with a deep breath, filling your lungs with as much courage and dusty air as possible  \n\\\u003eOkay, mental checklist time:  \n\\\u003eWeapon slung across your back now?  \n\\\u003eCheck  \n\\\u003eAmmo  \n\\\u003e…You think you have some alchemical rounds left in your jacket or ammo pouch somewhere…  \n\\\u003eBesides, Gullen should have extras, so he can always give you some  \n\\\u003eSo, ammo, check  \n\\\u003eScout’s bag?  \n\\\u003eCheck  \n\\\u003eGloves?  \n\\\u003eBIG check  \n\\\u003eflare pistol?  \n\\\u003eAround your hips, on your belt  \n\\\u003eAlways loaded?  \n\\\u003eYou flick the pistol open  \n\\\u003eA packed shell sits inside, ready for you to fire  \n\\\u003eAlways loaded  \n\\\u003eMap of your route?  \n\\\u003eUhhhhh  \n\\\u003eYou panic for a second, and then remember you’re holding the map in your hands  \n\\\u003eCheck  \n\\\u003eGullen pushes the door open for you with one arm, a gesture for you to get going  \n\\\u003eYou slip underneath the crook of his arms and take your position in your marching orders:  \n\\\u003eThe front, with all of your senses wide open  \n“Ready to move,” you say","series":{"name":"Foxing","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2240853-flush-from-the-den.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2242693-the-fox-and-the-crow.json"}}