[Kallile]

The city was anything but silent tonight. There was an almost electric buzz in the air as people scurried around for the final preperations. The crashing of the waves on the coastline just beyond the building were completely lost to the sounds of pounding footsteps as people ran here and there to meet their task deadlines.

The convention center had been transformed into something of high fashion—booths were lined up outside with preorder catalogs and sample garments for viewing pleasure. Off to one side was a room dedicated to the models for signing autographs—their faces plastered up on the wall behind their already bodyguard laden tables with stacks of pens and pictures ready to go. But all that was still relatively empty for the time being; the real action was in the back.

Makeshift dressing lanes had been set up—huge lights perfect for makeup and salon artists alike. Cart after cart of outfits were along the side labeled with the models name. There was one such cart, however, that was missing one important piece.

“Vhere is zat shawl!?” The coordinator yowled, pacing around frantically as the clock continued to tick closer and closer to showtime.  A young woman poked her head from around one side of the cat, half dressed in the under-things of the outfit to keep its intended proportions flawless for debut. The lines of her face were soft and feminine, her body lithe but by no means unhealthily thin. Dark brown curls cascaded gently onto her shoulders and her blue eyes seemed to carry the same smile her lips were more publically broadcasting.


“Don’t worry, Evett. It will be here, I’m sure. If not the outfit is…”

”RUINED!”

The young woman jumped a bit, but only shook her head and went back to carefully putting on the rest of the piece. It would all be fine even without the bejeweled shawl, certainly. Hopefully no one would ever notice that the centerpiece of the show wasn’t there…

[Jaykobell]

He couldn't really blame it on traffic. He could, however, blame it on the fact that if people had the decency to remember he wasn't the only worker back at the post office, he wouldn't be starting to run late in his deliveries.

Oh, right. He was the only competent worker there, so obviously everyone had to give him all the deliveries. Not only that, how about giving him deliveries that are far away from each other, too? Yeah, make him go around the entire freaking continent!

Yeah, how about, not so much!

And just like all the other destinations, this one looked just as ridiculous. Thankfully, it was late and if he could clear this delivery quickly, he would be able to go back home for the night and be done with it. Getting stuck here because of someone stupid at the front was far from being an ideal evening plan. He wanted to drop the thing off at the reception involved, get them to sign the papers, get everything cleared up, and then go home.

Simple, right? Yeah, simple in theory, but never so simple in practice.

The overall interior and design of the center mattered very little to the unusual deliveryman. Stepping inside the building, he tucked his stork-like wings tightly against his back, even if, despite that, they still stood out like two sore thumbs. Anyone here would end up seeing him would freak out, call him names, whatever — something or other just to make a comment about him. He might just feel feisty and I-don't-give-a-damn enough tonight to punch one or two people in the face if they dared to comment on the wings.

With the package under his arm, he made his way towards the closest thing to a reception area — because that's why they always dropped everything off. If there was no reception area, then he would ask someone who to give this thing to, and then be on his merry way out. "Stork Delivery Service," he announced as he showed the package  he was delivering, together with some papers to sign in order to acknowledge receipt of the package and its contents. "Sign this and take the package, or tell me who's supposed to get it."

[Kallile]

Unfortunately for Cristobel, the desk he would find himself at was being managed by an elder woman with horn-rimmed glasses who, after giving him a quick glance to the package, his wings, and finally his face, waved him to the entrance into the dressing rooms. “Daft boy, don’t just wander around up here, you’ll get mobbed. This your first show?”

Without waiting long for an answer, the woman pushed her chair away from the desk and leaned forward to seem more confiding. “You won’t make it far in this business just waltzing around up here. And you should have been here hours ago for your spray tan and oiling sessions! And one more thing…”

“Um, I…think you’re here for me.”

The voice would be a welcome one compared to the harsh and raspy tones of the older woman currently doing everything just short of wagging her finger at him. The woman in question, however, was just barely in view. Clutching the edge of a red curtain to the entrance the elder had first directed him to, just her head peeked around them. “But she’s right, you had better come back here. Doors open in just a few minutes and you will have people swarming all over you for pictures with those.”

She nodded towards his wings but there was hardly need for it; as if on cue, two barely clothed models brushed past her complete with large sets of white wings on their backs. They gave Cristobel a head to toe look over before wrinkling their noses in empty-headed confusion. “And I really hate to sound selfish, but I will be mobbed if I go out there to sign for it.”

[Jaykobell]

Exactly. It didn't work in practice.

If only because this lady was elderly, this was the only reason why he wasn't flinging a punch square into her face. He wasn't kidding; he was seriously at the end of his fuse at this time, and having this old woman nag him wasn't helping at all. Yes, this was his first show, but honestly, he didn't give a damn where he was specifically.

When the conversation quickly turned to him actually being part of this whole thing, however, the winged deliveryman backpedalled. What in the world was this old hag going on about? "Are you insane, you old hag?" he called out, now clutching the package almost out habit, as if afraid the old woman was going to jump at him and take it from him. Oils and tans? What in the world was this woman going on about? This was just ridiculous!

The other voice wasn't really helping him out, but at least that woman looked more intelligent than that old hag that was going about oiling and tans. Apparently there was no time to hang around too long, so he just ignored those two winged barely-clothed women and made his way towards the hiding girl, package still under his arm. "Listen, I honestly don't give a damn about what's happening here," he answered as he finally reached the young woman, almost shoving the paper in her face. "Just sign this paper saying you got the package, take the package, and then I can leave and we'll both be happy." What a grumpy deliveryman.

[Kallile]

The woman at the front desk gave a hmph and ‘well I never!’ as Cristobel stalked off. He had a much kinder reception from Kyrie, who only smiled gently at him as he took her advice. He, however, stopped short of coming backstage and before Kyrie could give any real protest to it there were papers waving in her face.  The young model was a bit taken aback by this, but didn’t put up much protest to counter it. Reaching up she took the papers carefully and gave them a quick glance.

She was honestly more perplexed to hear that he didn’t know what was going on here. They had plenty of male fans who would sport wings in support of their more scantily clad models…so if he didn’t realize that’s where he was why was he wearing them? “You’re at the debut of Madame Evett’s fall line of clothing, by the way.” She offered softly as she continued to glance over the paper. It was then the man might happen to notice that the woman was dressed in a silk gown that fit like a glove with slits in places most men would find jaw-dropping. It would explain her reason for hiding from the msses just outside the doors.

“I’m so sorry, but I need to see the piece before I can sign this. It’s not that I doubt your company, but if this is the wrong package both our jobs might be on the line if I sign and you leave." There was worry in her voice, however it just happened to be worry about this disgruntled deliveryman. Even if she lost her job here she would manage…but she would hate for him to risk expulsion on her behalf if it was not the correct package and Madame Evett went on a rampage about it.

[Jaykobell]

It was precisely because of the model's clothing that the deliveryman was keeping his attention occupied elsewhere. Thankfully, shoving the papers right into her face and having her be distracted by them was enough to keep the two of them from looking at each other.

At the girl's mention of him being at some sort of debut of some person's clothing line, his interest dropped even lower — if that was even possible, considering his already-irritated mood. "No clue who or what that is," he replied flatly, completely uninterested in whoever "Madame Evrett" was or whatever clothes she wanted to portray. As he continued to wait for the girl to sign the delivery papers, his wings ruffled just slightly, spreading just a little bit of dust and other wing-debris about. Nothing much and barely noticeable, but it was identical to a wild bird ruffling its feathers to puff itself up. Seemingly unbeknownst to everyone else here, his wings were far from being fake.

When the model refused to sign the papers unless she saw the contents of the package, the winged man sighed irritably. "At this point, I honestly don't care what you want to do with it," he growled slightly as he just handed the package over. "I'm not an amateur, I deliver what I'm supposed to to the right recipients," he argued, though he was still looking elsewhere, so his flat tone made it hard to guess just how upset or insulted he was. "Rip it up if you want, I don't care if it makes you sign those papers."

[Kallile]

Kyrie gave a little smile and a shrug. “I didn’t really expect you would…most people don’t know her work yet. Besides that, you’re not exactly here for the show.” Besides the fact that he was delivering a package, his deliberate lack of looking her general direction hadn’t escaped the young woman’s notice. She was so used to being stared at that it was blatantly obvious when someone was avoiding her eye.

At his growl she lost the smile quickly. “Oh, no, I wasn’t trying to imply that you’re not perfectly capable of doing your job. Labels get misplaced from time to time, it just happens.” She took the package from him carefully and slid a slender finger gently under the tape to break it open. The ruffling of his feathers did not go unnoticed, but Kyrie kept her mouth closed about them. For a man who didn’t appear interested in fashion or models, he had certainly put a lot of work into those wings. But it would be rude to inquire about them when it was not a hidden fact the man just wanted to leave. A quick peek inside told her everything she needed to know and also lit up the room like a multi-colored disco ball as the light caught the multitude of genuine gemstones woven into the fabric. With a happy smile she tucked the package under her arm and sidestepped towards the wall, pen poised, to sign the papers. The click of the pen, treacherous inanimate object that it was, masked the clicking of the doors opening just down the hallway. For now the crowd poured into the hall in orderly fashion; hushed but excited tones kept to whispers.

“Thank you, I know it’s probably not in the protocol to do that but I really do appreciate…”

“It’s Kyrie!”

Her eyes went wide as she quickly moved her head to look around him. One enthused fan was pointing in their direction with one hand and covering their face in an attempt to contain the excitement with the other. “Oh no.” She whispered, paper-signing forgotten. She loved her fans, but Evett would not love the fans being so close to and so capable of stealing the gemstone garb that was in the poorly protected box. And then, there was always the winged man standing in front of her. If he didn’t like her to begin with, he was not doing to last five seconds lost in a sea of fans wanting pictures of he and his wings.

Without giving it a second though (like there was time, seeing as how the attentions of many had been shifted to their location and a small stampede was forming with cameras at the ready) she reached out to grab him by the wrist and turn to run back into the hallway they stood in front of. She just hoped the man didn’t fight her on this rough transition in motion…or that one of those fans would try to get a souvenir from his wings.

[Jaykobell]

Everything Kyrie did or said went right over the deliveryman's head. He was passively watching whatever was happening around them, although he showed a complete lack of interest in it. He just wanted this to be all over — she would get her package, he would go home. It was a win-win situation, so the sooner she got to check her package, the sooner he would get to go home. He couldn't wait for the day to be over and to finally be able to relax, all by himself, with nobody in his way or commenting about him or his job.

When he heard the click of the pen, he was starting to feel better, knowing his day would be over in a few seconds. Unfortunately for him, that certainly didn't happen; paying very little attention to Kyrie to begin with, his focus shifted to the fan who'd called out to the model, looking in her direction like a crazy fanboy. Well, now he certainly was glad that he had no interest in this whole thing, just looking at some of the fans of this show.

Signing forgotten, he eventually felt Kyrie yanking him by the wrist. Having his attention set elsewhere, he quickly found gravity working against him as his body was dragged about by the model. "H-Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" He didn't have much time to really react or struggle, due to his body currently trying to desperately regain its balance. It couldn't struggle and regain its balance at the same time, so sadly he would have to wait to struggle against this sudden move.

He wished he'd done so earlier, however, as he felt his wing being yanked the other way shortly after having Kyrie pulling him away by the wrist. With force being applied towards two different directions, it didn't take long for the weakest link to give way. Within seconds, the deliveryman found himself flapping his wing forcefully in an attempt to get the rabid fan off him, but that proved to be the worst thing to do.

Moments following his attempt to struggle against the fan while avoiding falling flat on his face from Kyrie pulling him away, he felt a burning, terrifying pain as the fan latching onto his wing ended up ripping off one of his primary feathers clean off. The deliveryman let out a blood-curdling scream as Kyrie and himself finally made their way safely across a safe point, where the fans could no longer try to latch onto them.

Once safe, the winged man, still hissing and making all sorts of pain-inspired noises, latched onto his wing as he applied pressure to the spot where one of his primaries had been mercilessly plucked out. Despite that, the blood kept oozing out of his wing, tainting the white feathers thankfully still attached. "Are you stupid?!" he yelled out to Kyrie as he continued to latch onto his wing, almost in a panic. "I can walk, run, and even freaking fly just fine!" His voice was high-pitched from the rage, but also from the pain he could feel from his bleeding wing. "If you had, oh, I don't know, said something, I probably wouldn't be bleeding a river!"

[Kallile]

Kyrie had felt the tugging, but she had kept going. Once fans latched on they were not going to let go—she figured the man’s highly specialized wings could be made up for later once both of them were safe. That didn’t seem to be the way that fate was going to have things play out, however. The scream pierced her ears and instinctively she squeezed his wrist a little to make sure she didn’t lose him. A glance behind her didn’t give her any better idea as to what was going on—hands, feathers, face…they all meshed together in one frenzied mess.

Once the security team had managed to form a human blockade Kyrie slowed and eventually let go of his arm. They were just outside the make-up area and the smell of powder lingered in the air. Now with only one body to focus on she cast a concerned glance over her shoulder to Cristobal and before a single word could escape her mouth he was yelling at her. She registered the blood but she didn’t know what to do; for a long moment the sleekly dressed model looked her stereotype and just stood there blankly. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her like that, but more importantly, that was real blood coming from a very real wing.

Slowly a hand came up to touch lightly at her face as the blank expression was replaced by a pained one. “Oh my…I’m so sorry….I thought they were just…” She sputtered around for a sentence but a full one never really formed. She had gotten him hurt; what kind of a person got a stranger hurt? Other faces began peeking from around curtain-barriers to see what all the fuss was about but Kyrie ignored them. “I never meant for that, there wasn’t time to say something. They would have done worse if you wouldn’t have been moving…” Her voice became meeker by the moment as did her heart with guilt.

Placing the package on a nearby table she quickly dabbed her fingers into a powder jaw and tried to approach him. “Let me help you…please.” What she really meant was ‘tell me anything at all I can do to make this right.’ “I never meant to you to be hurt, I was trying to keep you out of harm’s way.” She took another step towards him. Now from the background other models were beginning to see the blood and gasp or even gag at the sight of it.

“This can help stop the bleeding…or at least slow it down. It will help clot the surface. But it’s going to hurt.” Kyrie wanted nothing more than to move him off to a separate room where they wouldn’t be stared at and the poor deliveryman could actually relax and recover. But she highly doubted the man would follow her anywhere…not after what she had just let happen. A thousand “I’m sorry”’s wanted to pass over her lips but she held all of them at bay. If the man didn’t just storm back out into the crowd and disappear it would be a miracle.

[Jaykobell]

For a moment, the deliveryman wanted to just add more to the yelling and the indignation, getting that blank look from Kyrie despite bleeding actual blood from an actual wing. When she finally did speak, he was just as mystified, however, putting a hand over his face. "You thought they were just what?" he insisted, wondering what in the world the wings could look like if they didn't look real. "They're made out of living flesh, in case you didn't know," he clarified as he spread his good one and flapped it some, the wing just a little longer than his body height. "You know how it feels like getting a toenail ripped off? Yeah, well, imagine that and you've got what I'm going through right now," he explained, his words not giving any hint of dropping the anger any time soon.

He didn't even want to try to answer to Kyrie saying she hadn't had time to say anything or that she hadn't wanted him to get injured. Yeah, well, what was done was done, so her feeling guilty wouldn't do any good or change anything to his situation. For a moment, he figured she would just drop the whole thing about helping him, maybe mope some more, and then sign those papers so he could leave. He couldn't leave until those papers were signed. It mattered very little to the office if he came back with the package delivered; he needed proof that the delivery had been successful.

When Kyrie pushed the issue, though, and started walking towards him with that weird powder, he immediately took a step backwards. "Oh, you are not coming any closer to me," he warned as he spread his good wing over himself as a sort of shield. "I think I've had plenty of unfortunate events happen to me today alone. If you do want to help me, then sign the delivery papers and let me be on my way, and everyone will be happy." God only knew what kind of stuff they had in here, and he certainly wasn't about to find out. The faster he got out of here, the better.

[Kallile]

Kyrie was a little more than put off by his comment about the wings. She worked primarily in the fashion world…people at these shows always looked supernatural to some degree. And everyone loved a ‘sexy angel’ flaunting the latest trends. Fake wings around here were as common as dresses. But there wasn’t time or need to explain that right now—his temper was not improving and neither was her nagging guilt. “Does that matter what I thought they were anymore?” She replied quietly.

His recoil was met with a frown from the young model as she paused and studied the new defensive pose. Well, she had met people who would physically close themselves off by crossing their arms and such before, but this certainly put a new spin on things. She was a little baffled at how to react to the show and responded by rubbing a little of the powder onto her cheek. “It’s not going to hurt, it will help the wound clot.” At the ultimatum however there seemed to be no hope for making things right. Putting the powder container back on the table carefully, she looked to the papers and pen that now rested beside the box.

She could sign them and let him leave, sure. But if his wing was injured, she doubted he could use it to fly. And if that was in fact how he had gotten here that left either walking or catching a cab…both of which would lead him back through the masses outside that had ripped out the feather in the first place. Her fingers lingered over the pen as she weighed her options…and with a voice renewed in determination as she rose her gaze to meet his.

“I will sign your papers if you will let me bring you back to where you work. I got you hurt, and if it’s the one thing I can do to make up for it then let me just give you a ride back so you can rest and relax. You won't have to talk to me o look at me or do anything other than say 'drop me off here' if that's what you want...just let me do this for you. Please.” The look on her face showed little interest in taking ‘no’ for an answer as she stared at him sternly, still poised to sign the paper he so dearly wanted the moment he said yes.

[Jaykobell]

He was relieved when the model finally caught on and picked up the delivery papers, together with a pen to sign them. That was it; she would sign them, get her package officially delivered, and everyone would be happy. It was an easy concept and something simple to do. There was no reason for her to show some fake care that she wanted to help him or whatever.

Something was amidst, however, when Kyrie didn't end up signing the papers right away and instead focused her attention on him again. He was expecting her to keep on going on about how she felt bad for what had happened, or something along those lines. Maybe ask again if he were certain about not getting her help or whatnot. He was expecting something stupid like that — as if anybody really cared about what happened to him.

While her request was somewhat along those lines, they went far beyond just powdering him with some make-up product to stop the bleeding. "Just what's your problem?" he questioned bitterly as he grimaced at her. "The bleeding will stop on its own. What's your deal about making it up to me?" He could care less about how she felt or what she wanted to do; he highly doubted this was out of genuine care. "I don't appreciate when you try to look like you care when you honestly don't," the deliveryman continued, dropping his wing slightly away from him. "Just sign the damn papers and let me finish my day! We'll never meet again, so what does it matter to you what happens to me? What does it matter to you what happens to someone who's not even human?" It upset him more when people tried to care for him than when people insulted him or called him names because of the wings. He wished he could just storm off and away from this crazy place, but without the papers, his delivery wasn't complete. Until she signed the stupid papers, he couldn't leave.

[Kallile]

At first Kyrie couldn’t find words—her jaw just slacked and bobbed a little as she struggled to recover from the cruel accusations this man was throwing at her. If this first sentence wasn’t stinging enough, the small rant that followed certainly was. But Kyrie found herself making a turn she didn’t expect—one from shock to one of anger. The young woman was very rarely, if ever, mad. Things in life often sucked, yes, but there was no need to get heated about them. It never really had or did solve anything in the end.

But for that one shining moment, anger was all Kyrie could feel. She knew she had gotten him hurt, yes, she felt terrible about that. She knew she was making him angry; the fact was written all over his face whether he wanted it to be or not. But to accuse her of not even caring when she had done nothing but try to help him…

For a moment she considered screaming at the man like a true stereotypical model until she got her way and was able to drive him safely back to work. But what would that solve? He would still say she didn’t care and she would still be trapped in a car with him for who knows how long to even get to his destination. At this point, she couldn’t see that happening peacefully. What she could see happening was her vision going slightly blurry as a few tears brimmed in her eyes. No one had even told her she didn’t care before, and that was because she did care. She cared so much for other people and their feelings that it hurt.

In one motion she picked up the pen and paper and shoved it behind his still-shielding wing. Whether or not he caught them she didn’t really care. “You…will just have to find someone else to sign for this. You don’t want to accept my help then that’s fine. But when you insult me and my capacity to actually care about a person that I have gotten hurt…I’m not going to stand here and shout at you about it. What I am going to do is go and finish getting ready for this show and let you figure it out.”

With that Kyrie turned on her heels and walked off, taking a moment to brush the tears from her eyes. Sadly for Cristobal, he would find his one viable option had just walked away; every other able body to sign his precious papers was now in full show prep and had no time or desire for an ill-tempered deliveryman. In fact, some of them might just give the winged man a run for his money in terms of tempers.

[Jaykobell]

He figured Kyrie would just apologize, sign those papers, and finally put this whole thing to an end. It would be as simple and as quick as that.

When the woman did the exact opposite, however, the deliveryman had no idea how to react. He soon found himself with a crying model who just dumped the delivery papers and pen onto him — leaving him not enough time to catch them — and telling him that since she obviously didn't care, that she wouldn't sign the papers. He was bending over to gather the papers to make sure he had all of them still; if a single sheet of paper was missing when he got back to the post office, the delivery would still count as a failure.

And now he was stuck. He was still pissed at her. But now she didn't want to sign the papers. And she was also leaving. But if she didn't sign the papers, he couldn't leave.

FU—

What was he supposed to do now? He crunched the papers slightly in his hands as he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth with uncertainty and conflicting emotions. What. Was. He. Supposed. To. Do. He had no idea whatsoever, and if Kyrie didn't sign the papers—

Wait. If she didn't sign the papers, how could she even say that the package was hers? Technically-speaking, that package wasn't hers yet; not until the papers were signed to finalize the delivery.

That was all nice and dandy, but he couldn't just fly over her and grab the package from her hands. A flying human never really worked well in a building, and not to mention, one of his wings was currently out of commission.

Ugh. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. The only thing he could think of now was to try to cooperate with her and be... nice, or something like that.

Cringing both literally and figuratively, the deliveryman decided to go with that solitary option. "Hey, er... Wait," he called out, trying to keep his tone even, though some of his irritation was still showing through. "Okay, listen. I'm... Cristobal. I'm a deliveryman, and people call me a 'stork', because of the wings and all." He figured that introducing himself properly might loosen up her anger... hopefully. "I'm not... human, okay? You see the wings? Yeah, not human. People don't consider me human. Okay? Honestly, I won't go into my whole life story, I honestly doubt you'd ca... I doubt you would be... interested." If he accused her of not caring another time, he figured that would just be the end of it and he would never get out of this building. "People don't care about me and they never did. I don't know and you don't know me, so honestly I'm still not sure why you would even care to begin with." He sighed and handed the papers out towards her slightly, together with the pen, in a way that said "are we good now?" "Listen, if you do want to prove to me that you care, then sign the papers. My day's been bad enough, all I want is finish this one delivery so I can go home. Just sign these and I'll believe that you genuinely care about what happens to me." Not. But nothing she would say or do could convince him otherwise, so it didn't really matter either way.

[Kallile]

Inhaling deeply to try and regain her composure, Kyrie finally came to a stop and turned back around to face the deliveryman as he called out to her. She should just keep walking, she knew that, but she had to hope that maybe he wasn’t as bitter as he was acting. She watched him warily at first, expecting to be verbally lashed out at again for something that just simply wasn’t true about herself. When instead she was faced with an introduction her defenses dropped a little. Well, she hadn’t expected that.

She listened with patience as he told her what little facts he wished to, trying his best to be even toned and something close to nice. She could still hear the annoyance in his voice though, but it didn’t matter. Her feelings had been truly hurt by a stranger; worse than any sort of hurt from what she might chance to read about herself in a tabloid.

“I’m Kyrie.” She began softly, pretending not to notice the pen and papers being held closer and closer to her. “I’m sorry that you’ve been treated like that, but I don’t care if you are human or not. The point is that it’s my fault you’re hurt and if you can’t use that wing there aren’t many safe options for getting out of here with them. I care about what happens to you because I know these crowds and what they can be like. I just wanted to make sure it doesn’t happen again…I do care if you make it home safely or not.” She paused, looking at last to the pen he held out before removing it from his grasp gingerly.

“Just because this is my job doesn’t mean it’s who I am.” She said firmly, looking at Cristobal with eyes that threatened to start watering again. “I’m not some shallow child who doesn’t care for anyone but herself. I do this because it gets me closer to what I want out of my life.” She didn’t expect him to understand or even be curious, but she felt compelled to make that fact about herself abundantly clear.

“That ride home is still open if you want it…I won’t even be in the car if that’s what you want. Just…make it home safely and take care of your wing.” With a defeated sigh she finally touched pen to paper and signed her name before looking back up at Cristobal. “And for the record I hope this isn’t the only time we meet, I’d like to hear your story sometime.”