Slywitted
When
the infection starting creeping into her head, she felt it. It
surprised her; none of the files had indicated that with the right kind
of perception you could actually sense it.
She
tried to stop it, but found she could only slow it down, control its
spread. That gave her an idea, though. It was her unique brain structure
that gave her the abilities she had; so if she prevented the infection
from making any changes, and made it spread slowly enough…
They
didn’t notice that she was sick for three days, instead of the one that
the infection usually took. They’d left her with some other poor sods,
and kept moving people in to replace those that died. She was a special
case, of course, but they didn’t know that. Otherwise, they would have
killed her.
When
she slipped from life as she dosed, one of the guards wandered up. They
waited for the moment her changed eyes would flick open, the time when
the greater mind would strike and make her part of it.
But the first thing she did, coming into the necromantic unlife of a blackwing, was to smile.
This
scared not only the guard; but the group mind of the entire flock. The
woman stood up before him, and gently slid her wings out from her
clothes.
Such control, the
minds thought together, all struck by what was occurring. They couldn’t
even feel her mind; she was beyond their senses and control entirely.
She opened her eyes; and they were normal. She stretched out her fingers; and they had no black claws.
“I
only wanted the wings, you see,” she said, grinning at the blackwing
guard. Then she turned and ran right through the nearest window,
launching herself into the air and flying away.
The guard ran to the window and gazed out at her, as the greater mind tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened.
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