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Apr 11th, 2015
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  1. http://pastebin.com/U8WD5yzv character sheet and dialogue from much later in Moira's story
  2.  
  3. Day 9. 3:06 AM.
  4.  
  5. The storefront window exploded into a shower of broken glass as a burning javelin flew through it and started to burn into the wall inside. An alarm instantly started to ring, and lights turned on up and down the deserted night street.
  6.  
  7. The girl who'd thrown it didn't seem to care. She was tall, striking, with sharp features that could have been sculpted from marble if they hadn't been singed and covered in soot. Her shoulder-length blonde hair seemed to catch and amplify the light from the street lamp as she sprinted across the street with inhuman speed. There was a frantic, frenzied look in her aquamarine eyes as she ran, and her white-gold costume was singed and torn, cloth swirling around her as she moved. A long, partially healed red line across her forehead and a streak of caked blood attested to a near-encounter with something very sharp. She had a lost, confused look to her.
  8.  
  9. The most notable things about her, however, were the pair of silvery wings, almost as long as her arms, that rose from her back. Seemingly feather-like at a glance, a closer look suggested something almost polished or crystalline about the way they shone. They were almost like clockwork in the way they moved with the girl's gestures, whirring gently with a sound like a cross between a wind chime and a clock ticking as they shifted sluggishly. Right now, those wings were wrapped protectively around her like a shawl or cloak as she reached the curb and vaulted, wingtips first, through the hole in the window.
  10.  
  11. The alarm was still blaring as she scrambled past the rows of produce. She knew she didn't have much time, especially with the alarm going off, and already regretted her choice, but it was too late now. She sighed and added it to the ever-growing list of poor life choices she made lately, starting with "not paying attention to the road at night" and going from there. She'd been doing a lot of things she'd never have thought about before this week, and this wasn't even in the top ten.
  12.  
  13. One of her wings brushed into a stand as her attention wandered, causing it to fall over and spill baked goods all over the floor.
  14.  
  15. "Shit!" She hissed, quietly, pulling her wings back to her. She didn't like speaking much now, except when she had to. She'd never liked the sound of her own voice before, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that it wasn't her voice at all.
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  17. The wings were something else she was sure she'd never get used to. It was like having another pair of arms on your back, if arms had a mind of their own, didn't always move the way you wanted them to, and kept getting in the way. It'd taken her almost as long to get somewhat used to them as it had to all the rest of it put together, including the body. They were a reminder of just what she wasn't anymore, even more than all the rest. She wasn't supposed to have wings growing out of her back, let alone everything else.
  18.  
  19. The winged girl shook her head, irritably, and got to work. A glowing, flickering aura flickered to life around her as she searched, her wings twitching slightly. Canned food. She had to grab some canned food and whatever else she could, then get out of here before trouble found her. Her breathing was short, fast, and ragged. She'd been running for over two days now, not daring to stop and sleep for long. Before she'd been changed, she hadn't been one for catnaps, but near-death experiences were a wonderful motivator to learn. She hadn't seen that Eythor guy since he'd disappeared a few days back. She was all alone again and trying to survive in a way she had no experience with. She knew for a fact her body could keep going for a lot longer than she'd been running so far. She just hoped she could keep it up for longer than the girls chasing her could, or at least until the sun rose and she could actually fight back.
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  21. These girls were the worst ones she'd run into in the eight days since this whole nightmare'd started. For starters they weren't alone. For another, they didn't seem to want to say anything, not even to call her a monster like the other two had. They just seemed to want her dead, preferably as painfully and messily as possible. She'd taken the hint and ran when they'd jumped her coming out of the hotel room she'd managed to sneak into through the window. There were three of them. A fire user that looked like she'd just wrapped some bandages around herself and called it a day, a tiny spiky-haired imp who liked to throw icicles, and a hooded girl dressed in black that gave her the creeps even if she looked like they were trying and failing to go for a goth look. It'd almost have been funny if she hadn't been wearing something that wasn't so different and if they hadn't been trying to kill her. She still wasn't used to the idea of being on someone's hitlist.
  22.  
  23. She'd already wondered to herself if this was some kind of sick joke or karma for not paying attention to the road that night. She'd never been one for believing in divine punishment, but considering what'd happened to her, she was definitely more open to the idea than she'd used to be.
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  25. She finally found the aisle, and grabbed what she could, her magic acting as a flashlight in the gloom as she filled up her backpack, ignoring the shriek of the alarms. One label caught her eye. The last can. Canned tuna. For some reason, that brought back a flash of memory, and a small but sincere smile tugged its way onto her features. She'd loved the stuff as a kid. An actual kid and not some winged freak of magic in a body that wasn't hers with powers she didn't understand and a head full of fuzzy memories that felt like scrambled eggs whenever she tried to think too hard about anything from before.
  26.  
  27. As far as victories went, a can of tuna was a small one, but she'd take it.
  28.  
  29. Moira shoved the last can into her bag and kept running.
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