Log in

Airborne [entries|friends|calendar]
Warren "Angel" Worthington III

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[August 17th, 2003 @ 10:22PM]
[ mood | distressed ]

Bobby's outside tearing the wall apart, then the next thing you know he's telling me that he's really Emma, then he argues that he's not Emma he's Bobby who's not at fault for putting a nice dent in the hallway.

Then I get to understanding that my love interest is currently sharing the body of a popsicle with the popsicle. If that doesn't kill a guy's day, then I don't know that does.

Scott threw a fit over my missing a Danger Room session, which I'm sure is no comparision to the fit Emma's having right now. I have trouble being around Drake for even a few minutes and she's stuck with him for Lord knows how long. I'm praying this isn't permanent, for her sake and my own sake. And Drake's.


[August 11th, 2003 @ 9:50PM]
[ mood | predatory ]

Okay, I'm worried. No. Not worried. I'm beyond that. Maybe it's just defensive boyfriend stuff, but Emma's gone. Without a note, without telling me--or anyone else. I've done an aerial scan of the school's perimeters and still nothing.

Now to make matters worse Summers has me nailed for a Danger Room session in ten minutes. I'm hoping he wouldn't mind me cutting that. I can't stand to be locked in a staged fight with the Blob now. Not that I ever really enjoyed any fight with the Blob. Just looking at the fella is enough.

Scott, buddy, you'll just have to go ahead without me.


[July 30th, 2003 @ 6:12PM]
[ mood | calm ]

Not Quite a Fairy TaleCollapse )


Flights of Angels [July 27th, 2003 @ 6:42PM]
[ mood | tired ]

The outside sky's peace reflected that of the private jet's inner confinement. It was late to say the least, possibly even early the next day...the darkness shrowded any sign of time and for Warren that hardly mattered. His eyes fleeted downward to the silky lace that nested upon his shoulder, then to the smooth digits carefully clasped to his own hand. It wasn't a discussed leave from the school and fittingly the return trip was also a spur of the moment idea.

For all Warren's want...and need to release his focus from the daily trials of his time as an X-Man, it pulled at his conscience. Maybe more so that he'd left Scott behind after such an episode, several times he'd coaxed his mind into justification that Scott had Jean but the charm of that was wearing thin. A frown tugged at the invisible strings of Warren's lips. After every speech Scott made about teams and leaving no one behind, he'd up and left without consent of warning. Emma sensed it, there's just not getting anything by a telepath--and he knew better than to second guess that.

So as it goes, the jet hovered in to a clean landing at the local airport. Warren's hand gently slid from between Emma's fingers and stroked the outline of her cheek, barely whispering to her that they'd arrived. Her eyes fluttered open, though dowsed with sleep they still seemed to hold that sparkle of life and energy he'd grown to love about her. Even the night's embrace couldn't hide such things. A smile wavered across his expression as a ray of moonlight illuminated the soft contour of her face.

The institute was hardly an hour away, but for now the ride home in the waiting Mustang would suffice to ease any distraught nerves. Somehow she had that general effect and being in her presence alone was enough to make it to the next day. Above the sky's lightshow flickered as the mansion's silhoutte neared in the distance. Tomorrow Scott would have in for them both no doubt, but in that moment in time it seemed like no wrong could happen. Tomorrow she'd be there waiting from the morning's first light. Only a silent prayer clouded Warren's serene mind, that every tomorrow that would hold true until his dying day.

1 took flight |grounded

[July 17th, 2003 @ 2:21PM]
[ mood | cheerful ]

The Living Disaster is back. Welcome back, you terror.

Alright, alright, so I missed you and your stupid tricks around the mansion, but don't let that go to your head. It doesn't mean I'm going to sap up and let you off easy if I find any little pranks rigged in my room.

Oh and, Bobster, I figured restocking your junk food supply was as good as any get well gift. Even if it meant fighting Scott off.

If you ever black out on us again like that, I'll have to hurt you.

Elsewise, Emma...I'm thinking maybe a short leave from the mansion might do some good for both of us.

3 took flight |grounded

[July 6th, 2003 @ 10:48AM]
[ mood | groggy ]

You had better pull yourself together, kid. Who else is everyone going to pick on if you're gone, huh?

Hank broke the news to me yesterday when Scott took most of us aside to make some sort of conclusion about the events that have gone on. What gets me is that he seemed fine up until now--of course he was going under slowly, but weren't we all?

And Emma...God...if anything happened to her...

I should go I'm going to check up on her, maybe next time I write in things will have cleared up. Wishing thinking, isn't it?


Frustration. [June 30th, 2003 @ 5:53PM]
[ mood | worried ]

That's not even descriptive enough. Scott called the Danger Room session off claiming that I was putting everyone else in peril. Something about not focusing, I hardly remember it now. That seems the case for most things recently--had you asked me what I did yesterday, for the life of me, I couldn't say.

There's another itch. I've been having serious trouble maintaining the balance I need when I'm flying. Luckily enough, no one was there to see me nearly take an arm off just to avoid treetops. (And I swear Bobby, if I even hear one word about it...)

Bottom line? I'm grounded...in more ways than one. Seems to me that it's a mite shifty that everyone's been losing it lately. I'm sure the Professor, if anyone, is on top of the matter. That doesn't mean I won't worry. More so for Emma than myself, for her sake I'd like to see the end of this.


Come the Terrors of Night [June 22nd, 2003 @ 8:13PM]
[ mood | scared ]

A cool breeze whipped pleasantly across the contour of his face, far below the world was a colony of ants...quarreling amongst themselves without real purpose. Though barely in a blink's time grimey waves of clouds had lured themselves in, casting an endless shadow over the once sunlight domain. Down came a hail of rain, thick as a blanket, like pins on his wings. Intimidating wind tossed his helpless body back and forth as though a discarded rag doll. CRACK. With a well aimed lightening bolt, tore through flesh and bone--and retched the red-specked wings from their master. Leaving him with nothing more to do than fall, wind forcing itself unwelcomed down his throat and muffling out an otherwise deafening scream. Above...a mirthless laugh as cold and callous as the metal edge it carried across the howling wind and splintering rain. The ground became closer, evident to victim as his end drew nearer...a swirl of confusion laced with the pounding of his heart...

Warren jolted awake, his heart furiously pounding against his rib cage as he kicked free from his bed. It was only the wall that prevented him from fleeing any farther from his unseen enemy. Only with a twinge of pain from hitting the wall did he realize it was all just a nightmare. He let his head drop to his raised knee and drew his wings in as though a blanket. Closing his eyes, he remained fasten to the spot on the floor--trying to coax his nerves. A few feathers had wretched themselves loose in the panic, Warren reached a trembling hand down and fingered one. He blindly ran his fingers along it, wondering if the rest of the night might grant him the peace of sleep.


Somedays... [June 20th, 2003 @ 5:35PM]
[ mood | cold ]


Just flat-out get a guy down. I honestly meant it: that I was trying to let go of all that emotional luggage as I told Emma just the other day. Of course it's never so easy. Never is, never will be. So to abridge a novel, the same jerk that ripped the ground from under me decides to run a one man pity show. He writes me an award winning sob story that he didn't really mean to kill anyone while he was murdering them. Forgive my inability to relate to the man, and perhaas even my callousness in setting that blamed paper ablaze. His eyes won't ever see anything past values; I'll bet it's just a pathetic attempt at claiming his small share of my parent's wealth.

There's more I could say on that matter, but I did promise Emma...

It's funny in a way: how I never realized a simple convenant would unwind some of the seams my life's stitched. Now I only need to learn to let the thread go.


[June 16th, 2003 @ 7:48PM]
[ mood | relaxed ]

Considering my life up until this point...

Well, let's just say I've lost a little too much for someone my age, shall we? I don't mean to be an overprotective jerk when it comes to something I love. I'm just a little afraid to lose her. Everything was a blast chasing after girls, running from screaming fans...

Alright, maybe not so much the second. Let me have my comforts, will you?

But when you finally find someone, that loses a bit of its luster. I'm going to hold on to her. This time no one's going to steal the life from under me.

I'm considering possibly arrangements to have Bobby shipped to Antarctica, also. Geeze, man, you are like a plague.


Night's Symphony [June 14th, 2003 @ 4:07PM]
[ mood | calm ]

A chilled breeze winded in through the open balcony doors of Warren's suite, trailing the contour of his room until finding place under the white sheet that had been scattered about across his bed. The white folds rippled, but the bed...empty. It was an unrestful night to say the least, they came every so often give or take a nightmare. This instance hardly fit that "waking up in a cold sweat" description, it more or less the fact that such a serene night was so rare lately. To sleep it away seemed sinful in Warren's mind.

Another breeze swept in, Warren closing his eyes, feeling that familiar touch, leaned farther out on the balcony. It tickled his feathers in a pleasant way, something not many would understand save the birds. If the birds could truly understand it at all. His eyes flickered open as the air silenced once more and all that sounded was the chorus of crickets, the night's symphony. Above was a clear night, each star pointedly visible--it was all so calming. So easy to get lost into. He was sure tomorrow would bring new stresses, but for now...don't think, don't speak, don't worry. There's always calm before a storm.


Well, it figures. [June 11th, 2003 @ 7:36PM]
[ mood | annoyed ]

Of course only when I arrive back at the school with Emma does a certain popsicle decide to fall down half the stairs and rain down upon us his Coke.

Bobby, you're an idiot.

6 took flight |grounded

To quote an old song... [June 6th, 2003 @ 6:30PM]
[ mood | sick ]

"Mama said there'd be days like this."

I'm not so sure it applies to what I've got on my mind, but it certainly fits anyhow. Okay, okay, I'm nailed. I learned my lesson. My liver bailed on me last night along with just about everything else I've got stomach-wise, I don't blame it, honestly. I don't blame Scottie either, actually--but I feel it's my duty to blame him for something. Worsening my headache in any case.

Piotr, you my friend, are a lifesaver.

And Emma...uhm...sorry about everything. I'll make it up to you, just you name the (Bobby-less) punishment.

5 took flight |grounded

Thre's one obviuus thibng. [June 5th, 2003 @ 8:51PM]
[ mood | indifferent ]

Scott's never ahd to lkisten to himslf yak onn with those lecturses of life and all such thiangs in realation to liff.

pardon the typosd,. Ive gota legitimate excusae for tthem--ill fix this entery later. when i cn teell apart my u's from my y's,atleast.

2 took flight |grounded

[ viewing | most recent entries ]