"Bradley."
Their voices are soft barely registering above a whisper to his ears so he ignores them, closing his eyes and feeling his wings ache and he reaches a hand back to try and smooth the feathers down and it comes back coated with ash and bits of burned feathers but his eyes are closed so he doesn't see that. All he sees are the flames licking at his body the bright redorangeyellow colors flashing in his eyes and he flaps his wings, shuddering.
"Bradley."
Their voices are louder but he still doesn't care, finally opening his eyes and looking around in panic. The flames flickering behind his eyes die out and another shudder racks his body, sending even more burnt feathers to the floor.
"Bradley."
Their voices are deafening now and he tries to fly away because they hurt the voices hurt so much so much and the flames are dancing at his feet, working its way up his legs but he can't move his wings and he claws at them, struggling to get the thick leather straps off but it's no use.
"Bradley!"
Their voices are agitated and there are hands grabbing his own and he nearly screams, thrashing his wings against the straps and finally finally finally he gets free but those hands are still gripping his wrists and he frowns, aiming a kick at the hands holding him. The hands flinch but don't let go and he tries to jerk his wrists away. But they're still there and their voices have gotten even softer now, feathersoft and sweet and he levels a glare at them.
"Brad...."
His wings are beating faster now, and the hands clutching him slip from the wind and their voices cry out and he looks down in confusion, tilting his head.
"Fuck, Brad. Just just fuck it. Fine stay here. See if I give a shit. Fucking nurses never mentioned this," their voices snarl, yanking their hands away and he flinches, a small soft chirp escaping his throat.
Their voices pause. "What hurts?"
More soft raspy chirps and their hands are holding him now, gently easing him down onto solid ground.
"Everything, huh?"
He nods, chirruping and gripping their shirt when he gets down on the ground.
Their hands are holding him now and he leans his head against their shoulder. He chirps again, softly.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, you. Let me get a nurse and we can get you out of here."
---
He winces

Meet Broderick ["tall and wide-shouldered, tan, toned, and athletic"] Hyatt

And Jason Schumaker- well, Jason's rather bookish and shy and just generally a ball of adorable.
Broderick enjoys this. Immensely.
[mmm, snuggles.]

But this one's female!

Jacqueline Stockard. But everyone [including herself] calls her Jake.

And she's Winged by a canary [poss.].

And we've got a Vet Winged too. Bradley Levant [winged by a European Kestrel.

Jasper groans. stretching out in his chair and groping around for his mug. "Damn piece of shit," he hisses, opening his eyes and looking around the messy study area. He growls, shoving a stack of papers to the floor and diving under his desk, still searching for the mug. It wasn't a particularly good mug anymore, having been dropped on the floor enough that its formerly bright orange exterior was now full of scuff marks.

Meet Jasper "Jasp" Harte. He's a English doctoral student, also teaching English 101/Queer History [237], he's pale pasty and wears nothing but hoodies and leather gloves, he enjoys drinking the occasional chocolate shake. Oh, and he's a vampire.
[turned during a summer trip to Romania his sophomore undergrad year]



( The rest of his resumé: )
And also he has fangs-but they're little ones.
And he hates Twlight with a passion. Mostly 'cause he keeps getting undergrads in his classes that want him to be their 'Edward'.
[he tells them, "I already have an 'Alice'" (technically an 'Alan' well, a Daneal "Dane") it doesn't work.]

Emery's washing dishes [pitiful, he thinks to himself. I'm playing the housewife again.] when Darton comes into their kitchen, wraps his arms around him, and kisses his neck. Emery looks up, hands covered in soapy water and he pauses, wary. "You're leaving me, aren't you?"
A nuzzle and a whispered "no" are the only answers he gets. Emery turns around, wiping his hands off on his pants and laying them on Darton's hips.
"Well, then? What is it?"
"My parents had drug deals going on in the 70s. That's why I had to leave."
Of all the things that have ever come out of Darton's mouth, that was one of the last things Emery ever thought the brunet would say.
"Oh?"
"It's true. I can get you articles-they were convicted in the 90s; their dealer was caught and he gave 'em up. They died a couple years ago. Left me a little bit of pocket change." Emery pauses at this, remembering Darton's usual definition of 'pocket change'- a couple grand, maybe a few hundreds thrown in for variety. Emery had held it up in the light, marveled at it and ran his fingers over it. "Dart?" he had whispered, still staring at the bill. "Is it real?" Dart had laughed and dragged Emery into his lap, kissed his cheek. "'Course it is, Em. My mother wouldn't dare send me counterfeit bills."
She wouldn't send him counterfeit bills-but her clients? Of course.

The DK has another 'staff' member: meet Loren-a second-year law student (and her gf- Sorcha). Why a law student? Because The DK's real motto is "libel. and lots of it."

We shall.

Everybody meet Jude Page [major: Classics.] He has wings. And a great big tattoo of a Sun Conure on his back-minus the wings because they're already there. And he smokes. And he's got the cutest face. And his father's French. And he's all short and hyper and bite-y.
But Lionel doesn't mind. Much. [Unless Lionel's working. major: English-creative writing/minor: Celtic Studies- religion. Why yes, he's writing a novel. Heh.]

As are most of my English majors.

Non-Winged- Russel -ROTC Army. John- Russel's boyfriend. major overprotective.

Tomás closes his eyes, his hands resting over the plastic-covered Bible on the desk, the burns showing starkly against the smooth white cover. His mind fills with words, ancient frayed Latin, the swirls of Hebrew, the crisp clean lines of English, the words tumbling around, turning into pages licked by flames. The fire grows bigger and bigger, the colors swirling around and Tomás opens his eyes to see fire flickering on his fingers. "Damn it," he mutters, grateful that Elise isn't home. He pauses, watching the flames flicker in front of his eyes, watching the flames jump from fingertip to fingertip. "Thank God, Lily's not here," he murmurs, closing his hand and keeping the flame enclosed within his palm.
Tomás sighs, getting rid of the flame and opening up the leatherbound book.

[because every college town has a ton of college bands]

Besides the aforementioned Fourth-Rate Rats, Kendaltown also has:

Murphy Knives- acoustic punk. their one hit song- "Hershey's Hugs, Kisses, and [Black Eyes]" Lead singer- Atticus Hank Cromwell- pre-law [boyfriend (baseball player for WVU) Daniel Summers-education major]

Fairline- metal

Linkback- rock

Gürgaletsch- German/Swiss folk songs [called 'Gurg']

All of whose members have been in five other bands and who will be in five other bands once these disband. Once these disband the names are retired and written on a large scroll in the biggest bar/club/live music venue in town- The Cool Gator- the Gate for short

[Dr. Trockil- Buzz. hummingbird Winged one. Bio professor. teaches course about Winged ones. sucks down coffee like it's nectar.]

Callum presses against Fay's chest, smoky gray wings wrapping around the two and Fay blinks in surprise. Then he lays a hand on the middle of his back, gripping the silky smooth fabric. "Callum," he murmurs, the other hand resting in the soft silver hair. "You all right?"
Callum chirps angrily, a volley of whistles coming out of his mouth before he sighs and burrows deeper into Fay's shoulder. Fay pauses,trying to parcel out the whistles. "Think you could say that a little slower, Cal?"
softer whistle into his ear, up down trailing off, and Fay chuckles. "No need to apologize, baby."
Callum briefly lifts his head from Fay's shoulder and glares at him. Fay smiles, nudging him. "Come on Tweety bird," he says, flopping down on the couch and watching Callum settle himself, draping his body over Fay's, wings open and drooping. Another smile and Fay's arms come around to rest at the top of Callum's wings. Callum's yes close and he purrs in pleasure. Fay grins, running his hands along Callum's spine, feeling the thick muscles around his wings.
"So," fay starts, hands still probing around the muscles, a limp and languid Callum in his lap. "What happened? And before you answer, I want words this time."
Callum sighs, craning his neck up to look up at the brunet. A low whistle escapes his mouth and Fay grins, ruffling his hair.
"I am not a-what was that? Nosybeak?"
A short whistle and Callum nods, grinning.
"What happened?"
A series of whistles-sharp short long soft-hits him and Fay briefly wonders where the aspirin is before Callum clamps his hands over his mouth.
"Sorry," he stammers out.
Fay chuckles, squeezing Callum's shoulder. "S'good to hear your voice, baby."
Callum rolls his eyes, a low whistle under his breath.
Fay blinks, grinning at him. "A romantic fool I may be, Cally, but you love me anyway. So what happened today that got you all worked up?"
"Never gonna let that drop?"
"Nope. Tell." And Fay laughs when Callum's wings fluff up, the feathers rustling.
"Fine," Callum mutters into his shoulder. "People are fucking stupid. Especially in our classes. Dumb asses still think these-" He pauses, reaching a hand back to try and smooth down his feathers. "-are fake," he finishes. "One of the idiots tried to pull one off. I decked 'im."
Fay sighs, gently swatting Callum's hands away and smoothing down the feathers, humming. "Cal..."
The winged sighs in pleasure. "Hmm?"
"You hit him?"
Callum stretches, craning his back up. "Well, yeah. What else was I gonna do? Say 'hey no stop. that hurts like fucking hell?'"
"Did you hurt him?"
"Little to the left. And just what he deserved. Fucking idiot."
Fay nuzzles him, kissing the back of his neck. "Cal, one of these days, that temper of yours is gonna get you in trouble." Another nuzzle. "And I may not be around to help you out of it."

Draw Blood has wererats. Only two. And they're stepbrothers [possibly secretly fucking stepbrothers]. And here they are!

Tolman Edwards -dark haired brunet, kinda pudgy

Nash Johnson- blond, scrappy, had leukemia as a kid but is now in remission


Also, they have bat!people. Like the winged ones, except the bat!people have bat ears and nails like claws and pointy teeth. And one of them is Marlin Ambrose Stellun. He is awesome and has thick-ass Coke-bottle glasses. Also his boyfriend (Arthur Fremont) is technically a flying fox-which enables him to have a larger wingspan body et c..
Marlin double-majors in Biology/English with a minor in Classics. And he has shaggy dark brown hair and his fingers/claws are always covered in ink and he's stick-skinny [high bat metabolism].

Arthur majors in Poli Sci with a minor in history.

Meet Josh and Sam. One's Poli Sci major, the other's a Philosphy major. Oh, and they room together. [are they fucking? most likely]

Emil had a deep blue feather in his hands and he was rubbing it up and down up and down on his palms, the sharp end jabbing into pale skin as the words fell from his mouth. "I was only about six or seven-or was it three or four-whichever and Candido"-he doesn't get that horrible awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, that sickening cold feeling that starts in his belly and works its way down to his toes and then back, he doesn't get that anymore saying his brother's name-"And Cand was probably ten or twelve, I just remember that he was older than I was by several years and he would babysit me and-" He pauses again, swallowing and plucking another feather off the ground. "-He would babysit me and we would-I don't-it's hard to-I'm not sure-he would do stuff to me. I was probably too young to even know but the the feeling I guess was still there-that sickening feeling that what we were doing was wrong wrong wrong! and I guess I was just enough or something to rationalize it as just something brothers did, you know to show their love-" Another pause and he picks up a third feather, running his hands along them and over the tips again and again. -"And I guess it didn't get really bad-stupid thing to say really it had always been bad- but I guess it didn't get bad bad until I guess maybe April? Yeah it was April because when the policeman pulled me out of class, I was wearing my favorite T-shirt-it was red with a picture of a triceratops on it I think I lost that afterward. And it was April and I remember walking to the office terrified I was going to go to jail because I had shoved Jack during recess to get to the swings." A small chuckle slips out and a feather falls to the floor and he continues. "Boy was I wrong. I think the trial was the worst part really. After I got back to school no one would talk to me. Not even Jack-then again he only really talked to Dave. I suppose Cand had that effect on people."


[why do they all have such shitty lives? Emery's an orphan [and let's not even mention the fire that killed nearlu everybody else] jem's a werewolf who murders people, and now Emil's been molested. I think maybe there's something wrong with me. rough Latin translation- To love is to be pure but to hate is to be divine]

The Daily Kendaltown
official motto- 'there is no pursuit greater than that of knowledge."

Abigail "Gail" Sivney- Editor in chief

Spencer Reade-head reporter #1/2. red head.

Mark Hartwell- head reporter #2/1. black hair

^^Spencer and Mark have kind of a thing going. No one's really sure what to call it, other than angry late night sex in the office and drunken cuddling.

Jason Zale-sports/politics. black hair. SGA prez. dating Ben Dailey (advertising major).
-Justin Zale [went by surname Curtis (actually his middle name)]- ^ older brother, also did sports. blond long and wavy. legend.

Emil Greyson-'style'

Johan Quinby- "foreign correspondent". winged one. has a tattoo of an indigo bunting on his chest. dating Emil.

Lindon Sivney- frosh!

Fay Weissman - we know this one, don't we? [had to tie them in somehow, poor Fay. One trainwreck to another]

Hee! Winged ones.

A lot of the insults, крылья [romanization kryl'ya] shortened to kryl, are Russian or related to Russia/former Soviet Union just 'cause that's how the majority of people know about them. Another insult-redwing.

There are a few winged one societies-though most just tend to find it easier to blend in with everyone else. Usual dress is to just wear backless shirts/halter tops -tied up in the back around the neck-to not hinder the wings though some winged ones just wear loose flowing shirts, kaftans [russia!] or [for some] saris.

The younger winged ones [18-26] often get tattoos, either to feel closer to their wingedness or to emphasize it i.e: getting tattoos just above/below or around the wings-though for those they have to go to a specialist-there's one in nearly every major city [one in K-town- Ava] (Callum's got a chest tattoo- pseudo-tribal/gothic curls). Most tats are tribal-like [thick wavy lines and such] or celtic though most get a specific bird done -usually on/near their chest and usually what bird their wings resemble most. F'rinstance, Callum could get a dove tattooed on himself because his wings most resemble a dove's.
Other times, particularly those with lighter-colored wings will dye either the whole feather or the tips with berry-juice/kool-aid. Some more adventurous ones use watercolors.

The older winged ones don't bother much although quite a bit have adopted the getting a tat of the bird whose wings resemble yours.

"And P.S. if this is Austin Em, I still love you"

Emery mumbles in his sleep, turning over to bury his face into the warm body beside him and tosses an arm around Dart's also sleeping form and his eyes fly open when he can't feel that warmth. "Dart?" he cries out, voice sounding scared and young in the darkness. "Dart?" His voice is getting the accent back but he doesn't care 'cause Dart's gone gone just like that and he's having trouble breathing and, still gasping, he runs to the light switch, almost tripping over a shirt and his breath hitches in his throat because there's light flooding their, or maybe it's his now Emery's not really sure, room and Dart's not there and a whimper escapes the brunet's throat and he wrenches open the bedroom door and tears down the hall. "Dart? Dart? Dart, please, please. Just just come back. Please." He's gone through every room in their apartment and no sign of Dart. Defeated, shaking and with a few tears still making their way down his face, Emery walks back into the bedroom, picking up the shirt he had almost tripped on, smiling faintly when he realizes it's one of Dart's. The brunet climbs back into bed, the shirt wrapped around his small still shaking frame and falls back into a restless lonely sleep.

[or Callum gets a little snippet of his own]

The baby was born on a Friday, fittingly enough one supposes though more for his parents. Born squalling and pink, he was a mess of blood afterbirth and yes, yes those were little nubs on the back of the babe's shoulder blades, little nubs covered in a soft down of "Feathers?" the doctor exclaimed-Dr. Brantan, a respectable man. Oh he had heard of it yes, of course. In those days, the government was terrified the Soviets would invade with their bombs and nuclear missiles and strange winged humans and as a result the medicals had been innuduated with classes about the winged ones. Dr. Brantan had even seen one before- a Soviet who had defected, his large black wings ragged and flapping slowly in the courtyard. Mihkael, that was his name, the doctor thinks, staring down at the babe in his arms, its blue eyes scrunched up and the downy soft wings fluttering uselessly. I hope you fare better than he did, child. With a sigh he carried the child into his mother's room and presented him to her.
"Your son," Dr. Brantan intoned, watching Mrs. Brady handle her son, the [not new after three other children but still, he mused. Every birth was almost like the first.]before walking out. The mother gingerly examining the down-covered nubs on her new son's back.
"Wings, Riona?" her husband asked.
She nods, the babe in her arms fast asleep after a meal. "Yes, Lugh. Wings," Riona Brady whispers, clutching the boy tight against her. "What shall we name him, Lugh? Perhaps one of the names your schoolmates taunted you with?"
Lugh massaged his temples, watching his new son's wings curl around him. "I don't know Riona. Do you have a suggestion?"
She looks down at the boy in her arms, down a soft shade of white. "Callum."


[[other Brady children: oldest-Hunter son, next-Zared son, youngest before Callum-Daya girl]]

because I need to write this down before I forget.

Callum is some parts angel.

Also, plague among the fantastical folk [jem, damien, tomas, callum, et c.]

So Gentry's family breeds ponies. But because this is an urban fantasy, they are special ponies.

( this is their main stud pony Odin's Revenge )

( this is their main breder pony Fridwulfin )

Housing-

on-campus
Hazelton Hall
Nicol Hall
a collection of buildings Cian Tower, Kellen Tower, Sennet Tower, Shannon Tower



off-campus
Suncrest Apartments
The Ledge -Ledging Heights Apartments-


Schooling-
Ennis J. Buford School of Journalism
Sefton Hall