quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it?

The shadows were thick -- almost as if they were a living, breathing entity all their own. The branches overhead swayed and creaked, adding to the eerie ambiance of the night. A sigh parted from Regan's lips. A quiet gesture that was swept away by the wind before the world even registered she made a sound.

There is a silent quality about Central Park at night that eases a weary soul. Sure, there are dangers to be found in the darkness and yet Regan cannot bring herself to care. Or wont. The difference between the two matters very little. Silently, Regan palms her custom butterfly knives -- swirling a blade within each hand. They are an extension of her self; dancing and twirling upon her palms. One would think them beautiful, as Regan did, if not for the dangerous and deadly gleam of the moonlight reflecting off the cold metal surface.

She smiles but the gesture is lost in the night.

Soon enough, Regan makes it to her destination unharmed. Though internally she scoffs at the idea of being attacked. There was just something about the small and silent girl that radiated danger. Perhaps it was the way she moved; like a panther on the prowl. Or, perhaps more likely, it is the cold and detached look in her hazel eyes that spoke of something far more dangerous.

However, that is not the point. We have gotten a bit off topic. Regan has spotted the large tree on the outskirts of the park. She shifts into an easy jog, closing and sliding her blades back into their holsters on her forearms with practiced ease. In one swift move, she grabs the lowest hanging branch and plants her foot firmly on the base of the tree. From there, she swings herself up and into the branches, landing in a crouch on one of the higher limbs. Once there, she settles her back against the trunk; pulling her knees up against her chest. Her eyes slide shut of their own accord.

A few hours later and Regan is still within her perch. Eyes opening slowly as light filters in beneath her lids. Her eyes lift up to the horizon, watching in silence as the sun crested over the Park and painted the world in brilliant, vibrant colours. Yet like most things in Regan's life, the moment is fleeting. Reality sets in and soon enough, it's just another sunrise and the magic is lost.

R E G A N

chi manipulation - single - 20 years - weretiger - played by megs

that's what it is to be a slave