Chapter Text
TW for whole fic: Blood, wing injury, bone injury
A sigh escaped a scruffy-haired man as he traversed through the dense green woods. He grumbled in annoyance as he pulled some broken twigs and leaves out of his large black wings behind him, the messy feathers catching every thorn and bramble. He let out a frustrated huff as he shoved past a tree, pushing the branch out of the way, only to stagger back with a yell as the branch came flying back, hitting him in square the face.
“Damnit…” Scarecrow hissed, rubbing his forehead where he knew a small cut was, as he had faint traces of smeared blood on his hand. He sighed again, glancing up to the treetop canopy above. He saw sunlight and clouds breaking through the shimmering leaves, and beyond them…wide open sky.
He could fly. He could fly…he…could…
Staring at the break in the canopy, Scarecrow felt himself open his wings slightly, the breeze feeling nice through his black feathers. He took in a breath, almost mesmerized as the wind blew around him. He…missed it…
His eyes wide, he reached a hand up towards the sun, his wings opening more. He raised them, about to flap down when he screamed, a vison of fire and smoke appearing before him as the feeling of falling took over, the scent of burnt feathers strong.
Scarecrow staggered back, closing his wings again as he groaned, his hands covering his face. He…couldn’t…
He couldn’t…
A tear appearing in his eye, he hissed through his teeth and wiped it away with a fist, not daring let it fall. He wasn’t weak. He just…would walk.
He would just walk.
Sighing for the final time, he pushed on, shaking thoughts of the clouds and sunlight out of his mind. He didn’t like the light anyway. He preferred the dark. He preferred the isolation of the ground. He didn’t need to fly.
He was fine.
Carrying on towards the cave he had made into a home, Scarecrow walked in silence. Occasionally he would brush some bramble off his black tunic, though the thing was ratty and old already. He hadn’t gone into the city to get a new one. He just…didn’t like people.
They’d always ask him why he walked…
Shaking his head again, he pushed through more bushes, though he froze when he heard faint voices ahead. The winged man stayed low, his curiosity catching hold. He edged around a wide tree, his heart stopping when he saw the scene before him.
In a small clearing, he saw two elves, both clad in black.
“Damn Tower followers…” Scarecrow hissed, starring daggers at the two traitors of Avantasia. His anger was short lived, however, when he saw what they were standing before. Or rather…who.
On the ground before them, tangled in a black net, was another winged human. One who…looked like him…
Only instead of scruffy shorter hair, this one had long darker brown hair. He was wearing a longer white robe-like tunic, and he had a look of absolute terror in his eyes. He looked young…
“P-please!” The other winged human cried through tears, unable to move due to how tight the net was. His arms were pinned to his side, and his legs had rope around them. His wings, which were quite large and fluffy, both white in color with warm brown splotches, were strained under the net, the feathers poking out painfully between the gaps. He was struggling in the net, though he couldn’t move enough to break free.
“God, he won’t shut up…gag him!” The first elf said, earning a snicker from the second. The other then leaned down, and Scarecrow flinched when he grabbed a fistful of the younger man’s hair, holding his head back.
“N-no! Please, let me g-aghn!” The man cried, letting out a terrified cry as a cloth was shoved into his mouth and tied around the back of his head. Scarecrow felt his hands form into fists, a rage sparking in his chest. This man was scared…
“You really thought you could get away with that, huh?” The first elf said smugly, walking closer to the tangled mess of feathers under the net. “Pathetic…”
“What should we do to this traitor?” The second elf said slyly, crossing his arms as the younger man let out a fearful whimper. The first elf smiled wider, malice in his eyes.
“Let’s teach him actions have consequences…he took away our freedom…we take away his…” The elf said, and Scarecrow’s eyes widened when he saw him grab a fistful of the white feathers under the net.
With a sick laugh, the elf yanked, and the younger man trapped jerked beneath the net with a muffled scream of agonizing pain, more tears in his eyes. Scarecrow saw a clump of feathers in the elf’s hand.
“You did this to yourself, traitor…” The second elf spat, quickly yanking a larger clump of feathers out of the poor man’s wing. The man screamed again, though it was muted by the cloth in his mouth. He was still jerking under the tight net, unable to free himself.
Scarecrow was frozen. These were Tower followers. He eyed them both and saw each of them had two daggers on each of their belts. They were armed and they were relentless. If Scarecrow got involved…they’d kill him. And if he escaped…they’d track him down. He’d be on the run forever.
“Geez, twitchy little thing, isn’t he?” The second elf said with a laugh, shoving the soft feathers into his satchel. The younger man was thrashing more under the net, sobbing and gasping for air through the gag. The first elf nodded, a wicked smile on his face.
“I say we help him learn to hold still…” He said, and before Scarecrow could even think, the first elf raised his foot and slammed it down onto the flattened wing of the younger man, a sickening crack ringing through the air.
Scarecrow threw his hand to his mouth, a sick feeling arising in his stomach. The man on the ground screamed again, his voice strained but muffled. He thrashed again, though the second elf did the same as the first to his other wing, stomping down and holding his foot there as more grotesque cracks echoed in Scarecrow’s ears. The man on the ground had his eyes squeezed shut as he thrashed, his sobs breaking Scarecrow’s heart.
“Why don’t we take the big feathers out? He’ll never be able to fly again…” The first elf said wickedly, laughing as he grabbed the largest of the man’s feathers with a tight fist. Scarecrow saw the younger man start to hyperventilate and panic more, thrashing again, though the second elf was still holding him in place by standing on his wing.
“Sounds like a plan…” He said, reaching down as well as he grabbed the biggest feathers in his hands.
Scarecrow stood back, the fire in his chest igniting to an inferno.
Never be able to fly again…
He closed his eyes, his options swarming his mind like a hurricane. He could still hear the man’s cries of terror echo through the woods. He was scared and alone. Just like Scarecrow…always was. No one ever helped him. And he suffered because of it.
Scarecrow opened his sharp eyes, baring his teeth into a snarl as he clenched his fists. He saw himself, hurt and suffering in the smoke-covered black wastelands. Calling for help that never came. His wings broken and burnt…his scared cries breaking apart as he choked on the smoke.
All alone. Alone and scared with no one to comfort him or help him.
His mind made up, Scarecrow took a firm step forward as he reached into his satchel, pulling out a bottle of liquid and a match.