Chapter Text
Kim Dokja hummed to himself as he began to do his daily routine of cleaning his library.
He actually hadn't meant to stumble across it, he'd be running away from hunters when he decided to take refuge in this building. The hunters, thinking a winged creature wouldn't hide in a building, brushed past it and continued to search the skies and forest. Dokja had stayed there for hours after that, unmoving, until he felt it was safe enough to explore the building.
It was an old library. It was dusty and damp, the wooden frames supporting the building rotting due to its age. Cobwebs littered every corner, the books on the shelves had yellowed with its age, pages strewn about the floor.
Yet, he felt safe here. The library reminded him a bit of himself, lonely and forgotten. His father was a human, who abused both him and his mother. His father had actually bought his mother from a hunter, forcing her to carry his child, pissed at Dokja for bearing Avian traits. His mother had eventually killed his father, not being able to stand the abuse. She had tried to escape with Dokja, but once they had caught onto the fact an Avian had murdered a human, they weren't to keen on letting her off the hook. Her story was used as propaganda, further convincing humans that Avians were violent creatures. Dokja had barely managed to escape, forcing him to fend for himself at a young age. Other of his kin had reacted with violence when he tried to approach them. He was an Avian with human blood. Unlike his fellow winged people, his wings were small. He could only use them to fly short distances, and his claws were dull at best. He talked and acted like a human, being raised as such, therefore he was isolated. It's not like Dokja blamed them, or anything. For as long as he could remember, Avians were just trophies for humans. They'd long been after their kind, many bragging about having a taxidermy made out of their Avian, some even keeping them alive as pets. This caused a hatred between the two races, humans thought Avians were naturally violent creatures, which is how they justified hunting them. Avians detested humans, for hunting their kin. Those who survived humans often told tales about how they were used, put in a cage for entertainment as humans admired their wings. An Avian took great pride in their wings, so some humans went as far as plucking their feathers, or removing their wings all together. From the stories Dokja had heard, Avians without wings soon go mad without them. Their natural instinct for flight and taking off in the air could no longer be sated, many would rather take their own lives, jumping off of cliffs if only to fly one last time. Dokja had once tried removing his wings, perhaps to be more human. Being a breed of Avian and human, he didn't fit in with either. His wings made him a violent Avian, his human habits made him a disgusting hunter. However, when he'd tried to removed his wings, all it did for him was bloody his clothes and cause him to pass out from the pain. He couldn't use that wing for weeks as it healed, and it being on his back made it hard to treat the infection. While some feathers had grown back, it was mainly left without, leaving a patch of feathers missing. From that point on, he decided it wasn't worth it to try and rid himself of his wings, finding himself taking extra care in preening them the following months.
One thing Dokja enjoyed about human culture was books. His mother had been the one to teach him about these things, after being forced to live as a human herself for years. His father had kept her comfined within the house, and even from a young age he knew how something was wrong with her wings. They were a soft pink color, but it was often covered in dirt in grime. She'd taught him Avian traits, like preening wings and scratching things with claws to sharpen them. She'd so taught him human traits, like how to read and write. He spoke human dialect pretty fluently, which many Avians refused to do. They had their own language, mostly non-verbal, which was hard to teach unless you had grown up around it. He still remembers after he first escaped, trying to speak to Avians with his human tongue, only to be left tattered and bruised. He thought it was unfair at the time, though looking back on it he supposed they had a reason to. A half-Avian speaking human tongue might mean he was ready to sell out his Avian blood, which they refused to let happen. After that, he'd learned to avoid both humans and Avians. He raised himself, living in the forest, befriending deer and rabbits, and hiding from hunters.
In his 22 years of life, he had to say this library was the best thing about it, other than his mother.
He took great pride in taking care of this lone library, he spent hours everyday carefully dusting and cleaning the floors. It was close enough to humans for Avians to avoid, and close enough to Avians for only hunters to venture out into the forest. He found it peaceful this way, but also a bit lonely. Though, for someone who'd spent most of his life alone, being lonely wasn't a foreign feeling. Instead, he would carefully spend his days repairing books with missing pages, or reading the words on them. Many of the books here were old, meaning there were little books on the existence of Avians. Some people still believed they were mythical, but these days many knew of their existence, with taxidermy and live Avians proving their existence. He found some books describing Avian creatures, laughing at some of the sketches that showed them as bird-human hybrids with disproportionate wings and large clawed hands. There were many different sketches, none being accurate, he found this book amusing.
He'd been living in this library for around 8 months now, and it quickly became his home. His nesting instincts spiked dramatically, which is why there was a shittly made nest that sat up on the second floor. It was made in an area that used to have sofas, before he ripped out the damp cotton for his nest. It was pretty comfy, even if it was fair from perfect. It was a combination of sticks, pillows, and cotton, and was surprisingly comfortable. It was here he'd read the most, but sometimes he'd perch on the support beams holding the building together, or the chairs he'd left in tact. Another Avian instinct that had made itself known was the urge to collect.
He had collected things before, but now that he wasn't constantly on the move he'd found the urge to explore and collect stir within him. Which is why he found himself on the outskirts of a small town, looking for interesting human things.
He had been here before, carefully shuffling through garbage as various silverware made its way into his bag. Last time he was here, it was because he'd been exploring, stumbling across a place where humans lived. After finding out there was a town a 10-minute walk away from his home, he spent an embarrassing amount of time simply observing people as they lived their day to day lives. He'd watched with beady eyes as they exchanged things for green paper. He watched as they utilized horses for travel, grand carriages attached by rods and rope. He watched as they discussed with eachother, and while he was too far away to hear their words, he could hear faint sounds of laughing and gasps as the conversations continued. It was interesting, seeing them live their day to day lives. He'd never really gotten to observe them before, being locked in a cramped house his entire life. Now, however, there was nothing stopping him from staring, drinking in their culture and customs. Though, he made sure to never stay for too long, worry of being caught stopping him from staying.
This time, as he searched through their garbage, he found a book. He gasped a bit, slowly turning the book back and forth in his hands before happily setting it inside the bag. The silverware in there made a louder noise than he expected when it had made contact with the book, so he quickly scattered. Just in time, apparently, since moments after he delved into the forest, he heard the sounds of shuffling as a man with a candle and a rifle approached the backyard. He sighed in relief, before walking back to his nest.
The journey back was uneventful, he had long grown used to exploring the forest in the dark. It helped that there weren't many dangerous creatures around these parts, so he wasn't afraid. While he couldn't see as well in the dark as other Avians, it was enough to where he didn't feel nervous about tripping or being snuck up on. After his walk back, he slowly opened the doors to his library, chirpping happily as he climbed up the stairs to his nest. He carefully stepped in it, settling down comfortably before deciding to sort through his findings. It was mainly silverware, something his mother taught him to use. She explained that Avians would normally use their claws, but said Dokja could use whatever method he preferred for his food. While he still preffered claws over silverware, he still liked collecting it for the purpose that it looked cool. In particular, the many different types of spoons humans had. There were many, he discovered. Big, small, fancy, plain. He found the small fancy ones a bit funny, the intricate designs on such a small thing was humorous. After adding the silverware to his collection, (a disorganized pile in the corner of the floor), he opened the book, happy at the discovery. He was getting ready to read, before a wave of exhaustion hit him, and he decided he'd wait until morning.
When morning came, the sun was barely filtering through the windows. He froze, hearing human voices outside.
Hunters.
He panicked, shuffling around as he desperately flapped his wings. He had barely scrambled onto a beam high up before the sounds of people entering his library made its way into his ears. He'd made this hiding spot when he first arrived, using loose planks on the floor below as support for up here. As long as the didn't observe the ceiling carefully, he should be fine. He felt his heart beat erratically in his chest as the voices began to speak.
"Woah, this library looks pretty shitty." He heard a voice speak up. The person speaking looked like a teenager, with a mop of messy white hair on his head. He felt his feathers puff up angrily at this.
"Of course it does, dumbass. It's pretty old." Another voice said. She had her black hair tied up into a ponytail. He was really close to jumping down and killing them both.
"Shut up, both of you. There are reports of an Avian in this area, remember?" She sounded older, sword out of its hilt, ready to strike. Yeah, he should stay up here. It was silent for a bit, as pairs footsteps sounded on the floor. He watched his dismay as the two younger kids argued, knocking over books, and ruining the library.
"What's this?" The one with her hair up in her ponytail spoke up. He watched three people surround her. He shivered at the sight of the 4th person, who looked like he could kill him without a shred of remorse. He was tall and strong, short, black hair covered his head. The strong scary man stood deathly still as the 3 searched through his collection of silverware.
"By the looks of it, it seems an Avian lives here." The one with her hair up in a bun and sword at her side spoke. They observed the nest.
"Do you think the Avian living here killed the previous owner?" The one with a ponytail spoke. He grimaced. Did they really think that lowly of him?
"Unlikely. This place has been abandoned for years." The buff man said, voice gruff and deep. He widened his eyes and the man's voice, he never knew a person's voice could go that deep.
"Masters right." The one with white hair nodded with a seriousness that almost made Dokja chuckle. Well, maybe he would have, if not for the fear that was rattling him. 'Master' just frowned at the name.
"Oh, stop trying to suck up to Master, Namwoon." Ah, so the one with white hair was Namwoon.
"Says you, Jihye! Just last week you-"
"Shut up!" They bickered, the one with a bun sighing. Dokja just observed, by the expressions of the adults, this was a normal occurrence. The one with a bun continued looking through his silverware collection, muttering.
"So, this is where all their silverware has been going?" She thought outloud, humming. He watched in dismay as she picked up his silverware, storing them in her bag. Master watched her as she did this, before speaking again.
"We should kill that Avian before it decides it's tired of petty theft." Dokja just frowned.
"You're right, Master! Should we burn this library down?" Namwoon said excitedly. He felt his blood go cold, he was about to reveal himself to make them stop, before Master emotionlessly replied.
"No. By the looks of it, the Avian isn't here, or it's just hiding. It'd be better to wait for it to reveal its presence." The 3 people around him nodded at his words. "Let's explore the rest of this area. Since it's not here right now, one person shall stay behind in case the Avian comes back. The rest will search the forest." Master sighed, before adding: "if you encounter the Avian, make sure to keep it alive. They go for a higher price that way." They nodded as Dokja felt his heart pounding in his ears. They were really out for him, weren't they?
Their conversations got quieter after that, as they worked hard to ruin his library. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight. Since they were quieter, he couldn't make out their words, so he just sat up in his hiding place.
It was much later that he started to regret not bringing a book. While he did like observing humans, the one left behind, Heewon, was sitting there quietly. He would've gone down to try and get back his silverware, of not for the way she seemed ready to attack at any given moment, even sitting down she was ready to kill. Master and the two teenagers had left ages ago, leaving him and Heewon in the library.
Well, not that Heewon knew he was here.
He was currently zoning out, legs and wings cramping from staying unmoving for so long. He had calmed down a bit, but he was still on edge knowing 4 hunters were wishing for his demise right now. Finally, finally, they all met up again, discussing their findings before leaving his library. He took this time to stretch, bones popping softly. He stayed up there for longer, wanting to be sure they had left, before making his decent.
While his wings may not be that good for flying, it was helpful for when he needed to hop down off of high places. He smoothly landed, dusting himself off. They'd been here the entire day, the sun now setting. His stomach made itself known, growling in protest as he groaned. Thanks to them, he hadn't eaten today, and by now it was too late for hunting. Avians preffered meat, but could live without it. While a rabbit did sound good right now, he instead settled for berries that were growing near the library. After collecting various berries in a wooden bowl, he began to chew them, deep in thought as he looked at the state of his library. It made him sad to see it in such a state, books knocked over and muddy footprints all over the place. He finished his meal, sighing, before deciding to take care of the previously fallen books. With gentle hands, he picked up his books, setting them back in place, cleaning the ones that had gotten dirt on them. Now satisfied, he looked at the floor, still covered in grime. He looked outside, it was getting dark. While he could take care of the dirt now, he decided it was a tomorrow Dokja problem, deciding to instead rearrange his nest before going to sleep.