Work Text:
Everyone knows that caged birds don’t sing. Or, at least, they sing right up until they die an early death.
FalseSymmetry was no different. A bird, eagle-like wings chained behind her, feathers messy and unpreened, stuck in a cage, unwilling to sing for her supper. Ready to die.
Or, that was what she led her captors to believe. For False never wanted to die. She had a life to live, things to do, revenge to enact.
She lived a harsh childhood, an egg abandoned and a hatchling forced to fight for every scrap she needed or deserved. Unlike many others in her situation, she thrived on the constant bloodshed, ruthlessly doing what she had to, earning her the title of “The Queen of heads, hearts, and bodyparts”.
On occasion, she would work on her building, but always in quick, small spurts so she wouldn’t get too attached to a build when it was inevitably destroyed.
But, deep down, she never liked the fighting as much as she portrayed. Sure, a small duel here or there got her blood pumping, her feathers ruffling in excitement, and kept her enriched and entertained, but the constant murder, betrayal, and general bloodshed drained her.
She wanted to live, to breathe, to build without worrying about griefers, or backstabbers, or traps.
So, when a strange player gave her an invitation to go off-world with him, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he would be true to his word, and let her live in peace, away from the everyday fighting, on either his personal server or one of her own. He was her ticket out, despite every instinct deep inside screaming at her to not trust him.
As always, though, her gut was right, and he trapped her. One day she was spreading her wings in the sun, free from weapons and fire and endless murder. The next, she was chained up in the cage, forced to fight for his entertainment as often and ruthlessly as he desired.
Now, she ground her talons deeper into his skull, pressed against the floor, her sword stabbed through his chest, pinning him there.
The chains, broken from hours and hours of subtle chipping, lay abandoned n the cage, which lay open for much the same reason as the chains. He had underestimated her, assumed no one, especially not one as broken and cowed as her, would spend the endless hours to damage the bindings.
Well, jokes on him, False was a builder. Builders are known for having absurd amounts of patience for seemingly endless, grindy tasks.
Her wings flared behind her, brilliantly shining bronze and gold in the harsh artificial light of his mansion. Soon, it would be gone. False had been hiding bits of gunpowder and sand, and had amassed a significant amount of TNT.
“How–How dare you! You insolent bird!”
Calmly, False looked down at him, eyes a silent storm of blue-grey, well-contained fury. She was angry, sure, but control was important. Never show that he actually got to you.
“Be careful how you speak to me.” She squeezed a talon tighter, watching in grim almost-satisfaction as he winced in pain. “Now, I am going to leave, and you will not follow me. There is a lot of TNT currently rigged to explode, so you should probably get on with finding that. Don’t come after me.”
She released his head, as roughly as she could, and flapped her wings once, twice, three times, until she launched herself into the air, speeding away.
False was a free bird, for the first time in her life able to do what she was meant to do.
Fly away, and build her nest.
She already had a perfect world picked out.