The British Butterfly
Abigail Whistler
The Hellion
Night Stalker
Posts: 26
(7/9/05 5:51 pm)
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Going Fishin'
The airport was rarely a basket of bustling color and sound. As of 9/11 things had gotten so much more serious. Less fun for those actually involved with the airport, but more fun for those who weren't. Abbi tended to hate airports. Ever since a school trip in seventh grade she stayed away from them. A huge metal bird with stoic wings and a loud song was no way to travel the skies. In fact, in Abbi's opinion there really was no good way to travel the skies. Humans weren't meant to fly. They were suppose to stay on the ground, or else they would have wings like so many other creatures. It wasn't so bad that she hyperventilated and had to use the complimentary brown paper bag to get her respirations under control. It was just that she was tense, and uncomfortable the entire time. Didn't matter how long the flight was. She didn't sleep, couldn't eat and no matter how you leaned the seat back, she couldn't get comfortable.
So Abbi had learned to just stay away from planes. It wasn't the height. Not at all. Abbi could stand on top of the Empire State building blindfolded. With nothing but the feel of rushing wind and distant sounds of life below. That didn't bother her. Just something about a machine so large and hulking being able to raise its mass into the air and achieve the weighlessness that should only belong to the feathered kind.
Given all this new and interesting information, one would assume that Abbi would stay away from the airport all together, lest she be sucked into its trickery. Of course, this wasn't so. She happen to like airports. It wasn't often at all that she went but when she did it was like a little special treat to herself. Hardly anyone knew that she came here. Even Hannibal. It was a facet of her personality that she didn't care to share with anyone. She hated planes but she liked to people-watch. As it was she had been there all day. Examining and lazily watching people as they left. The sun was set for about twenty minutes now, and rarely did she stay anywhere long past nighttime. It just wasn't safe anymore. Not that she couldn't take care of herself. It's just that she liked it better if things were on her terms.
Raising her wrist into the somewhat dim fluorescent lighting she focuses her eyes on the little digital numbers. 9:30pm. Hmm. Another ten minutes and she would go. As it was the area was mostly deserted except for a few people waiting for a midnight flight out to Topeka. There was just something about the chaos during the day and the peace at night that appealed to Abbi. Perhaps like her own life, hectic and crazy at night and somewhat peaceful if not stressful and demanding as she planned for the night ahead, during the day.
She was dressed casually in a pair of dark colored denim jeans. And a shirt that matched Hannibal's 'Hello My Name is "@#%$ You"' A shirt that she rarely if ever wore. It was his idea that they get matching ones. Team unity or something. But she was getting to the bottom of her laundry pile and this was convienent. Her big combat boots rested on a tablet set infront of her. She was huddled in her leather jacket even though it wasn't cold. Long dark tresses spilled in soft waves over the expressive fabric. She had her iPod with her, but it wasn't playing. Normally if she was here she played it during the day, when all she really wanted out of the chaos was the sight not necessarily the sound. Now her ears twitched to the sounds, if minute. The hum of the lights above her, the click as the soda machine behind her came on. The tapping of a flight secretary did paperwork for the night. The gum popping of a little kid across the room. It was comfortable here. And she liked it. Just a few more minutes.
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