The Raven, Oh How He (Wanders) [FIN]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

THE RAVEN
Everett Moore



Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

Young, he is the shadow that haunts the woods. At the age of only ten and nine he is out of sight and out of mind, until he is to be there. He wanders his life past, never again breathing the air of his old life, the coal that choked him no longer hinders his lungs. Even still, blackness cloaks him, like a forgotten shadow that can never be washed away. Weary, he seeks the relief of revenge, the release that comes only in the death of the opposing. A sad release.

In that cloak of darkness he stands, layers of darkness covering yet more. Breathing shadows as the only light strikes from his eyes, deep pools of turbulence like that of an angry sea. Blue as the depths of the ocean and dark as the depths of his heart, they reflect nothing but his soul, in turn they reveal everything but his heart. Hair as black as the coal that coated everything, streaks of colours if ever the sun touched it; but a rarity it would be, the beauty lost to the umbrage of night. Pale as the moon, so one would expect, but nigh he holds colour in him yet, colour of a lightened olive. His past can not be hidden when it is so clearly portrayed by his own self, his own form.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

He dresses himself in the dusk of his life every piece of clothing further mirroring the last. Black from crest to talon like the raven that flies alongside, he blends with the darkness he fled to. A black cap rests upon his black locks, locks which shade more his dark eyes. A silken feather flies like a flag from the brim of his hat, black and iridescent. Follow the trim and evenly muscled lines of his neck to see his shoulders clad in darkness, black under black as shirt rests under coat. In the winter it is a trench coat, in summer a cloak flutters around him. At times he may be driven to wear both, cold being what it is, though rarely is he ever in that desperation.

Extending below the edges of his coat, or vaguely emerging from behind his cloak are two legs, covered in more dark fabric. Jean material died black protects him from the harshness of the brush, though they have many points of wear. He only ever lives in these, shorts being more of a nuisance than a comfort. On his feet are hunting boots, flexible and comfortable but durable. Further the black extends, to the very ends of the laces, as further the silence extends, to the very sole of his boots. Beneath all this black, under the skin of olive and covering the silent soul, lays muscle. It is almost indiscernible underneath the layers, but there is an amount that gives way to strength. If he were to ever undress himself every muscle would be visible, but not bulge.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

His hands own long fingers, each one meeting a small palm. They are gloved, the fabric covering them a black leather, hiding every detail that could tell the world so many truths, and reveal so many lies. Like the scar that runs from the web between his thumb and first finger to the base of his palm on the opposite side. This scar marks his right hand, just as it marks his tie to his raven. For his is but a raven knight, though no glory serve him yet. The neck of the gloves reaches out, searching for his elbow, thin gray lines laying out the pattern drawn by raven claws formed of countless perches and flights.

At his waist, hidden by either cloak or coat, a belt of black leather holds protection in the form of blades and blunts, cord and dagger. Handles decorated as feathers protrude from the tops of his boots while more lay hidden against his skin. Outside of danger, a long sheath labeled with raven letters hides a blade inscribed with a raven's feather and word. The scratched letters of the raven's tongue read 'Black is the feather that falls.' And as in answer the blade reads 'Nevermore.'

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Silence is all that fills him, each step taken with care to never break the unspoken tension that holds him. One slip, he feels, and he slides into a hole not even the strongest raven could fly from. His wings are fledged now, large and grand after his time spent perfecting the art of self-defense. Training had been all that had occupied his thoughts, but as the raven learns to use tools he learned that this was not the way for him. Bent like a wire hook, caught in a snare sent by a hunter, he had been snagged. Still he stayed, even as the snare grew tighter coming ever closer to choking him. Until the day he had broken free of the trap, fleeing high into the air where birds escape the trapper.

Now he has wheeled his flight around, tail feathers tucking as he prepares to dive at the hunter who so nearly made him their slave. For a raven is always free, and freedom is always in a raven. Set on revenge against his captors, he has gathered himself. With only a wish to free those who belong under the stars he rebels against those who force them into cages. After time he will have grown in strength and strategy, and then he will be able to break the chain that held the others bound. He would remove the hood that blinded his fellows. One day, he will have his vengeance, or so was his wish.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

This is not to say his is all talons, there is some down under his feathers. However, his heart only belongs to one, the raven that makes him what he is. Corax. They are like one, or perhaps as brothers are the same but yet not. As family, they take what comes and believe in one another. No other person or creature is allowed into the depths of his self. For they would see him too well, and they would hurt him too much. To be close meant to be vulnerable, and vulnerability only meant pain. He had been hurt before, and he didn't want to feel that pain ever again. Thus he lets no one in, and he built his wall of black silence to make sure they stay out.

He marks his own little rebellion, a theft here, a fight there. Going around to visit powerful people in their moments of weakness, he scares them, warns them. He protects those who need protection, trying to bring hope back to a world he had lost hope in. Each time he made a stance he would leave a raven feather behind. Some, for the most important people, were delicately carved from oak and stained black while most were real feathers. Either is a clear sign that he had been there, a symbol of joy for those he helped and a sign of fear for those he opposes. Truthfully, he brings more fear to people through what he doesn't do than what he does. He has never killed as a first strike, but this does not mean he wouldn't fight to the death if he had to. He has morals, but even they get stretched from time to time.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

He was not always The Raven, just as he was not always clothed in black and had not always known raven speech. At birth he was a bright eyed, happy baby boy. He grew up with a mother who loved him and a father that never existed. His mother was young, having him at the age of seventeen, and his father had fled from the responsibility. Even with the trouble it caused, his mother raised him well. He had grown up with a sense of right and wrong, and he had developed a quick wit and clever thinking. His grandmother cared for him alongside his mother and he never truly understood that he never had a father.

At the age of seven he found a young raven, too young to know how to fly but old enough to move about on it's legs. He had been going through the old rhyme his grandmother had taught him, having seen ravens only moments before finding this one. One for sorrow, there had been one flying overhead, two for joy, another one had been poking through the trash. Three for a girl, four for a boy, two had been in a tree, cawing to each other. Five for silver, six for gold, two more had been hopping about behind the fence, like a taunt that he couldn't join them. Seven for a secret, never been told, the young bird gave a hoarse croak at him as he came closer, hopping forward a step in it's own curiosity. A secret never been told, or as he called the bird 'secret', was eventually coaxed into coming home with him. It took some convincing before his mother agreed to let him keep it. His grandmother had said that it obviously liked him if it had followed him home.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Eventually he came to call the raven Corax, as he began to study ravens and learned that such was the Latin word for them. Corax grew to respond to his name, and was always close by him. They became like brothers, though one was a bird and one was a boy. Everett always wanted to fly like Corax, to grow wings and soar as easily as his raven brother. His mother had also become fond of the bird, and always loved to see the joy the two brought to each other. They matured together, becoming more adventuresome and more rambunctious each day, until the age of twelve when Everett's name was first entered into the reaping. Corax would always be near during the reaping, but whenever he tried to perch on Everett's shoulder he was driven off. Both young males felt frustrated and hurt by the forced separation, especially when Everett was in such fear. Thankfully, Everett was never reaped, and each time the reaping was over Corax would crow loudly in joy and do a small dance in the air.

It wasn't until Everett was seventeen that things changed. At that age he had applied to become a peacekeeper, hoping to get accepted into the training. He was, for all that he was almost a year younger than most of the applicants, and both joy and sorrow was felt by the family. The day before he left, Everett tried to explain to Corax that he was free to leave. Whether the raven didn't understand or didn't want to leave it made no difference as he cawed in defiance. Unfortunately, Corax was not allowed on the train that was to take him to District two, and with a long farewell Everett had to leave, hoping that his raven might follow him. While he had made it to District two within a day, he saw no sign of Corax for the next two. Heartbroken, he went about getting himself settled into the training school. He made a friend, a shallow relationship at best at this point, with one of the fellow trainees and began to feel somewhat more comfortable. Still, the thought that Corax wasn't with him weighed heavily on his mind.

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

The third day brought a wonderful surprise, for when the trainees left the bunk house for the first morning exercise there was a raven perched on the roof. Everett, unsure whether it was his raven or not, called up to the bird, earning more than a few curious looks from his fellows. To his delight, Corax cawed in return and swooped down. Instinctively, Everett extended his right arm as a perch. The raven landed gently on his arm, gripping the fabric of his jacket in his talons and flapping his wings in a gesture of joy as he mimicked Everett's voice to say the boy's name as he had learned to. There was no doubt, this was Corax. The other trainees gave interesting reactions, some looking surprised, others looking bewildered and most of them continuing to look at the pair like they were crazy. Slowly, though, they all began to accept this odd friendship and think of it as normal.

The training was consistent, and held no surprises or major occurrences until after a year of being there. Everett's friend had brought up District twelve, and saying how they deserved to be treated better. Everyone there tensed for different reasons, but the boy had continued to talk until the training officer had come over and quieted him with a punch to the gut. Many others muttered complaints about the treatment, but they were silenced by a glare from the officer. The boy was dragged away and didn't return to the group until after dinner. He sported bruises and a black eye, and didn't speak to anyone. Once again everything went back to how it was, and it wasn't until a few months later that anything more happened.

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

A large commotion had brought Everett and Corax to the bunk house, where they found a large ring of silent trainees. Quietly, they slipped into a spot where they could see from, and stared at the scene before them. Their friend lay on the ground, dazed, as a training officer riffled through his things. A triumphant snort came moments before a piece of paper attached to a package was drawn from the bag. It was then Everett realized it was the same officer that had beaten on his friend before, and now seemed to be out for further attempts to cause misery. Gruffly, the officer read out the words on the paper, each making his facial expression more ominous. The small letter spoke of money being sent to those in District twelve, along with some preserved food in the next package. Darkly, the officer brandished the paper at the boy he had knocked down, who was bleeding from one corner of his mouth but at least was sitting up now. Almost instantly, the boy's face drained of colour as he realized that he couldn't get out of this one. All of the trainees, Everett included, knew that they couldn't do anything or else they would suffer the same fate. This little act would be classified under rebellious acts and the perpetrator would be made into an avox. No one wanted to be an avox.

Sure enough, Everett's friend didn't return after the guards dragged him off, and his stuff was collected to be sold or stored. In anguish for his friend, Everett had a hard time keeping up with training and had been threatened multiple times about slacking. Corax knew his companion was hurt deeply and tried to help comfort but even he could do nothing to change what had happened, or the anger that filled Everett. That was, until Corax showed him the way out. It was the middle of the night and a low croaking woke Everett. Corax had his beak right close to his ear and was trying to mimic a word, with the bird's slight fumble at the language it took a moment before Everett realized what it was, 'out'. Not sure what was going on, but trusting Corax completely, he slid out of bed, dressed and grabbed his pack. Silently, or as quietly as he could, he left the bunk house. Following the shadow of the raven, he made his way to the edge of the training camp, Corax warning him every time a guard was near. It took some tense minutes before they were finally past the eyesight of those patrolling but they made it clear. They were now in the uninhabited area of woods around District two, and home free in terms of Panem, for the most part.

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

It was hard to see the path in front of him as the moon - already weak - barely filtered through the crisscrossing branches above them. Thankfully Corax was a bird of the night, and was easily able to see the way. Croaking so Everett wouldn't get lost, the raven hopped along the forest floor, alerting him to anything he might trip over. They continued on like this for some time, until suddenly Corax took wing to land in the branches of a tree only a short distance away. Following the sound of the bird's beckons, Everett found that the tree had many trunks and the center was hollow. As well, the branches were easy to climb and the only way in was from above. It might not have been the most secure spot, but it definitely would work as a place to hide. Swinging himself up onto the branches, he climbed into the middle of the old tree. It was a good size, room enough that he wouldn't have to bend at awkward angles to fit out of sight. Corax fluttered down beside him and made a makeshift nest out of the dead leaves and bits of bark that lined the ground. Taking that as a cue that everything was alright, Everett settled himself down for sleep.

Habit woke them at shortly after dawn. While neither of them felt especially rested, they knew they couldn't stay in that tree forever - the more distance they put between them and the training camp the better. Everett broke open of the MREs - meals ready to eat - he had been forced to pack by his training officer long ago. They had been instructed on how to prepare their packs in case they were stranded at any time, or were unable to make it back to the camp for any reason. He was glad for it now, and the irony that their practices were helping him get away made him more cheerful. He would have to be careful about food, since including the MRE he had just opened he only had six of them, and might be able to ration himself well enough to last for four days or five if he really stretched. He would have to find food somewhere, but he only had knowledge on what to and not to eat, not how to find it. It was a good thing he had a raven, however, since at the mention of finding food Corax - who had nibbled a few of the crumbs Everett fed him - took off in a lazy flight. Once Everett began to follow him, though, he increased the pace.

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

Nearly an hour later, they came across a berry patch. Corax perched in an overhead tree, watching as Everett grabbed a few of the berries to inspect. They were ripe, and nothing like any of the berries he had learned about. They definitely weren't any of the poisonous ones he had been told of, but they weren't any of the edible ones either. Still, Corax had shown them to him so the bird must think they were alright. Animals had a much better sense of what was good for them than humans did. Holding up his hand, and the berries that rested on them, Everett offered them to Corax. The raven glided down to land on his arm, gently taking one of the berries from his hand and crushing it in his beak before swallowing the mashed berry. With that sign of confirmation, Everett began to pick the berries, eating one of every two he picked. The ones he didn't eat went into a container to be saved for later. At least these could keep him from eating all of the MREs within a couple days. He would be able to stretch them longer now, especially if he had a steady supply of berries. Even still, berries wouldn't offer enough sustenance when the MREs ran out. He would need to learn how to hunt, and once more he thanked the fact that he had befriended a raven.

They went on, neither quite sure what they were looking for most of the time. It wasn't until they stumbled across a rabbit warren that anything happened. Everett had trodden on the burrow and his foot had broken through it, sending the rabbit that lived inside scurrying out. Corax, quick on the draw, flew at the creature and hit it with beak and talons extended. While it was pinned by the raven, Everett drew his knife and hit it with the but end, killing it. He decided to make camp nearby as it was getting late anyway and this way they would be able to cook the rabbit sooner rather than later. After some fumbling he managed to slit open the rabbit and gut it. His attempt to skin it left him with a cut finger but at least he was able to do it. He cut the rabbit into three pieces. Half of it was cut into pieces to be eaten now, a quarter went to Corax, and the last quarter was cut into strips to smoke over the fire - this way he would have rabbit jerky for later. Having eaten, the two males were content for the moment.

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

The next morning Everett looked over his supplies while he ate a breakfast of berries and the last part of the last day's MRE. He was dismayed to see that the purifying drops he had found in his pack were growing low and decided to use only one each time instead of the usual three. After a couple days of this, and a still too visible decline in the drops, he decided to skip purifying some of his water. Unfortunately this led him to get what was known as rabbit fever, and caused him to lose a day of travel to the sickness. From then he decided he would have to get more purifying drops, but there would be no make doing without them. He had to get them, but from where, and how. Most of that kind of thing would be sold in the Capitol, but how could he get in there without being caught? The fabric of his trainee clothes caught his eye, it might come in handy. It was close enough to the real peacekeeper uniform to pass unless the person paid attention long enough to see the differences. Maybe he had a way in after all.

It took some time to sneak past the guards that patrolled the edges of the Capitol, but with some help of Corax acting as a distraction they made it clear. In his trainee uniform no one bothered him, luckily enough, and he was easily able to get the iodine drops that he needed, along with a few other things. He got a small first aid kit, and a black hat. Even something as simple as a hat could change your appearance easily, and right now it would be best if he kept a low profile. Besides, the lady who sold it to him said he looked handsome it in. Getting out of the Capitol proved somewhat more difficult, as it seemed like there were more peacekeepers and Everett wondered if someone had spotted him entering and alerted the peacekeepers. It would be very difficult if they were looking for people who were entering and exiting by the unofficial paths. They would just have to be careful, and Corax might have to make one hell of a distraction. Thankfully these officers fell for the same trick the last ones had and Everett was able to slip out without attracting attention.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

After that first successful attempt at slipping into the Capitol, the pair began to train themselves on how to get in and out of the Districts without being noticed. Corax even learned how to mimic the sound of a girl screaming for help in case they ever got into trouble. It was only after a few times that Everett felt comfortable on entering the District without wearing his trainee uniform, and he began to dress in black following after the style of his hat. Slowly he put together the outfit he now wears, buying the black clothing from different store on different trips in on the fear that he would be caught if he bought too much all at once. When he was fully dressed in black he felt like he was someone different, not the boy Everett who ran away from the peacekeeper training camp, but something more. Slowly he lost use of his name, though it was never permanently erased from his mind, and began to introduce himself as The Raven if he was ever asked. He also started to gather the feathers that Coraz molted, keeping them for some reason he hadn't come across yet. He was sure there was a use for them though, and he continued the practice.

Eventually, he began to give the feathers to any child who were curious about Corax, giving them a gift and saving the raven from being touched by unknowing hands. The wonder on the children's faces was rewarding for him and he began to really enjoy being The Raven, so much so that he wondered what the true potential of The Raven was. He found that out when he came across a girl being hounded by a couple boys who were a few years older than her. Silent, he moved forward, keeping to the shadows in order to use his black clothes to blend in. Corax, seeing what he was doing, flew to a spot behind the boys and let out a sound like a yell. This made the boys turn and gave Everett the perfect opportunity to slide in between them and the girl. When they turned back to their victim, presumably thinking that the yell wasn't directed toward them after Corax fell silent, they found him standing there and the shock on their face was obvious. Smiling what was little more than a smirk, Everett drew his knife and began twisting it between his fingers, a trick he had picked up after he had been bored in the woods for a while.

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

It had taken some time before he was able to do it without being cut, but now he had the habit of fiddling with it in that manner. One such time he had sliced open the palm of his hand, from the web between his thumb and first finger to the base of his palm on the opposite side. When Corax had seen that Everett was injured he had come over and looked at the hand that was bleeding. Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, Corax placed the tip of he beak in the wound, causing Everett to flinch at the pain. When the raven pulled away his head the end of his beak was stained with Everett's blood, and the raven looked at him a little oddly. Then, Corax lunged forward and drove his beak into the wound again, leaving Everett cursing as he tore the hand open further. Not knowing what was going on, Everett tried to yank the bird away, which was hard to do with only one hand. Then, as suddenly as his personality had changed, Corax went back to being the same raven that he had always been, even if his beak was coated in his friend's blood. Not wanting to bleed out anymore than he had, Everett wrapped the hand tightly. It left him a nasty scar that still hadn't quite healed up yet, but the two boys couldn't see it while he had his gloves on so they wouldn't know.

The boys, scared now, looked at each other and then back at him, obviously not knowing what to do. The one on the right seemed to be contemplating running, but the one on the left was clearing sizing him up and probably thinking that there were two of them and only one of him. The one on the left seemed to pluck up his courage and asked him what he thought he was doing. Everett stayed silent, which seemed to throw the boy off. Another question came from the boy, and still Everett stayed silent. Tentatively, as though he was unsure whether Everett was waiting for a moment to strike, the boy asked a last question; "You even goin' to say somethin'?" Giving them a bored glance, Everett once more twisted the blade between his fingers before speaking. "Black is the feather that falls." And, as though in reply or perhaps actually in reply, Corax fluttered over to Everett, who extended his arm to the side for the raven to perch on, and looked at the boys. "Nevermore," croaked the hoarse-sounding voice of the bird. The boys both jumped, looking all the more frightened at the appearance of the bird and the fact that it talked to them. His smirk growing a bit bigger, Everett shared a glance with Corax before saying, "Like he says, nevermore." It was then that he brandished the knife at them and they both fled, terrified of the boy with the raven that talked.

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

It was then that he turned to the girl behind him, finding that she was now on her feet as apposed to on the ground like she had been. She was looking at him with both fear and appreciation in her eyes, and he realized he still had his knife out. Sheathing it, he took off his hat and nodded his head to her, asking if she was alright. When she asked who he was he simply said "The Raven" and drew a feather from the pouch he had placed on his belt. Handing it to her, he walked away, hearing her call out a thank you as he did so. He decided to leave the District then, so that the boys wouldn't be able to point him out to anyone, and spent the day pondering what had happened. The feeling that he had had when he stepped between the girl and her assailants was a feeling of good, and of a silent calmness. It had felt right, and it had been the right thing to do. He had managed to drive the boys off without injuring them or getting injured, and he had helped that girl. Perhaps this was what The Raven was meant to do. As Everett he would have found the thought more complicated, more dangerous, but now that he had seen it as The Raven he was sure it was what he was going to do from now on.

Some time later, he had obtained a sword, not a big clunky thing or some shiny plastic but an actual sword he was comfortable with wielding. He had also invented something called 'raven letters' after taking a look at the patterns left behind by Corax when he walked on the ground and the marks scratched onto the gloves he wore. These letters were symbols that represented individual letters, syllables or whole words. Some of them, the most complex of them, could be used to represent entire ideas. He got these letters inscribed on both his sword sheath and his sword, the letters on the sheath reading "black is the feather that falls" while the blade, as the answer to it, has letters that read "nevermore". He took the idea from what he had said when he had helped that girl. He has raven letters on a few other things, but they're mostly small tokens or items that few people would see. He even has a small black leather-bound book which he writes all of the raven letters in so he can keep track of them. He has created somewhere near thirty symbols so far.

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

_____________________________________________________________________

odair
Based on Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven

In case of confusion; he is nineteen, lived in District twelve and is now a wanderer.

FC: Elijah Wood.

Words
92 - Introduction
600 - Appearance
534 - Personality
4047 - History
5273 - Total

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!