Kay’s participating in the fight against the reversed version of May (It was still hard to believe there was a more sadistic version of her) had left a noticeable mark on her. In two senses.

Firstly, she was being slightly more cautious before starting causing any issues in training sessions- impromptu fights, yelling at the others when they made absolutely stupid moves in spars, and so on- as the reverse!May had actually scared her and it was a little too easy to think of fighting her instead of May. However, this didn’t mean she wasn’t doing that. It was Kayleigh, of course she was still getting overly angry during training.

More noticeably, she had two huge scars on her shoulder- one on the front and one behind. Anti!May’s claw had apparently passed right through her, leaving probably one of the largest piercing scars anyone had ever had before. She might have had better healing than most when she had her belt on, but she hadn’t at the time she’d been wounded, and this wound was too large for her to recover. Kay thought that if she hadn’t been able to heal faster than most, it probably would have left a hole right through her shoulder.

As it was, she got pains moving her arm up too high or moving it around too vigorously. The medic who had insisted she should see him, and who had thankfully not annoyed Kay too much, had told her that this would get better with time so long as she followed the prescribed physical exercises properly.

Despite the pains that it kept shooting through her left side, and the nuisance the exercises were (it did get more painful when she didn’t do them and she had only decided to abide to them after having one day where her arm refused to move at all without feeling like it was setting on fire), she wouldn’t have removed that scar.

It was a bit like a badge. “Get stronger”. “Learn how to kick even May’s ass”. But that wasn’t the main reason. Frankly, it just looked cool. Kay was tempted to get a tattoo around it to highlight it, even. Clearly denote it as being from May’s double and so on.

This was all to say, that when she arrived in New York City by flying, the outcome was somewhat inevitable.

New York always seemed to demand her to be flying herself. It was the kind of place where walking just didn’t make sense to her when you had alternatives. And she had been doing fine, until her arm blazed up in pain again.

It wouldn’t ever set on slowly. It was like having that blade cause the wound again, this time coated in acid, and delivering that first manoeuvre after what had opened it up again. It was like some super-strong moron was ripping her limbs off and had nearly removed her arm. It was like someone was pouring boiling metal over her arm.

So it was instinct that caused her muscles to tense up, including her left wing, which curled in one awkward, jerky motion underneath her. Her smooth forwards trajectory took a similar rapid change- no longer stable, she fell into an involuntary barrel roll and started heading off to the left, before, rapidly reacting, she furled in her other wing similarly.

At least like that she was less likely to crash into any buildings. She had a feeling crashing into a building would result in a higher level of pain than a wonky landing on the ground.

It was good that it was still pretty early. It gave her fairly clear roads as a landing point without having to squash anyone.

She could hear people exclaiming and pointing at her. As she was nearing the ground, she did her best to spread out her wings properly to slow her descent. This was considerably easier said than done, and her left wing only unfurled slightly as her right extended fully. Thus, her landing was very uneven though she managed it without too much strain on herself. Her knee buckled briefly, but she recovered and quickly made her way over to the sidewalk. The people who were around were staring, and her right hand clapped to her left shoulder now she was landed.

Kay didn’t much care about the staring she was receiving. She got stares most places she landed; it came with having wings. She did the natural thing and tried to act as if nothing had happened, passing through the people on the commercial street. Someone knocked into her arm and she noticeably winced and then started avoiding the other people so well as she could from physical contact.

All she’d wanted to do was to visit New York. Getting back would probably take a lot more effort now unless her arm stopped blazing up soon.



(OoC: Assumptions of how to deal with this wound courtesy of my own past injuries. I assume leg and arm injuries would behave similarly. If not, oh well, none of us are doctors).

Isaac knelt next to a new box. He’d thoroughly picked through the previous box of donated clothes. He was so intent on this new box that he didn’t notice someone walking up behind him. He was pretty sure he’d completely picked through this box last week. He gave a small start when a voice spoke behind him.

”Can I help you find something?”

”Yeah. Do you have anything for little girls? I...it’s for my sister.” Isaac turned around to see one of the priests standing behind him hands clasped in front of him and a soft smile on his face. They all looked the same. They all had the soft, sorry-for-you smiles and eyes. Isaac hated it. He didn’t want people to feel sorry for him. That didn’t help, it never helped. His simpering smile widened a little.

”Sure. Let’s go look over here.” He began gliding off towards a corner in the front of the church. Isaac stood, taking the garbage bag of clothes he’d already picked out with him. Out the windows, he could see people staring and pointing up at the sky. He shoved the bag into the priest’s still clasped hands. He wasn’t paying attention to the fact that all the different kinds and styles of clothes that were in the bag fell to the ground.

He was just in time to see a winged girl fall towards the ground. ”Son. You forgot this.” The bag was pressed back in his hand, but he hardly noticed, even if he closed his hands around the bag. He took off with barely a mumbled thanks. He was just in time to see one of his teammates walking down the street, holding her shoulder. He hurried up to her, putting himself between her hurt shoulder and the rest of New York.

”Hey. You okay?”

Kay kept on rubbing the affected shoulder as she walked on. The pain was working its way up through the joint, and it felt like the pain was working up and through the joint, and like it was ready to fall off even. Kay jumped slightly as she realised she was being spoken to. It shouldn’t have surprised her- she must have attracted a lot of attention, but it still did. She turned her head to Isaac as he walked up to her, and took a few seconds to process who it was past the pain from the wound.

”Hey.” She managed to make her voice sound calmer than it was. She valued his decision in where to position himself. He could function as a barrier between her arm and the rest of the street; a good idea for her comfort and probably their safety. She was –slightly- less likely to end up hitting Isaac than random passers by. ”Just an old wound, it’s fine.” As fine as a piercing right through your chest from an adamantium claw could be, anyway.

Kay looked back again at her team mate and noticed the bag that Isaac was carrying. ”Isaac, why do you have a bag of clothes?” Kay really had no explanation of her own. Coming into New York City to buy new clothes that looked.. kind of like they were meant for small girls. If Isaac donated clothes to people, given what kay knew of his economic status, that would be a surprise, but it would be pretty awesome. She had a large soft spot for children that she didn’t like admitting.