Nova
when fears are grounded,
Nova hears his tips with a curious level of interest specifically correlated with not 'faceplanting into the sand.' Her mind tries to grasp what he says as she divides her attention between the slowly fumbling rhythm of her wings and the ideas he suggests, immediately balking at his final note. I can do it! At least she thinks she can - hopes she can.
Like sliding down a hill... She thinks it more to herself, but it ripples down the bond, an adorable level of concentration leaving it devoid of giggles or popping colors. Pointing her beak down, she begins to plummet back towards the shore, the speed giving her the impression that this was not what he meant. Tilting back, she flares her wings to catch the air, the force tugging at her muscles enough to have them trembling with effort. A tiny spark of alarm flashes in her mind, telling her she might not be able to handle this, but she refuses to give it any space.
Despite the support under her wings, she's moving down at a somewhat concerning pace, the ground getting closer by the second. Rather than panic like she wants to, Nova stubbornly recalls his other point, and just as the sand looks like it might be her grave, she focuses her mind to flap her wings in a life-saving moment of fluttering wings, barely slowing her enough so that her feet fall heavily onto the beach.
Her breath comes out in a deep sigh as she gains her footing. When she's sure she isn't going to faceplant or have her heart explode, she tucks the delicate appendages back against her body to hide the small tremble, puffing her colorful chest. See? I got it.
Like sliding down a hill... She thinks it more to herself, but it ripples down the bond, an adorable level of concentration leaving it devoid of giggles or popping colors. Pointing her beak down, she begins to plummet back towards the shore, the speed giving her the impression that this was not what he meant. Tilting back, she flares her wings to catch the air, the force tugging at her muscles enough to have them trembling with effort. A tiny spark of alarm flashes in her mind, telling her she might not be able to handle this, but she refuses to give it any space.
Despite the support under her wings, she's moving down at a somewhat concerning pace, the ground getting closer by the second. Rather than panic like she wants to, Nova stubbornly recalls his other point, and just as the sand looks like it might be her grave, she focuses her mind to flap her wings in a life-saving moment of fluttering wings, barely slowing her enough so that her feet fall heavily onto the beach.
Her breath comes out in a deep sigh as she gains her footing. When she's sure she isn't going to faceplant or have her heart explode, she tucks the delicate appendages back against her body to hide the small tremble, puffing her colorful chest. See? I got it.
dreams take flight
