but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave
The muted buzz of distant emotions on his side is a comfort somehow. To know that he can sense her own emotions in some way, but to respect her - or himself? - enough to not open the floodgates, to punish her somehow, or to make this harder. She has much to focus on as is. Though she is healed, there is the tremor of uncertainty in her wings, which tuck tight to her small body as if unwilling to open at all. It is entirely the woman inside that prompts such a defensive and nervous reaction. The bird is all too willing to leave an imprint of wings in the snow in search of the blustering winds above.
Helplessly she turns to Sunjata, hopping closer as talons spear snow with each step. Last time I flew, I was injured. Not a great confidence boost. Though she tries for levity, there's a shake of fear beneath made all the more obvious by the way he can feel it even half-hidden as she tries to keep...everything.
But she trusts him despite it all, and so without thinking twice she follows his instructions and spreads her wings wide. The golden pinions flare as his own emotions bleed over, and her mind runs in circles trying to decide whether to cling or recoil. Trying to focus, she lets her wings flex, spreading each level of feathers that she can actively control. There is a flood of anticipation, an aching urge to go up, up, up, pure and untainted by anything else she is feeling as it spills unchecked through the bond that tethers them. Until the memory of that horrible night swells up from the woman inside, and she shrinks away from it again. I can't. I can't. Mulish and stubborn to hide the fear beneath as her wings snap closed abruptly.
Helplessly she turns to Sunjata, hopping closer as talons spear snow with each step. Last time I flew, I was injured. Not a great confidence boost. Though she tries for levity, there's a shake of fear beneath made all the more obvious by the way he can feel it even half-hidden as she tries to keep...everything.
But she trusts him despite it all, and so without thinking twice she follows his instructions and spreads her wings wide. The golden pinions flare as his own emotions bleed over, and her mind runs in circles trying to decide whether to cling or recoil. Trying to focus, she lets her wings flex, spreading each level of feathers that she can actively control. There is a flood of anticipation, an aching urge to go up, up, up, pure and untainted by anything else she is feeling as it spills unchecked through the bond that tethers them. Until the memory of that horrible night swells up from the woman inside, and she shrinks away from it again. I can't. I can't. Mulish and stubborn to hide the fear beneath as her wings snap closed abruptly.
