Tired wings? What about aching wings?
Keen sight narrows in on a distant, protruding cliff that swelled
out from the land. On a second’s notice, she jets herself forward
with the same velocity as light and settles upon the Earth with a
great heave. Her wings return to her back, a hand cupped over
her brow to block out the sunlight in order to glance out into the
distance where Alduin still approached. In all physical manifestation,
he could surely beat her at a race… but to use her wings as a norm,
angels were unmatched.
❝ I’m sorry, my friend! ❞ She calls when
he nears, ❝ I didn’t expect to get so tired! ❞
❴ THOUGH THE ANGEL ❵ had once again beaten him to a point of finality, her apologies upon his descent were of more intriguing matter. Great claws sank into the moist earth, lowering himself as gracefully as such a massive creature. Nostrils expelled blazing air from his nostrils as skull cocked towards her, membranous wings folding into forearms meant for grounded movement.
❝ Niid krosis. Games of pleasure should not fester old wounds. ❞