ultima

Most people had the courtesy not to ask, but it’d take a proper fool to believe they really didn’t know. Girl like that, big, beautiful wings strapped to her back, walking everywhere? Maybe not on first glance, maybe not even on the second, but by the third curious appraisal, who wouldn’t have known? Even Ultima thought it was a strangeness, and she was one who’d been grounded since birth. She couldn’t imagine anything more uncanny than a flightless bird, and certainly nothing more pitiable; content as she thought she’d been, there was always something in her chest, poised and ever-ready, that took hold of her little heart and clenched anytime she so much as considered a life spent on flatland. It wasn’t what she was meant for. None of this was. If she could right that wrong, she thought, maybe the road ahead would come clear. Maybe she could finally go home, Raistlynn and crocodile be damned.
 
(Could you leave Tilney? Could you leave Maude? Oh, sweet thing.)
 
Asking around was rubbing salt in the wound, but it was a necessary pain. The last year had given her perspective; her life still glowed at the edges, but she understood that there were real hurts, savage hurts; this small blow to her pride would pay for itself hundreds of times over if she’d give a show of faith and leap.
 
But. Not literally.
 
“No!” she shrieked, her poll drawing back along the long, thin neck, her ears pinned. Her tail swished back and forth in agitation, the thick hair sweeping at the tall meadow grass. They’d been having lessons whenever all the ladies had a chance, and the hard and fast option – of bounding off the Edge – came up at least twice every single session. It would’ve been nice to say she understood why; it also would’ve been nice to say that she was a shining example of decorum and restraint, paving the way for young Gawen, who was learning alongside her and Queen Alysanne. Alas. “I’m really very sorry, ‘Ona, but I’m really not going to jump off! I’d rather eat beetles!” (She hated beetles.) Even with all of her progress, the idea of so much water and so little good, solid earth gave the girl so much anxiety she could’ve collapsed on the spot. And she nearly did, though more for exertion than anything. Her lungs burned. Her wings and back, not used to so much stress, were heavy and aching, and she felt bruisey all over.
 
Still, vain little things took well to challenges. Once she had finer motor control, she’d skip right off that cliff, mark her words – for now, though, hop-and-glides and bouncing suited her just fine, even if she was practicing them alongside an actual infant.. “Come on, Gawen,” she said, her smile tight, but plucky and encouraging nonetheless, “Let’s see how much higher we can jump this time, hm?”

dear god, make me a bird so i can fly far away from here