Her mind is ahead of her mouth in the equation of how well a tree would need to be along to support his weight before and with the wings, which put him further up from the ground, and out here, in whatever passed for 'the real world' in this place, where falling could fuck up a whole lot more than just some feathers bothered by the Horizon.
Jo's mostly done, though she thinks somehow, and Dean is still caved forward, shoulders and the muscles of his back looser than she's seen in a good while again. There's a temptation at the edge of her fingertips, and she's paused for a moment looking at the curved walls of white feathers, dithering on whether to reach out again and run her fingers down through the feathers to feel them that way. The way they're supposed to be.
no subject
"We could look for straw-stuffed ones."
Her mind is ahead of her mouth in the equation of how well a tree would need to be along to support his weight before and with the wings, which put him further up from the ground, and out here, in whatever passed for 'the real world' in this place, where falling could fuck up a whole lot more than just some feathers bothered by the Horizon.
Jo's mostly done, though she thinks somehow, and Dean is still caved forward, shoulders and the muscles of his back looser than she's seen in a good while again. There's a temptation at the edge of her fingertips, and she's paused for a moment looking at the curved walls of white feathers, dithering on whether to reach out again and run her fingers down through the feathers to feel them that way. The way they're supposed to be.