There is a winged shifter living in Adam’s building.
He’s only seen him once so far, carrying in many boxes at once like they were nothing, and the sight of his brown speckled wings made Adam’s eyes widen. The shifter glared at him and said, “Fuck off,” when he stopped to stare which made Adam think he didn’t like people staring so he left the shifter alone.
But Adam keeps thinking about him.
A little too much.
So much so that when he sees the shifter again one night after work he’s more surprised than he should be, and the sight of those wings makes his stomach flutter.
“Take a fucking picture,” the shifter growls, his accent another surprise, “It’ll last longer.”
Adam frowns. “I’m sorry but your wings...”
The shifter is smoking a cigarette, which Adam doesn’t normally like, but the sight of his lips on the cigarette do things to Adam sexually. He’s never been very attracted to the idea of wings, or really shifters of any type, but seeing some up close his body apparently decided otherwise.
“I’m not a fucking angel,” the shifter says, blowing a cloud of smoke into Adam’s face, “So you can just...”
Adam wrinkles his nose at the smell. “I know that. You’re an avian shifter. I’m guessing some type of eagle, or a hawk? Do you fly out of shift? Have you flown?”
The shifter blinks at him. “I....”
“I’ve only ever been on an airplane once, a few years ago when I moved here from New York. Your accent, I’ve never heard it before. Where are you from?”
The shifter’s wings flutter a bit and Adam can’t help but stare. He wonders if they’re as soft as they look. “Bucharest,” the shifter mumbles, tossing his cigarette to the ground and smashing it with his shoe.
“Romania,” Adam says, smiling, “I’ve never met anyone from Romania.”
He feels oddly warm when the shifter’s gaze travels up and down his entire body. “Now you have,” he purrs, holding out his hand, “Nigel Ibanescu.”
“Adam Raki.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Adam,” Nigel says, “Though I’m sorry if I acted like a fucking asshole the other time I’m not...people...wings aren’t all about flying. There are plenty of bad things that come with them, and yes I’ve flown but only at full shift. Never had any reason to fly like this, and it’s illegal isn’t it?”
Adam frowns. “I didn’t know that.”
“Or at least it is in the states,” Nigel scoffs, letting out a long sigh, “I...it’s nice to meet someone who isn’t...coming up to ask to touch my wings or if I’m secretly a fucking angel. You have no idea how many stupid assholes...”
He feels oddly bad for wondering what Nigel’s wings felt like earlier. “I’m sorry. It’s been nice talking to you, Nigel. I have to get inside now. I’m almost late for dinner.”
Nigel smiles. “On a schedule are we?”
“Always.”
Adam’s heart beats faster when Nigel ask what he means or make fun of him for even suggesting that. Most people do.
“Then you’d better get to it. I’ll stay out here and watch the stars a bit longer.”
He checks his watch and sees it is even closer to dinner time than he thought but can’t resist Nigel’s words. “You like stars? Watching them?”
“Oh yes,” he says, smiling, “I’m definitely a night bird.”
“I like them too,” Adam says fast, feeling a bit excited, “Every week I go up with my telescope to the roof to watch the stars. It’s a much better view. I...I have to go. I’m sorry.”
He wants to stay, but the idea of breaking his schedule is upsetting even for this, though part of him wants to set aside time in case he runs into Nigel again tomorrow.
Would he run into Nigel again tomorrow?
Nigel’s smile widens and he takes out another cigarette. The way it hangs on his lip makes Adam aroused again. Just staring at Nigel’s lips makes Adam aroused.
Can shifters smell arousal?
He hopes they can’t.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Star. Go eat. I’ll see you later.”
Adam nods and rushes inside. He stops once on the stairs and sees Nigel sitting on the steps outside blowing smoke. His wings flutter as he blows out and Adam’s fingers itch to touch them even so far away.
He wonders what type of avian shifter Nigel is.
There are so many types.
His watch goes off and he sucks in a breath running up the stairs.
He can ask Nigel again tomorrow what type of bird he shifts into.
And maybe he’ll invite him to watch the stars with him.
Adam unlocks his apartment door, aching for more than just food, and rushes to start dinner.
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Logan planned to catch the updraft from the tenth floor, hover in the air for about a minute, then attempt a landing maneuver back onto the building. He expected complications: after all, the maths were complex and didn’t always map 1:1 to the real world.
He planned for them as well.
What he didn’t plan for was dropping like a rock right off the bat.
The moment gravity took hold of Logan after his leap, there was a shared exclamation of expletives. Logan fought the instinct to twist in the air and desperately tried to maneuver the wings into catching a lower draft. There was a parachute on his back, but those were generally meant for higher altitudes and lower loads; the parachute wouldn’t have time to open before Logan hit the ground.
Remus dove after him in the next second, wings extending behind him like an arrow in an attempt to catch up to Logan’s fall. There was this moment that stretched between them - too long, too thin, too fragile.
Logan realized, then: he would be too heavy for Remus to save with the metal wings. With no other time for deliberation, he twisted in the air, unlatching the winged chestplate. The apparatus dropped away and he extended a hand towards Remus’ outstretched one. They grappled momentarily before they managed to grasp hands and then Remus’ wings beat once, sending them hurtling diagonally into a far more controlled fall.
They latched onto each other with both hands, the ground swiftly approaching: Remus’ wings weren’t built for carrying loads. Just like they were taught in kindergarten, the two scientists tumbled onto a grassy patch with matching grunts of pain.
They rolled to a stop.
Silence.
Logan lifted his upper body slightly so he could look at the nearby metal pile of broken dreams miserly.
“I told you this field test was gonna be a rolling show of blood, sweat, and tears,” Remus concluded, winded but grimly cheerful.
The way it works is that some fliers are able to generate a “plumage”, a special type of battle aura that will absorb damage or have its own physical qualities. Unlike normal auras, plumages are inherent in the magical circuits, and can even be activated accidentally. Plumages are often a quirk of genetics, and are present in both natural and constructed wingtypes.
Lex is in the 95th percentile of fliers not only because she’s a bird of paradise class flier, but because the dragon scale plumage characteristic to her "family” of magecraft is both incredibly resilient to damage, and also lets her generate and manipulate fire. Most guns turn into flamethrowers/incindeary launchers in her hands, and when at full power, she can outright breathe fire.
14. Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates?
Lives at the base, for the most part, but her home is with her mom and dad. She never felt the need to really "move out" or "get on her own", b/c the food is good and her room is clean and she can afford it with a soldier's pay :)
49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood?
Lex probably doesn’t like talking about it, but she has nightmares about Steele getting shot down before. Those she doesn’t talk about. She’s also had some nightmares about losing control of herself, which she talks about with her aunt and Steele, and which she’ll probably talk with Rubi about at some point. She’s pretty on top of herself about them, but the nightmares about Steele are what get to her, especially when they’re far apart.
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