Drabble · 1:38am Aug 12th, 2018
Pegasi had a belief. It gave way to tradition, then superstition, and finally to aphorism, but it grain of truth in it persists. That you can tell all you need about someone by the sound of their wings.
That one thrashes the air, clumsy and careless, so much power they've never spent thought on whether they're doing it right. That one is quiet and halting, scared of their own movement, a would-be grace ruined by self-imposed halts and hiccups. And if you have very good ears - which I have - you can hear the scar on that one's right wing by the missing primaries, and how it dips ever so slightly with each beat, never to be the same but gamely continuing on nonetheless.
And so I've met them, these strangers, as they pass. Perhaps, one day, they shall meet me.
New story soon?
Nicely written.
yeet