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// Chapter 15: Wings 
// Story: Millennial Heartstrings 
// by The Apologetic Pony 
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I awoke well before Lealla did, but I could hardly blame her after what she’d dealt with last night. So I took the liberty to look around the flat in a bit more detail. Some of the books included titles such as “ Twenty Bets You’ll Always Win” “A Griffin's Guide To Equestria” “Structures Of Government,” and some peculiar fiction novels involving monkeys, carrying too heavy a layer of dust to have been picked up recently. Ignoring the obvious, and apparently to deciding outrageously speculate from there, she was interested in money, but not work. Keen to learn the differences between species, maybe the foreign in general; I was about as foreign as it would get, for no phoenix lived in the Griffin Kingdom. The wardrobe, like much of the abode, was fairly bare, but it was to be expected, I suppose. There were some disused hats, but they were neither here nor there. For a moment I saw the bottles scattered about the bed, then disappointedly demolished the illusion I’d started to construct. Lealla was not him, and he was long gone -- except for the name that haunted me... So its foundations remained, stark; unmoveable. I made sure to remind myself to be weary of the traps I’d bury myself in. I knew I would, all I need do, is survive a little longer. But this mantra of mine was losing meaning in every passing moment.  

For me, the object of greatest intrigue was the map of the Griffin Kingdom, as nearly all the borders were radically changed from what I last knew, albeit centuries ago; the names too. A moderately unusual way to remind herself of where she came from, I’d guess.

In a growing boredom, I found myself poking at her side. And when that didn’t rouse the griffin, I went on to prod more and more insistently, yet still, she remained in her slumber. Only groaning at the hazy idea of returning to consciousness. Becoming increasingly disgruntled by Leallas stubborn refusal to see the light of day, I tried slumping onto her back, likely with a bit more force than I should have. But it worked, so it was alright, as it were. After some shuffling around, she grumbled: 

‘Talk about a harsh alarm clock man. You could have just poked me or something.’

Eventually dragging herself off the bed, Lealla mumbled something about food, gathered some legal tender, then left the place. This being Baltimare, there was no shortage of the carnivorous diet griffins lived upon. Some were secluded, but the griffins and their food had been around long enough to have been deemed friendly by our settled equines. I went with her to an eatery and she told me about how she’d come to be here between gulps of pig. The smell of it was quite particular, I might have found it sickly if it were a little stronger.

I learned she was living on from money overseas from her parents, who as fairly senior politicians, were tethered to their positions. They’d told her to get a job, to eventually have her living off her own wages. They’d wanted her to make the arduous journey here, for the “sophistication” she’d get, for the lifestyle -- whatever. But I knew before she said, that the currency of the griffins transferred favorably into Equestrian money, almost three to one. As for what she was actually doing: Lealla spoke as if her parents had ears in every corner.

‘I’ve been screwing around for a year-ish now; they’ll send me plenty more before anyone starts complaining. I hope. But it’s fun, y’know? So, hush hush yeah?’

I imagined that ‘screwing around’ was leading a bunch of griffins that liked playing in the streets and experimenting with relationships. Not all of which had been successful sadly, though inevitable. It all sounded like serious work to me.    

When she was satiated I think all we did was go around town involving boring stuff. Shopping, renewing insurance, that sort of a thing. I do remember her buying some seeds for me though; I thought that was quite nice of her. Nothing of mention happened until the sun started to fall. And when it did, back to the Gliders we went. We were the first to arrive that time, the etched grooves on the ledges and walls artistically lined the path griffins would take. Some ended up leading far out of sight while others neatly returned to their starting point. There were many branches, enough so -- in places, it became difficult to distinguish where one crossed into another.

The others trickled in, showing keen curiosity for the phoenix perched atop of Lealla’s back. Nile was one of the last; the two avians, the fighters, Foghorn and Snake were nowhere to be seen. Impressive nobody claimed ‘good riddance.’ The Gliders were disorganisedly scattered about the grounds; despite their interest in me, they just wanted to get running. Lealla decided to make a superfluously grand introduction, for she who had yet to be named.   

‘This is... phoenix.’ It did turn out to be a little anticlimactic.

She tried to whisper me to do something impressive, but most of them heard anyway. So I pecked her head instead, gently, of course. They laughed, to my relief, she soon joined them.
After a brief moment, one of the Gliders called out:

‘Doesn’t she have a name Lealla?’

‘How do you know it is a she,’ asked another.

‘Her plume!’ answered Nile, who was stretching his legs out in the corner.

Lealla and everyone else noticed my distinct lack of a plume.

‘She does have one.’

‘But we don’t know it yet! Get guessing guys!’ Nile yelled out of nowhere, getting him blank looks and shrugs. After the awkward silence, they all just got on with their business, but an occasional name would ring out from what was now a graceful flurry of flips, vaults, rolls and twists -- all with wings clipped firmly to sides. I quickly found myself mesmerised; enveloped by, an almost childlike wonder at their movements... incredible. Nile mouthed ‘sorry’, before bounding off into the distance.

‘I hope we do get to hear it someday.’ Lealla said, a little disappointed.

Many of them took the fun outside the ‘playground’. Though I soon realised, that the entire city was theirs to traverse, from the ledges here to structures miles away. This was undoubtedly the hub, but they ran as pleased. 

‘Think I’ll go run too. You want a race don’t you? Course you do,’ she giggled.

The griffin playfully threw me off her back and instantly started clambering onto I ledge that I remembered from the tour she’d given me was in the direction of docks, or at least the open ocean. That beautiful, open, ocean. I had no idea where finish was to be, only that there was no race to speak of. She’d never outpace me tethered to the ground, leaping over, under, or around obstacles nonexistent in flight. Not even the most agile of creatures could do that. So it was an invitation for fun? I was happy with that.

Despite my of presumptions (or perhaps in spite of!) Lealla was impressively speedy. It appeared she knew the route she took as well as wings she flew with, already tensed to push off walls before the corners, reaching out for bars that were not yet in sight, even jumping before she saw an edge. But she did see it, as clear as her the friends she had been immersed with. The path she took, and by markings, few else did cut the city into a lopsided triangle, going between the ‘hub’ (for lack of a better name), to the port, through the park and back again. The fisherponies who were still out gave her toothy smiles, as if to dismiss their hard day’s work as but a passing errand. The other residences paid no mind to her, quietly going about their late shopping. And the few officers that saw her feigned itching for their batton, but did not give chance, they weren’t foolish enough to try to catch an arrow in motion. The runner didn’t notice, entranced in the dance, held in comparatively ritualistic proportions than the rest of the world. Which was, in turn, a blur of moonlighted streets. I was strangely detached from it all, looking at Baltimare below.

She got back drenched in sweat; exhausted, though before resting next to that same wall she still had the strength to gasp: ‘You beat me.’  

Had Lealla expected to win? Did she think my muscle was puny to the point of being more inept than the sum of her disadvantages? I hadn’t thought of her as irrational as this, but by no means was it beyond what I found endearing. I was learning that these were the quirks that made mortals who they were. Not the suffocatingly neutral masks we wore. Their honesty had not yet been corrupted and I hoped it never would be: I still do.

I perched on her folded leg and felt her heaving in severe effort to get more air. Obviously, she’d pushed herself hard, more than she’d care to admit. But the bodies trembles did not lie and being where I was, I could feel them all. It’s very intimate like that, being perched on someone. pleasant, don’t misunderstand me, it just requires an awful lot of trust, perhaps admiration, not to feel awkward. It didn’t though... I don’t think.  

While she recovered, we watched all the Gliders pass by. Some stopped to have long conversations about the most random of topics. Others settled for a quick greeting before returning to practice. And eager competitors challenged each other to races across the urban hills. Apparently they had a very organic group structure.

Nile returned from his own miniature journey, sneering and flaring his wings in triumphant victory, until the every griffin around was irritatedly denouncing his flaunting. At which point embarrassed, he dropped the act, coming over to see us. A moderate look of concern came over his face when he saw the state of Lealla.

‘I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t go on that run again.’ He sat down to our left.

‘I’m fine see? I know what I’m doing Nile, you don’t need to look after me anymore.’

‘I know Lealla, its just, I...‘

‘Just what?’

‘It’s just that I don’t want to see you get hurt again.’ He said, nervously jumbling his words up into a much less coherent sentence than they could have been. It rang odd. Lealla picked up on it too, pausing and looking into his eyes before she spoke. The words were heartfelt but they were so rushed, it was as if he hadn’t been meaning to say what he said. As if, he’d been meaning to say something else, something quite different.

‘Nile, come here.’ She flicked me off her leg.

Lealla wrapped her wing around him, then amorously preened his dark wing, as what a kiss is to a pony.