"Flying Lessons" Index Post
Nov. 12th, 2019 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonesparkOnly one part now but there will be at least one more...
(As usual I would love to commission art!)
(and concrit is welcome, but please don't be mean)
Chapter 1/?
Fandom: Maleficent 2 / MCU (loosely interpreted with a bunch of myth & personal worldbuilding thrown in.)
Rating: Teen? (some later parts will be explicit)
Relationships: Heimdall/Connal
Content Notes: Traumatic injury (temporary, possibly complicated by the whole shapeshifting thing?)
Summary: Flying is tricky
The fae are kin to the elves, and Heimdall's third mother is of that folk. When he was brought to visit Midgard as a child, he often stayed among them, and he still loves to visit. The destruction of their lands is heartbreaking, but the people endure and adapt.
This time, before he approaches the fae nest, he spends time in the ocean, practicing forms old and new. He becomes a shark, then a dolphin, racing through the sea and leaping above it. There are still more forms to try... He tastes* an eel and a ray, and tries those shapes as well.
He sits on a rocky island and contemplates other possibilities. Since his last journey to this world, he has tasted many birds, and worn their shapes well, but flying still proves a challenge. Would it be easier to take the shape of winged wight like one of light elves? That way he could keep the body he knows best while learning to use wings.
He tries it, slowly, creating the wings and opening them carefully. The wind catches them, and before he has fully thought it through, he is leaping from the cliff and soaring out over over the shining waves.
Or... well... that was the idea. The wings are functional, but he still doesn't know how to use them well, and the weight balance is so different in this shape that his earlier practice in bird form hinders as much as it helps. He flaps awkwardly, unable to gain elevation or even steer effectively. After a few minutes he gives up on doing anything but gliding gracefully into the sea and swimming back to shore to try again.
It takes a some time in the sun and wind to get the wings dry enough to trust. The fae don't seem to have this problem. Perhaps with practice they learn to compensate for the difference in weight and lift, or their feathered wings deal better with water.
His second try works better. He swoops back and forth for a while, alighting on the island peak to rest, then venturing out again. As the afternoon wears on, he starts to feel comfortable climbing and diving. The rush of wind as he drops, and the lurching transition to blissful soaring when he opens his wings, are more exhilarating than anything he's felt before. He can't get enough.
His whole body is becoming tired, but he climbs one final time, to the highest level yet, chasing that perfect joy. He waits until the last moment to pull out, but something is wrong. His shoulder muscles cramp and seize, harder on the right, and he plummets toward the waves in an uneven spiral. His wings smack the water one after the other, with snapping, tearing sounds and searing bursts of pain. He could shift if he could breathe, if he could think past the agony, if he knew how to melt away the wings that seem to want to belong with him now. Instead, he sinks.
_______
Heimdall sinks below the waves, but he does not drown. Amid the pain and the swirling darkness, strong arms take hold of him and bear him back to the world of air and light.
"I remember you, Asgardian."
"Heimdall." He croaks his name and dissolves into coughs. Everything hurts. He's lying on a rare patch of soft sand, his head cradled in the lap of his rescuer. The wind is colder than he remembers, whipping along the beach, but he's protected from the worst of it, encircled by dark fae wings.
'Heimdall, yes..." Fingers trace across his brow, the touch gentle and sweet. "Shapeshifter, Shining One... Bad dancer... Good kisser, though, and that counts for quite a bit."
The fae's gaze meets Heimdall's. His eyes are also gold.
"Connal!"
It hurts to move his arm, but it's worth it, to catch Connal's hand and press the palm against his lips. Under the taste of sea salt, the fae's heartbeat flutters. Connal smiles and leans close, careful and quick, kissing the corner of his mouth.
"It's good to have you back. It will be better when you're in one unbroken piece, though. You should have just asked for flying lessons!"
*(Maybe tasting things so you can shapeshift into them is in a lot of things, but I got the idea from the works of Octavia Butler, primarily Wild Seed and the Xenogenesis series.
Def. recommend those, with many content warnings.)
(As usual I would love to commission art!)
(and concrit is welcome, but please don't be mean)
Chapter 1/?
Fandom: Maleficent 2 / MCU (loosely interpreted with a bunch of myth & personal worldbuilding thrown in.)
Rating: Teen? (some later parts will be explicit)
Relationships: Heimdall/Connal
Content Notes: Traumatic injury (temporary, possibly complicated by the whole shapeshifting thing?)
Summary: Flying is tricky
The fae are kin to the elves, and Heimdall's third mother is of that folk. When he was brought to visit Midgard as a child, he often stayed among them, and he still loves to visit. The destruction of their lands is heartbreaking, but the people endure and adapt.
This time, before he approaches the fae nest, he spends time in the ocean, practicing forms old and new. He becomes a shark, then a dolphin, racing through the sea and leaping above it. There are still more forms to try... He tastes* an eel and a ray, and tries those shapes as well.
He sits on a rocky island and contemplates other possibilities. Since his last journey to this world, he has tasted many birds, and worn their shapes well, but flying still proves a challenge. Would it be easier to take the shape of winged wight like one of light elves? That way he could keep the body he knows best while learning to use wings.
He tries it, slowly, creating the wings and opening them carefully. The wind catches them, and before he has fully thought it through, he is leaping from the cliff and soaring out over over the shining waves.
Or... well... that was the idea. The wings are functional, but he still doesn't know how to use them well, and the weight balance is so different in this shape that his earlier practice in bird form hinders as much as it helps. He flaps awkwardly, unable to gain elevation or even steer effectively. After a few minutes he gives up on doing anything but gliding gracefully into the sea and swimming back to shore to try again.
It takes a some time in the sun and wind to get the wings dry enough to trust. The fae don't seem to have this problem. Perhaps with practice they learn to compensate for the difference in weight and lift, or their feathered wings deal better with water.
His second try works better. He swoops back and forth for a while, alighting on the island peak to rest, then venturing out again. As the afternoon wears on, he starts to feel comfortable climbing and diving. The rush of wind as he drops, and the lurching transition to blissful soaring when he opens his wings, are more exhilarating than anything he's felt before. He can't get enough.
His whole body is becoming tired, but he climbs one final time, to the highest level yet, chasing that perfect joy. He waits until the last moment to pull out, but something is wrong. His shoulder muscles cramp and seize, harder on the right, and he plummets toward the waves in an uneven spiral. His wings smack the water one after the other, with snapping, tearing sounds and searing bursts of pain. He could shift if he could breathe, if he could think past the agony, if he knew how to melt away the wings that seem to want to belong with him now. Instead, he sinks.
_______
Heimdall sinks below the waves, but he does not drown. Amid the pain and the swirling darkness, strong arms take hold of him and bear him back to the world of air and light.
"I remember you, Asgardian."
"Heimdall." He croaks his name and dissolves into coughs. Everything hurts. He's lying on a rare patch of soft sand, his head cradled in the lap of his rescuer. The wind is colder than he remembers, whipping along the beach, but he's protected from the worst of it, encircled by dark fae wings.
'Heimdall, yes..." Fingers trace across his brow, the touch gentle and sweet. "Shapeshifter, Shining One... Bad dancer... Good kisser, though, and that counts for quite a bit."
The fae's gaze meets Heimdall's. His eyes are also gold.
"Connal!"
It hurts to move his arm, but it's worth it, to catch Connal's hand and press the palm against his lips. Under the taste of sea salt, the fae's heartbeat flutters. Connal smiles and leans close, careful and quick, kissing the corner of his mouth.
"It's good to have you back. It will be better when you're in one unbroken piece, though. You should have just asked for flying lessons!"
*(Maybe tasting things so you can shapeshift into them is in a lot of things, but I got the idea from the works of Octavia Butler, primarily Wild Seed and the Xenogenesis series.
Def. recommend those, with many content warnings.)
