♡. . . aliferous

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aliferous ( adj. ) - having wings

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ now playing ; geronimo by sheppard


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𝘊𝘜𝘌 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘎𝘖𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘋𝘐𝘌 ,  𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘐𝘛
𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘉𝘈𝘉𝘓𝘠 𝘌𝘊𝘏𝘖'𝘚 𝘍𝘈𝘜𝘓𝘛


At least, that's what she thought anyway.

"This is quite easily, the worst idea you've ever had!"

"Well at least I had an idea," gripping the base of the passenger seat, Echo could feel the nails of her hands dig into leather, firing back an angry retort at the driver, "what exactly have you been bringing to the table, idea wise, Cue?" She was perfectly aware her tone had turned accusing, but to be fair, it had been the only idea they had.

And where had that led them, you might ask? Only in an anxiety-inducing car chase down wooded forest roads, with an unconscious body in the backseat, and sirens bleeding through the air. Loud enough to make her head ring in response. But, in her defense, this had been her only idea. Admittedly not the best idea she'd ever had, but it had worked in movies! So, why not real life? Cue's mouth turned into a scowl, one that was a common sight for Echo. Good news, at the least. He was frustrated, but not angry.

She watched as his gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, muttering some kind of curse under his breath as a calloused hand hovered over the gear shift. "You've been flying right?"

"What?" No, she'd heard him just fine, but what exactly was Cue planning here?? Certainly not something that involved them flying off into the air. With an unconscious body, nevertheless.

"You've been flying right??" His words came out gritted, but she saw the concentration on his face, the pressure to get this just right. Because if he didn't, well, then they'd likely end up all splattered somewhere, and Cue would have to orchestrate yet another explanation as to what they were doing, and how they somehow survived a devastating car crash. Off a cliff. Going over 80 miles an hour.

Echo's own voice came out half-hearted, a strained answer of affirmation, paired with a quick nod. Of course she had. Cue always made sure she went on at least one flight a week. The immortal didn't even spare her a glance, looking once again towards the mirror, dust flying up behind them so thick, it was nearly impossible to make out the piercing lights of the sirens that followed. Her chest grew tight with anxiety, fingers dug into the worn leather of the car they were driving. It was a wonder this car hadn't flown off the side of the spiraling roads by now. Pressing the thoughts away, she looked again towards Cupid, whose knuckles were white with the grip he had on the wheel, obsessively glancing back.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 -- 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐂Where stories live. Discover now