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don't sing a lullaby
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To be completely honest, Phoebe had not planned on falling through the sky and looking like a hurtling ball of meat about to get smushed by the ground. She had planned on looking cute in her winter gear, but definitely– definitely not dying via free-falling. Dying via monsters, mistakes, or intervening from the gods, yes. Free-falling, no. Far below, Phoebe saw whatever city was below her in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away, the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth like a badly wired lightbulb.
