24th of Saun
Horses never had this issue. Hell, for all the complaints their riders gave, falling from a horse was nowhere near as bad as they all said it was. What was a couple of feet, perhaps a sprained ankle or a few broken ribs if it was a particularly bad fall? At least you walked away at all.
They'd never know the horrors of losing your grip several hundred feet up in the air. "Roll back, roll back!" he screamed as he felt Traveller dip his left wing and quickly spin back to an upright position. Both arms clung tight around the Sohr Khal's neck and refused to loosen an inch until he found the bridle again and had it safely gripped in both hands. Perhaps it was a bit of an over-reaction, in hindsight; not only was his saddle fitted with leather cords that snapped to his back and waist, but straps at his ankles also meant he'd never actually fall, even if they were forced to dive straight down; a maneuvoure he was no stranger to, but still not something he enjoyed. Especially when not gripping the only thing that actually kept control over the Sohr Khal.
"You know he's not actually going to plummet straight into the earth if you don't tell him to pull up," Greyhide muttered dryly. The wolf was sat somewhere far below, watching and occasionally grooming himself while Cold lounged in the sun and Myrth played hide-and-seek with Jasper. They couldn't care less if he dropped to his death, they'd probably just keep playing, using his corpse for a disguise... "Focus," the wolf commanded sternly. "Let him do the riding for once." Sure, it was easy to say that from all the way down there on nice solid ground. Deep breaths, that's what he said right? Deep breaths. In and out. He could do this, he'd done it before. Back when he'd nearly died fighting off a load of skeletons charging at helpless villagers, the adrenaline had kicked in and he'd summoned the courage to fight them off. Or, well, Traveller had, while Nir'wei had sat on his back yelling commands. He could do this.
Leaning forward drew them down into a dive - Traveller's wings tucking close to his body with only the exposed tips used for the barest hint of guidance. Wind whipped painfully at his face and pushed at his chest, threatening to snatch him from the saddle. It wasn't the speed that frightened him, or the wind slapping at his face and hair. Traveller's angle meant he had a very clear view of the streets of Rharne far below, slowly growing wider as he flew to met them. He couldn't look away or he risked pulling away at the wrong moment and ruining the manoeuvre, but he knew full-well what he was looking at. Death. His own. One slip of the straps, Traveller accidentally dipping into a down-draft and opening his wings a little too late, and they'd slam into the stone slabs with enough force that neither of their bodies would ever be fully separated. You could survive a sword, an arrow, drowning, burning if you were lucky - but you could never survive a fall like this. Knowing that, he had to watch as he fell to his potential death... and pass what little scrap of control he had left over to Traveller. No pressure. He could do this.
One hand peeled from the reins and quickly reached down to the shortbow buckled to the side of the saddle, flipping the leather strap holding the handle and drawing it up under his arm in his practiced pose. They'd begun at an exceptional height, but even now he could start to make out the hats on the people below and there was still the hardest part to go. The other hand almost refused to listen to his request, wrapped around the reins in a white-knuckle grip and inches away from tugging Traveller back up. A few people in the street below were starting to look up, he might have heard shouting but making out the words above the roar of wind was beyond him. He just needed to reach for his arrow, aim, draw...
He couldn't. Traveller was just a little faster, pulling back and spreading his wings wide still well above the city moments before he tugged sharply on the reins and drew them higher, swooping in a tight loop and levelling out facing the Glass Quarter. Here, on a level glide, he could release the reins without an issue. He could even shoot with a very vague idea of where the arrow might go, as long as there weren't any unexpected jolts. Shooting during evasive moves, though... while they dipped, curved and dove in the heat of an actual aerial battle, that was something he'd never come close to accomplishing. "You lack balance," Archailist had told him, as if he knew what he was talking about. "You don't ride, you just sit on his back. A real rider moves with their mount, flowing with the ride, anticipating where they'll move next and acting accordingly." He knew the squirrel was just repeating what Poppy and Gaspard told every green Skyrider about Volareon riding, but it didn't make it any less true. "Up," he told Traveller, pulling them from the glide and beginning to ascend the airspace over the Earth Quarter. Time to try again.
Horses never had this issue. Hell, for all the complaints their riders gave, falling from a horse was nowhere near as bad as they all said it was. What was a couple of feet, perhaps a sprained ankle or a few broken ribs if it was a particularly bad fall? At least you walked away at all.
They'd never know the horrors of losing your grip several hundred feet up in the air. "Roll back, roll back!" he screamed as he felt Traveller dip his left wing and quickly spin back to an upright position. Both arms clung tight around the Sohr Khal's neck and refused to loosen an inch until he found the bridle again and had it safely gripped in both hands. Perhaps it was a bit of an over-reaction, in hindsight; not only was his saddle fitted with leather cords that snapped to his back and waist, but straps at his ankles also meant he'd never actually fall, even if they were forced to dive straight down; a maneuvoure he was no stranger to, but still not something he enjoyed. Especially when not gripping the only thing that actually kept control over the Sohr Khal.
"You know he's not actually going to plummet straight into the earth if you don't tell him to pull up," Greyhide muttered dryly. The wolf was sat somewhere far below, watching and occasionally grooming himself while Cold lounged in the sun and Myrth played hide-and-seek with Jasper. They couldn't care less if he dropped to his death, they'd probably just keep playing, using his corpse for a disguise... "Focus," the wolf commanded sternly. "Let him do the riding for once." Sure, it was easy to say that from all the way down there on nice solid ground. Deep breaths, that's what he said right? Deep breaths. In and out. He could do this, he'd done it before. Back when he'd nearly died fighting off a load of skeletons charging at helpless villagers, the adrenaline had kicked in and he'd summoned the courage to fight them off. Or, well, Traveller had, while Nir'wei had sat on his back yelling commands. He could do this.
Leaning forward drew them down into a dive - Traveller's wings tucking close to his body with only the exposed tips used for the barest hint of guidance. Wind whipped painfully at his face and pushed at his chest, threatening to snatch him from the saddle. It wasn't the speed that frightened him, or the wind slapping at his face and hair. Traveller's angle meant he had a very clear view of the streets of Rharne far below, slowly growing wider as he flew to met them. He couldn't look away or he risked pulling away at the wrong moment and ruining the manoeuvre, but he knew full-well what he was looking at. Death. His own. One slip of the straps, Traveller accidentally dipping into a down-draft and opening his wings a little too late, and they'd slam into the stone slabs with enough force that neither of their bodies would ever be fully separated. You could survive a sword, an arrow, drowning, burning if you were lucky - but you could never survive a fall like this. Knowing that, he had to watch as he fell to his potential death... and pass what little scrap of control he had left over to Traveller. No pressure. He could do this.
One hand peeled from the reins and quickly reached down to the shortbow buckled to the side of the saddle, flipping the leather strap holding the handle and drawing it up under his arm in his practiced pose. They'd begun at an exceptional height, but even now he could start to make out the hats on the people below and there was still the hardest part to go. The other hand almost refused to listen to his request, wrapped around the reins in a white-knuckle grip and inches away from tugging Traveller back up. A few people in the street below were starting to look up, he might have heard shouting but making out the words above the roar of wind was beyond him. He just needed to reach for his arrow, aim, draw...
He couldn't. Traveller was just a little faster, pulling back and spreading his wings wide still well above the city moments before he tugged sharply on the reins and drew them higher, swooping in a tight loop and levelling out facing the Glass Quarter. Here, on a level glide, he could release the reins without an issue. He could even shoot with a very vague idea of where the arrow might go, as long as there weren't any unexpected jolts. Shooting during evasive moves, though... while they dipped, curved and dove in the heat of an actual aerial battle, that was something he'd never come close to accomplishing. "You lack balance," Archailist had told him, as if he knew what he was talking about. "You don't ride, you just sit on his back. A real rider moves with their mount, flowing with the ride, anticipating where they'll move next and acting accordingly." He knew the squirrel was just repeating what Poppy and Gaspard told every green Skyrider about Volareon riding, but it didn't make it any less true. "Up," he told Traveller, pulling them from the glide and beginning to ascend the airspace over the Earth Quarter. Time to try again.
