[ the small pop of a pistol down below would’ve barely been heard thanks to the roar of winds by his ears, and perhaps not even the pain would’ve stopped falco from gliding (titans don’t feel pain when it’s not inflicted on their true bodies)— his arm reacts oddly when he bends his wings into another clap to climb away from the houses, though— it refuses to bend the way he needs it to. a look sideways easily catches a hole that stains golden feathers red, the inside joint of the ulna and digits fissure and cracks with force of his attempted beat. it doesn’t hurt, but he’s far smaller than he’s used to: larger than shaquille o’neal by a foot and more prone to external damage, unlike the massive five meters that would hardly feel the dent.
the bird barks, and begins to descend while holding a glide that would have to do for an emergency landing like a plane shutting off its motors and piloting on luck, skill and the wind. it looks like he’s eying archer’s backyard to make the final touch down, especially with how low he was, sticking out feathered legs and taloned feet—
only non-neighbors would realize something odd enough to shoot at it, and all he knows about that particular house is the dog he hears barking. ]
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the bird barks, and begins to descend while holding a glide that would have to do for an emergency landing like a plane shutting off its motors and piloting on luck, skill and the wind. it looks like he’s eying archer’s backyard to make the final touch down, especially with how low he was, sticking out feathered legs and taloned feet—
only non-neighbors would realize something odd enough to shoot at it, and all he knows about that particular house is the dog he hears barking. ]