Uriel blinked a bit at the request. to him it sounded about the same as though he'd asked Pestilence to tell him what it was like to walk. He decided to do his best, though. for some reason Pestilence's position didn't seem strange to him; rather it felt just... natural... that the horseman would be that way, so close to him.
"it's hard to describe," he said, a bit hesitant -- not because he didn't want to let Pestilence know, but because it was really, really hard to tell about flying to somebody who had never experienced it. "At first you must spread your wings, of course. If they have been folded until then, it is a great relief, at least to me -- I usually keep them out all the time, so it's been rather hard to be here where I have to keep them hidden because of all the humans. It's like -- well, I suppose it could be like having worn too small shoes for ages and then finally taking them off." Not that he'd ever experienced such a thing, of course, but he was trying to find some comparisons Pestilence might be familiar with or at least understand. "The freedom you feel at being able to spread them wide and feel the air on them -- it's incredible."
He paused for a moment, then continued, "Next comes naturally the take-off. It's the hardest thing, having to separate yourself from the ground -- not because it's that difficult or really hard, mind you, but because you have to kind of throw yourself into it. It's not like jumping up into the air, more like leaping down from a cliff, the direction's just different. Abandoning the security of the ground and gravity... it's sometimes rather hard.
"So, after a few beats of the wings -- and perhaps a kick to the ground for aid on the take-off -- you are finally in the air. And let me tell you, the feeling is incredible." He closed his eyes, smiling dreamily as he thought of all the times he had flown. Even his trip to the St. James' Park felt almost pleasant when he only concentrated on the memories of the flight. "You don't have to do much to keep yourself in the air -- angels and demons are very light by nature exactly for this reason. Once you get higher you can feel the wind, feel every shift of the air on the surface of your wing, between the feathers, everywhere. Wings are very sensitive."
At some point -- he couldn't recall exactly when -- his hand had wandered from Pestilence's shoulder into the horseman's hair, caressing the fluffy white strands gently. Soft and white -- just like wings. Opening his eyes again, he looked down at the other being, the dreamy smile still on his lips.
"In the air you are really, completely free. Nothing can tie you anywhere. Imagine wind going through your hair, messing it up, caressing your skin at the same time -- that feels about the same as it touching your wings. At least it's the closest I can compare it with.
"The act of flying itself, well, it is hard to describe. It requires several muscles in both your chest and back that wingless creatures simply don't have. If you can, imagine another pair of arms you have to move around -- that's about the closest you can get to it, although it's not exactly like that, either."
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"it's hard to describe," he said, a bit hesitant -- not because he didn't want to let Pestilence know, but because it was really, really hard to tell about flying to somebody who had never experienced it. "At first you must spread your wings, of course. If they have been folded until then, it is a great relief, at least to me -- I usually keep them out all the time, so it's been rather hard to be here where I have to keep them hidden because of all the humans. It's like -- well, I suppose it could be like having worn too small shoes for ages and then finally taking them off." Not that he'd ever experienced such a thing, of course, but he was trying to find some comparisons Pestilence might be familiar with or at least understand. "The freedom you feel at being able to spread them wide and feel the air on them -- it's incredible."
He paused for a moment, then continued, "Next comes naturally the take-off. It's the hardest thing, having to separate yourself from the ground -- not because it's that difficult or really hard, mind you, but because you have to kind of throw yourself into it. It's not like jumping up into the air, more like leaping down from a cliff, the direction's just different. Abandoning the security of the ground and gravity... it's sometimes rather hard.
"So, after a few beats of the wings -- and perhaps a kick to the ground for aid on the take-off -- you are finally in the air. And let me tell you, the feeling is incredible." He closed his eyes, smiling dreamily as he thought of all the times he had flown. Even his trip to the St. James' Park felt almost pleasant when he only concentrated on the memories of the flight. "You don't have to do much to keep yourself in the air -- angels and demons are very light by nature exactly for this reason. Once you get higher you can feel the wind, feel every shift of the air on the surface of your wing, between the feathers, everywhere. Wings are very sensitive."
At some point -- he couldn't recall exactly when -- his hand had wandered from Pestilence's shoulder into the horseman's hair, caressing the fluffy white strands gently. Soft and white -- just like wings. Opening his eyes again, he looked down at the other being, the dreamy smile still on his lips.
"In the air you are really, completely free. Nothing can tie you anywhere. Imagine wind going through your hair, messing it up, caressing your skin at the same time -- that feels about the same as it touching your wings. At least it's the closest I can compare it with.
"The act of flying itself, well, it is hard to describe. It requires several muscles in both your chest and back that wingless creatures simply don't have. If you can, imagine another pair of arms you have to move around -- that's about the closest you can get to it, although it's not exactly like that, either."