She took off, smooth. It felt like an elevator kicking into motion, except we kept going faster, had the wind in our faces.
My first time flying, if you discounted the experience of riding a mutant dog as it leapt from a building, which was sort of half-flying.
I mean… in that situation, you did essentially fall and miss the ground by having the dogs leap off the side of the building before landing. According to Douglas Adams and satellites, that’s arguably flying.
It wasn’t half as exhilirating as I’d thought the experience would be. Tainted by the sombre, tense mood, the sting of the rain and the bitter chill that went straight through my damp costume and mask.
That’s a damn shame.
Each time she adjusted her hold on me, I had to fight that deep primal instinct that told me I was going to fall to my death. She was adjusting her grip a lot, too – she didn’t have superstrength, and I couldn’t have been easy to carry, especially soaking wet.
Fair. That’s the downside to having someone closer to her own age carrying Skitter, I suppose.
Krixwell Liveblogs 