Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is only when they begin to fall that they realise how high up they are right now and how long it has been since last they fell from such a height. They can feel the distance, not to the rope meant to catch them, but the distance to the ground that is so very, very far below this floating city. 

Gable is used to being in the sky. Even before joining the Uhuru, Gable had been on their share of skyships, had flown around on griffinback as easily as if they were a bird themself. Gable is used to having height on those around them. Even with their feet planted on solid ground, they stand taller than any human they have met. 

This is not merely height, though. This is not merely sky. They are falling. It is not even the simple sort of fall where they misjudge the ground beneath their feet or trip over their own feet. The ground is not a near and sturdy thing that is barely any distance from them. Nor is this the kind of skyfall where they know that a griffin is soon to catch them, or that they will catch themself on the side of a ship. This fall is unknown and uncontrolled. Their stomach is dropping and lurching as though a magnet has formed within it, growing heavier with each foot they fall, urging them down, down to the earth. As if they are water made to return to the sea. Like things to like things. They belong down , they are made to fall, and they do not want it. 

Their instincts scream to fly, fly, fly , and fly they do. 

Or at least, they try to do. 

The pain is horrible when their body remembers what their instincts did not. They are certain they scream words that no mortal has ever known and they know they will never speak  even an ounce of this pain to another beyond this scream. It radiates within them, vibrating and shaking through their bones (do they even have bones? They’ve never stopped to wonder before. But they must have bones; they can feel the way this pain caresses and envelopes every fibre of them. It gnaws at every layer of their being, every bone, every muscle, every nerve.)

They try to fly. But despite how their friends may refer to them, they are not an angel. 

Angels can fly. Gable does not fly. 

Gable is only fallen.