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The wind pulled Martin’s hair in front of his eyes, tugging at his clothes as if it was trying to drag him towards the precipice looming in front of him. It probably was. But Martin had gone through too much to be afraid of some evil wind. He turned to Jon, who still looked deeply concentrated on trying to find a solution to their conundrum.
“We can… turn back?” Martin offered hopefully. “Maybe it’s an illusion?”
Jon shook his head. “No, the second we stepped into this domain, the earth changed. We couldn’t just head back the way we came.”
“Dream logic, I know.”
The pair was standing on a tall, spindly looking jut of rock. It was covered in a thin layer of grass and had one lone tree growing out of its surface, and was completely and utterly detached from all other land masses. Looking over the edge of the spire, Martin felt his stomach drop. It was so far down the floor - if there even was one - vanished beneath a dark shroud of shadow.
Jon was hunched over, long fingers pressed against his eyelids as he tried to find a solution.
Far, so far away Martin wasn’t even sure it was real, he could see a wall of rock. Supposedly, that was what they had to reach to keep going on their journey.
“Are you sure you don’t have any useful Archivist powers?” Martin asked again. They’d been stranded there for what felt like a long time.
“I’m trying, Martin.” Jon’s voice was strained, his shoulders tense as he gritted out words.
“I mean, can you… smite the rock?”
“Smite… the rock,” Jon repeated, incredulous. “The one that we are currently standing on? That one?”
“I didn’t see you coming up with ideas, Mr. All Powerful Archivist; God Of A Ruined World.” Jon had the audacity to actually laugh, reaching out to take Martin’s hand.
“I have a couple theories but… none of them seem particularly safe.”
“How many of them involve not falling off this cliff and hoping for the best?”
“I don’t know if it's really a cliff...”
“Oh shut up.”
Jon pulled a face at him then went back to concentrating. The apocalypse had changed him physically, as well as the clear psychological effects. His primaries, secondaries, and tail feathers were each adorned with the same floating green eyes that formed a halo around his head. His eyes shone bright orange and green and Martin had found a new way to interpret his mood, since they flashed or dimmed depending on how he felt.
Martin approached the edge again, spurred on by a sort of morbid curiosity. God, it really was very far down. He couldn’t imagine the horror of being trapped here, never hitting the bottom.
That was the last proper thought that crossed his mind before the ground below his feet crumbled and he was plummeting down into the void, wind whipping at his face and whistling in his ears. It sounded pleased to see him.
He distantly heard Jon cry out his name and there was a blur of motion in the corner of his eye, lit with flashes of green and a bit of orange. The terror of knowing Jon was plunging down with him came and mingled with the all-consuming dread and animalistic panic. Jon had barely been able to get off the ground before the Hunger set in and he wasn’t even able to leave the cabin, Martin held very little hopes of him being able to catch himself and fly back up to safety.
He knew his boyfriend was effectively immortal, but he couldn’t see a situation where that made this any better for either of them. They were both going to plummet forever.
Martin had long since shut his eyes, tears streaming across his face and slipping off his cheekbones, leaving a trail where he fell.
Then, suddenly, there were arms around his chest and he felt a sudden shift in the air around him. It stilled so abruptly Martin barely realized it until a moment later. He opened his eyes and saw Jon clutching him tightly, wings heaving as he lifted them both higher and higher back into the air.
His wingbeats were loud and Martin felt the air swooshing past him with every one. At first, he’d wondered if Jon should maybe be an owl, and not a pigeon. Owls were known to represent wisdom, afterall, and their wings were designed for completely silent hunting. He couldn’t imagine Jon as anything but a pigeon now, though. The loud strokes as they progressed upwards seemed more right than silent flight.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Martin looked around. They had passed the spire they were stranded on before and Martin looked at the strange, jagged edges of the platform and understood that was how it got its victims, caving the stone beneath their feet. He wondered just how many people were trapped here, since he could confidently assume this crag and the land mass so far away were once connected.
Jon appeared to be flying towards the cliff face in the distance, though all of their bags were still in a heap under the tree.
They made it to the looming rock face eventually. Jon set Martin down gently before collapsing onto the ground. He clearly did not yet know how to land.
“Are you alright?” Jon asked immediately, rushing over to Martin the second he got his feet back under him. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
Martin took Jon’s hands, which were fluttering nervously around his face. “I’m… not fine. I’m not hurt, at least. I just… need a moment.”
“Of course.” Jon pulled his hands away and started walking to the edge of the cliff.
“Where are you going?”
“You said you needed a moment, I was gonna… what?”
“Not without you, come back here.”
Jon did so, looking considerably embarrassed. Martin pulled him into a hug, and felt his heart beating triple time, in sync with Martin’s own panicked rhythm.
Slowly, the adrenaline faded out of him, and he could moved away from Jon, taking his face in his hands.
“Jon,” he said, voice frankly giddy. “You were flying!!”
Jon’s eyes were still wide and slightly dimmed, which meant his mind partly elsewhere, but he blinked and his focus returned to Martin. He smiled wide and nodded, stretching out his wings behind him and giving them a powerful flap.
“Probably better to learn over a drop,” he said. “That’s how baby birds do it, after all.”
“So I was right, then, about trying on the roof of Daisy’s safehouse?”
“I maintain that it would not have gone so well then.” Jon held up fingers as he went on to enumerate his point. “I am considerably more powerful now; was encouraged by adrenaline; had-”
“You’re an arse.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”
They sat together for a minute, just enjoying the fact that neither of them had died in the ordeal. Jon insisted they couldn’t die in this new world he’d created, but that couldn’t get rid of the natural fear that followed every mortal creature around, especially in the literal apocalypse.
“I should go get our stuff,” Jon said, standing up.
“You’re sure you’re fine to fly all the way there and back?”
“It’s not like we have much of a choice.” He softened when he saw the look Martin was giving him. “I’ll be fine. It’s good to stretch my wings, you know?”
Martin sat back and watched his boyfriend traverse an actual hellscape with only wings that up until that point he hadn’t really been able to use. The distress Jon so often caused him settled in it’s comfortable place against his ribcage like a friendly cat.
It was fine, though. Martin watched the green speck that was Jon as he traversed the giant chasm, fingers twisting into worried knots. Then Jon returned, his features slowly coming into focus as he approached. Martin’s bag was slung over one shoulder, his own clutched tightly to his chest.
Jon skidded to a halt, the landing already better than last time. He handed Martin his bag then dropped his on the ground. His eyes were distant, foggy.
“Jon?” Martin said gently, moving to stand next to him. Jon didn’t look up to meet his eye. “Jon, are you alright?”
There seemed to be a brief moment of deliberation in Jon’s eyes before he took off at a sprint to the edge of the cliff and, in one smooth motion, tossed himself off it backwards.
Martin’s heart stopped. He felt his breath get stuck in his chest as shock and horror slammed into him, staring mutely at the spot where the love of his life had just chucked himself into the void.
There was a horrifying moment of silence before Martin got his legs to work, running to the edge of the gorge. Then, in a sudden burst of feathers and movement, Jon shot back up into the sky.
Martin managed to halt at the lip of the ravine, one wrong move from tumbling back down into its depths. He couldn’t bring himself to care though, all his attention fixed instead on Jon, who was flying in large looping circles in the sky, plunging down then rocketing back up again.
Martin heard a whoop as he dropped down into the ravine from so high up Martin had almost lost sight of him. It was…
He didn’t quite know what to feel as he watched his boyfriend fly, enthralled by the currents of air surrounding him.
He’d wondered where the wings had come from, if they were a punishment from the Eye or maybe a manifestation of some other power. He’d wondered about the Flesh when he thought back to the way he’d found Jon that day, but with the blank look in his eyes before, he wondered about the Vast maybe having its hand in it.
He would obviously never tell Jon his thoughts about the origin of his wings. Jon had been particularly upset after the Watcher’s Crown and had tried to tear his own feathers out. When asked why, he’d just repeated that he was an archangel pigeon and that it had known. Martin had figured it out on his own: archangels were obviously a rank of angel and the Powers were often considered Gods. He felt like it had all been a smug way for the Eye to tell him he’d never had a choice, really, when it came to the ritual.
It had taken a while for those feathers to grow back in. Martin sometimes caught him tugging at his arms when he felt particularly guilty, and would always move his hands away, assuring him for the thousandth time it wasn’t his fault.
But privately, Martin wondered if he was right, if the wings really were a sign that he was always meant to be the lynchpin for this apocalypse. There were aspects of all of the fears in his new condition, however slight some of them might be.
Either way, Martin loved his soft feathers, be they beetle-green, dusky amber, or sleek silver. He’d used to think Jon was impossible to read, but he had so many clear tells now, partly in his new glowing eyes but largely the feathers that covered various parts of him. They served as a blanket if it got cold, and were grounding if Martin needed to touch something. No matter where they came from, Martin loved his pigeon traits and couldn’t imagine Jon without them anymore.
Jon hadn’t cast a single look his way since dropping off their bags. He was in his own little world, exploring the sky, and Martin tried not to be upset about it. There was a tug on his heart, however, as he watched his boyfriend, completely lost to him at least for a moment. He could see the joy and freedom in all of his movements, could hear the jubilant cries he let out, and logically he knew that was good. There was a part of Jon’s nature that was accessible to him when it hadn’t been before, and that was good, it really was. But Martin couldn’t help feeling a tug of worry at the idea that Jon may choose not to return to him. Or, if he did, he might mourn the loss of his new freedom.
Martin took a step away from the edge, never once letting Jon out of his sight. He wasn’t hard to miss, being the only thing in the clear blue sky that extended on for miles. He still shone like a glowstick, too, which wouldn’t exactly aid him on his quest for stealth, if he ever set his mind to it.
Martin traced Jon’s arcs and pivots with his eyes, making an illustration of Jon’s freedom with his flight.
Eventually, though, Jon halted. He was close enough Martin could see him turn his head towards him, then back at the open sky, then back to Martin, before flying over. He landed gracefully, wings folding close against his back.
“I’m sorry,” Jon said guiltily when he returned.
The gnawing fear that Martin was taking away a part of his freedom returned as he watched Jon shrink under the criticism he was prepared to receive. “Don’t be. I’m not upset.”
Jon looked up, silly lava lamp eyes full of gentle hope. “No?”
“No, of course not. You looked so happy, Jon. How could I possibly be upset at you for flying? I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend, in that case.”
Jon smiled and got up on his tippy toes to press a kiss to Martin’s lips. “I love you. And I’m still sorry for leaving you so abruptly.”
“I love you too, Jon.”
Jon handed him his backpack. Jon had had to take the messenger bag, since he could get a bag over his wings. Differentiating between their two bags was mostly pointless, anyway, since they were both carrying a hodgepodge of each others’ belongings, their own things, and the basic tools for survival. Martin had taken the first aid kit, though. He hadn’t trusted Jon with it.
They started walking away from the Vast domain, Jon taking a second to readjust his wings against his back, now that he had a bag to balance as well. He chuckled and commented offhandedly, “I guess we’re lucky I wore trousers. I don’t think things would have gone as well if my tail was trapped under a skirt.”
And there it was again; the fear that bit at him, digging its way into his thoughts until they all revolved around it. He had to make sure, before they got too far and the domain was lost to them again. He just… he dreaded Jon’s response.“Are you…”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you want to leave this place?”
“Pardon?”
“You seemed so happy, Jon. I… you could stay here, you know. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t want to keep going.”
“You wouldn’t?” The words came out soft and quiet, overfilling with vulnerability. Before Martin could backpedal, Jon held his hand up, voice sharp and demanding. “I am not going to leave you, Martin. Sure- I liked the big, open space to learn to fly in - I’m part bird, for Christ’s sake! - but I’m not going to abandon the whole entire world to the apocalypse because I found a domain of fear… fun! And I don’t see how you could possibly expect me to do that. I don’t see how you could expect that I would.”
They walked in silence until they were well past the Vast domain and had entered a domain of the Corruption. Once Jon had made his statement, he returned to Martin’s side and apologized for his words.
“No, I’m sorry,” Martin replied. “You were right, of course. I just… I worried.” Jon cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised curiously, prompting him to continue. “I felt like… I dunno, I felt like I was taking away your freedom, making you leave the Vast domain.”
“Martin.” Jon took his hand gently. “I’m not an avatar of the Vast, that place was no more connected to me than any other domain here. I have no reason to not stay with you until we reach our destination. And it’s not like I can only fly in the Vast, I’m not tied to it.” To demonstrate, he flapped his wings a little, raising into the air to kiss him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, even though you’re freakishly tall.”
“Jon. You’re very short, don’t make this my problem.”
Jon landed and faced away from him, tail whacking him in the shins as he spun. Martin smiled and grabbed one of Jon’s hands, knowing he was fully forgiven.
“Right,” Jon said, staring out at the Panopticon they could just barely see in the distance. “Shall we?”