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Altostratus leans dangerously close on the railing. He’s trying to see the little lights of the cars. This area of Portbottom is unusually quiet at this time. It is like everyone has agreed that silence is golden, if only for a moment.
The city lights are, however, as bright as usual.
Eventually, he gives up. Looking down is making his head dizzy. He flops down onto the roof’s surface, and stares up at the cloudy night sky. He can still make out the stars above the clouds.
He’s heard how people found the night scary and dark, maybe colourless. He doesn’t understand why. It looks very pretty, with hundreds of hues in the sky alone. The breeze is ruffling the jello avian’s colourful feathers.
He suddenly sits up, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck.
The scarf reminds him of many things.
It has a fruity smell, just like the slushies he makes. The thought of going back to work the next day makes him smile.
He thinks about the many people he’s met, and communicated with.
There’s a red one, an orange one, a yellow one, a green one- There’s also-
Wait- He’s known more than that, right? Remembering is difficult.
There’s a nest on the roof nearby. Alto can see the mother bird, who has wrapped her wings around her fledglings tight, keeping them warm. Alto smiles a bit more.
His hand subconsciously ruffles his own obsidian black wings. He looks down, and wonders yet again:
Did he ever have a nest? Did he ever have a mother bird who protected him from storms?
He supposes not. He’s never heard of anyone like him, with jet-black wings, but the feathers on his head are brightly coloured.
Oh, and he’s made of jello. That’s why, he assumes, he’s never been severely injured from hard impacts- he’s just very squishy. He bounces off surfaces a lot. There’s probably never been a jello avian before him. At leasr not one he's heard of.
Alto pats his wings again. They’re fully grown. And yet…
He has never flown before.
He’s still a fledgling.
Most likely, he’s never had a mother- at least not one who would have taught him to fly.
Should he try it now? Flying?
He stands up and walks back to the railing, spreading his wings wide.
And…
Nope, nope, nope.
He remembers why he hadn’t flown in the first place.
He’s scared, and overly so.
He’s never fallen from such a height before, he could get hurt!
The lights are bright, way, way too bright. The world is spinning way too fast.
The fledgling grabs the railing tightly. Slowly but surely his breathing evens.
Alto stands up. He’s ready to try again.
He spreads his wings wide and-
Nope! No he’s not!
He tries again.
And again.
Over and over.
He tells himself that it’s just a jump, but why does it have to be
so damn hard?
He isn’t scared!
Now he’s balancing on the railing, his heart thumping yet again.
Altostratus is ready, but the fledgling in his heart isn’t.
A raindrop hits him on the face. He ignores it.
He’s ready.
Later, he’d claim that his flight was smooth and “full of swag”, but in reality, it was more of a frightened tumble.
More specifically, a loud thunderclap made his ears ring. The avian isn’t used to loud sounds.
It’s loud enough to startle him.
Loud enough to startle him so bad, he trips off the railing.
He’s sure his heart stopped at that moment, because he can’t hear anything.
Except wind.
And…flapping noises?
Is he…?
Yes he is.
He’s soaring in the air.
Altostratus is flying .
His little heart-fledgling quivers.
He’s approaching the clouds fast, and he looks down, wings beating powerfully.
Instead of the dizziness he expects, he can see the lights. All of them. They’re extremely bright.
The wind whistles in his ears. It feels oddly familiar, like the voice of an old friend.
More raindrops hit him. It’s begun to rain.
Now he supposes he should touch down soon. He doesn’t know what will happen if his wings get wet.
Yet, Alto lets himself enjoy this moment.
The fledgling takes its first flight.