(Partially inspired by this lovely game. Not telling exactly what this whole thing is about, let's see if you can figure it out yourself
)I used to think humans couldn't fly. That we were stuck on the ground all our lives.
I was one of Alabaster's urchins. No real memory of my parents, and the only homes I'd ever known were the spaces I could hole up in without annoying a spark or pyro rune. I ate what I could catch, begged when I couldn't catch, stole when no one was looking. I hid from the rain, prayed when it was cold and slept when it was dark...
But when it was bright and warm, I flew.
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The streets of Alabaster City were packed as always. Here, an elkrin-drawn wagon drew a huge crowd, there the city patrol and their runes were apprehending a thief. Merchants shouted their wares over the din of the crowd, dogs barked and cats yowled, no doubt from someone carelessly stepping on their tails. But those sounds scarcely reached Altair, where he sat perched on the roof of a shop. The smell rising up from the chimney made his mouth water and his stomach growl, but it was too crowded down below to think of stealing, and no one would notice a ragged boy begging for a few coins.
Altair raised his arm, shielding his eyes from the sun. The sky was a clear, deep blue; the wind soft and warm and absolutely perfect. He stretched out his arms and legs, making sure to roll up the sleeves of his shirt so nothing got caught... and then he ran. His feet had grown hard from over nineteen years without shoes, the hot rooftop registering as little more than a pleasant warmth as he shot forward. He didn't slow down as he approached the edge-- indeed, he increased his speed just before pushing off, easily clearing the small gap between the baker's shop and the tailor's roof. He landed with only a moment's pause to regain his balance, soon leaping to the butcher's roof, and continuing on until there was no roof to leap on to. Altair was panting heavily, his skin soaked with sweat and feeling more than a little light-headed. He sat down on the roof-- where was he now, the apothecary? A jeweler?-- and looked down at the crowd below, simply watching the people pass back and forth. How could they stand it, he wondered. Being confined to the ground, barely ever lifting their heads to so much as glance at the sky.
"Just means more for me," he told himself, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the pains that racked his stomach. He wondered if he could run back to the bakery, maybe let himself fall... if he made enough commotion they might think he was hurt, give him a roll or loaf to shut him up.
"You'll have to share it with me!"
Altair's eyes shot open and he scrambled backwards, pressing hard against the stone rim that surrounded the roof. There was someone else there (where had he come from, he hadn't been there before!), sitting there and grinning like he'd just told some great joke. He was dressed in ragged, mossy-green clothes faded to nearly yellow at the end; with unkempt mousy brown hair that went well past his shoulders. He was fairly dark-skinned, about the same as Altair himself (and appeared to be a similar age... though clearly much better well-fed, Altair could already tell the boy had a good six inches on him), but... those eyes. The boy's eyes were green around the outermost edges, but otherwise as golden as the sun.
"W... who are you?" Altair asked, once he found his voice.
The boy just grinned again, getting up and offering Altair his hand.
"Call me Aeolus."
