PSL: Faith and the Fallen (for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quiteafew)
It wasn't that he had nowhere else to be, really; he could have chosen to be anywhere, and there he would have been in less than the space of a blink. But he liked being, plainly put, in the middle of goddamn nowhere, because there he might actually find some small measure of peace, the calm of not having a raging headache.
Being all but entirely incommunicado with the deity that created you was a mild pain in the ass--if by mild you meant enormous. Still, Ani had gotten increasingly used to the new baseline sensation, and though he rather liked the world around him, being in things and seeing for himself the practical paradise humans had. Even if the difficulties of having wings the appropriate size to carry your ass in flight outweighed some of the small pleasures, nothing would ever top bathing. The experience, the ritual, was oddly glorious, even if he did need to go about it half like a human and half like a bird, shaking himself all over and laying out in the sun to let the feathered appendages dry. He could get used to this. Had already gotten used to it, if he really was honest with himself: he was settled on a flat-ish rock, worn jeans pulled on to cover his legs and his wings unfurled, making a sort of shade umbrella over his head so he could read. (Books were awesome, he'd summarily decided after reading the first one.)
Being all but entirely incommunicado with the deity that created you was a mild pain in the ass--if by mild you meant enormous. Still, Ani had gotten increasingly used to the new baseline sensation, and though he rather liked the world around him, being in things and seeing for himself the practical paradise humans had. Even if the difficulties of having wings the appropriate size to carry your ass in flight outweighed some of the small pleasures, nothing would ever top bathing. The experience, the ritual, was oddly glorious, even if he did need to go about it half like a human and half like a bird, shaking himself all over and laying out in the sun to let the feathered appendages dry. He could get used to this. Had already gotten used to it, if he really was honest with himself: he was settled on a flat-ish rock, worn jeans pulled on to cover his legs and his wings unfurled, making a sort of shade umbrella over his head so he could read. (Books were awesome, he'd summarily decided after reading the first one.)