[ Instinct more than anything else has him glance back; he feels that someone's behind him, somehow. Between the wind whipping past and pulling tears from his eyes as he free falls, not yet flying, and the whipping of clothing in hair, he doesn't immediately identify who it is behind him. Because ultimately, it's not that important--the person doesn't have the profile of another dragoon, they don't look like anything else he's fought in aerial combat.
So he laughs, unable to contain his joy in this moment, and turns his attention back toward the rapidly approaching ground. He knows he's not hardly the only amethyst around; if someone else wants to fly, let them do it. He focuses on his own magic, preparing to go from dive to flight, from using the aether he's familiar with to this newer technique. ]
no subject
So he laughs, unable to contain his joy in this moment, and turns his attention back toward the rapidly approaching ground. He knows he's not hardly the only amethyst around; if someone else wants to fly, let them do it. He focuses on his own magic, preparing to go from dive to flight, from using the aether he's familiar with to this newer technique. ]