Strawberry's Descent

Arista took the ski lift up to the Celestial Realm, the same easy, comfortable ride that had long since replaced the demanding climb she'd once made with nothing but a Damascus pickaxe to cut a tunnel through the cloud barrier.

She found him at the Celestial anchor point, near the roller coaster's starting platform, watching the distant drop stretch away below with the quiet, contemplative stillness he always carried.

"Strawberry," he said, six wings shifting in gentle acknowledgment as she approached. "An unexpected visit."

"I wanted to see you before I left," she said. "I'm going away in a few months. I didn't want to simply vanish without a proper goodbye."

Michael considered this, the countless small eyes across his smaller wings blinking slow and thoughtful.

"...Our acquaintance has been briefer than most you've likely built across this world." A pause. "You came all this way to tell me?"

"You gave me one of the strangest, most joyful moments of this entire project," Arista said. "You asked to be the first passenger. That mattered to me. I wasn't going to just let that go unacknowledged."

Michael's wings settled.

"...Strawberry, if you are leaving, would you honor me by sharing a cart with me, one final time?"

For a moment, Arista didn't trust herself to answer.

She simply nodded.

"...Yeah. I'd like that."

Michael inclined his head and followed her toward the waiting cart.

At its edge, he paused.

The two larger flight wings folded inward, drawing tighter and tighter against his body until they disappeared entirely, leaving only the smaller, eye-lined wings wrapped close around his head and the lower feathered pair draped around his legs.

Arista watched the process with a small wince.

"Still uncomfortable?"

"Somewhat."

"You know, you make that look way more graceful than something uncomfortable has any right to look."

"Practice."

They climbed into the cart together and secured themselves, Arista checking her restraint almost automatically before glancing at Michael's.

He noticed.

"You are aware I have survived this ride repeatedly."

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"Yeah, and I'm still checking."

"...Very well."

The release mechanism engaged.

They rode mostly in silence.

The cart tipped over the eighty-nine-degree drop and plunged toward the world below, through the corkscrew and into the full inversion that neither of them had ever quite stopped finding remarkable. Wind tore past them, the track roaring beneath the wheels, the Celestial Realm disappearing overhead before snapping back into view.

At the bottom, the cart slowed before catching onto the lift system for the long return. Michael's eyes, the countless small ones scattered across his folded wings, slowly closed one after another as the ascent began, until only a handful remained open, watching the world fall away below them.

Arista leaned back beside him and watched the track climb steadily upward.

When the cart finally rolled back onto the Celestial platform, neither of them moved immediately.

Michael's closed eyes opened again, turning toward her.

"Thank you," he said. "For that, and for the very first one. I do not believe I have properly thanked you for either."

"You don't need to," Arista said, smiling. "Watching you enjoy it was thanks enough."

"Regardless. Thank you."

"...You're welcome. Whatever comes next for me, I'll remember the first ride fondly. Heaven and Hell sharing a cart and enjoying themselves like children."

"Did you just call me a child, spokesperson for demonkind?"

"You know what I mean, Michael."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

They climbed out.

The moment Michael had enough room around him, his two flight wings began to emerge again, unfurling from his body until they stretched to their full span behind him.

Arista could have sworn she heard the faintest sigh leave him as they settled into place.

She stared.

It sounded suspiciously like someone finally undoing the top button of their trousers after a very large dinner.

"...That feels better, doesn't it?"

Michael's wings went very still.

"Considerably."

Arista bit the inside of her cheek.

"Right."

She very carefully did not laugh.

Michael turned toward her again, ancient dignity apparently restored.

"Travel well, Strawberry, wherever your path leads next. You have given this realm far more than it ever expected from an outsider."

"Thank you," Arista said, quieter now. "For trusting me enough to ride first."

Michael inclined his head.

They stood together for another moment, the silence comfortable rather than heavy.

Arista looked toward his wings.

Then back at him.

"...Quick question."

"Yes?"

"Could I touch your wings?"

Michael answered without hesitation.

"I do not like people touching my wings."

"Oh."

Arista nodded immediately.

"...Okay."

Michael regarded her for a moment, then reached back toward one of his lower wings. He took hold of a single feather and pulled it free before holding it out toward her.

"You wished to know what they feel like."

"Well, yeah."

"Then this solves the problem without requiring you to touch my wings."

Arista blinked, then accepted the feather carefully, glancing once toward the full, undisturbed span of wings still resting behind him.

The first thing she noticed was how soft it was.

Not merely smooth. Soft enough that she ran her thumb across it again just to make sure she'd felt it correctly, the individual barbs yielding almost effortlessly beneath her fingers.

Then she tried to flex the shaft.

It barely moved.

Arista frowned and applied slightly more pressure.

Still almost nothing.

"...What the hell?"

Michael waited patiently.

"This is ridiculously soft."

"Yes."

"And absurdly strong."

"Also yes."

She turned the feather over, examining it from the other side before running her fingers across it one final time.

"...Okay."

A small smile pulled at her mouth.

"Yeah. That absolutely satisfies my curiosity."

"Then I am satisfied as well."

Arista tucked the feather carefully away.

"Thank you, Michael."

Michael remained where he was, all six wings resting naturally around him once more.

He inclined his head.

"Farewell, Strawberry."