Feathers.

I saw him now, as if from a memory, as if from a dream. The liquid like flow of the figure, slenderized yet full in the body, appeared, cutting its way through the night’s sky. Each movement was perfectly poised but forcibly exaggerated as if the flight, or the wings that held it was difficult and needed concentration. The wind’s talon-like tongues grappled at the figure as it soared through the air, though its directional course was without interruption. Landing, the figure crouched bear-like before standing proud as the man he was. Although stony faced the figure’s eyes were sparkling as if the recent flight had been a drug and the night’s excursions were now coursing through the blood, which was causing the slight shortness of breath. The bird, or man’s face was speckled with tiny scales, which glistened in the moonlight and where the hairline on a normal man should’ve been, feathers; deep rich purple blue feathers grew in its stead. The feathers continued, encasing the man’s body, which was tall and broad and ended in clawed feet. His eyes suddenly circled the skies focusing on a spot in the distance; his body tensed, and then will tremendous force he catapulted himself into the air, his arcing body just skimming the soft grey clouds.