☆ ★ ☆ ——— What ought to have been a quiet day performing maintenance on the Tornado quickly became anything but. The freshly polished surface of the plane rippled, as if suddenly turned liquid. From beneath its newfound depths a figure emerged, sent hurtling in a roll across the hanger floor before he came to a stop. The Tytoann having landed on his stomach, winged arms painfully splayed out.
A glassy sheen, almost like that of cut crystal, clung to Noctus. Encasing him. The sound of it shattering resonated through the space. Its fragments glittering like starlight before they dissipated mere seconds later, as if blown away on an unknown breeze.
Once again flesh and blood the Tytoann’s chest shuddered and heaved, struggling not to cough up what little air he had between wheezes. His pale face damp with exertion and fear as his hand clung to the three-clawed gash torn in his arm just below his shoulder. The worst of a few of his injuries.