@miindkiiller location: Maine notes: Can be in the past, or maybe their trip was delayed until Stephanos returned from the dungeon crawl, up to you but thought it was too good to gloss over.
The town unfolded beneath them in a sprawl of weathered clapboard houses, church steeples that cut clean into the horizon, and a coastline that breathed with the tide. Adam’s sneakers hit pavement first, as he hopped from the pegasus' back with a thud after the sweep of wings; the salt-sharp rush of air still clinging to his jacket.
It was easy to see him here. A wandering presence from market to fixture, to routine, and to life. It was quiet, sleepy, and subtly ominous in no small fashion.
“Babe, you sure as fuck didn’t exaggerate,” he muttered, voice low but carrying in the way it always did, he'd officially kicked the habit of calling his boyfriends, bro - progress. His hands found his pockets, restless even standing still, the tension of flight still humming through him. He caught a few locals staring - did they know Stephanos? - and cracked half a grin as if daring them to say something. "Quiet place." Gossipy too, probably - not that Adam gave a fuck what people thought - but this was Stephanos' town.
His gaze shifted back to Stephanos, “So,” he said, tilting his chin toward the clustered houses and narrow streets. “Where do we start? I wanna see your haunts."