More Weird Crossover!
Like my last one but possible more niche
If you had asked Keith a year ago, he would have said nothing beat flying. Piloting a jet, or even just riding co was amazing, and there was little that matched feeling the jet respond to you.
If you had asked him a month ago, he would have said flying again. Piloting Red was magical. He had never thought the Garrison's jets were slow until he felt her controls. She was so quiznaking responsive. Sometimes it felt like she knew where they were going before he did.
If you asked him now, he might have to rescind all of those statements because riding Red, up and around the mountain tops, was something else entirely. Being able to feel the wind whip through his hair, chilling his arms and making his eyes water. Feeling as she panted through the thin leather of the racing saddle. Swaying with her. And she was still moving almost as fast as he reacted. That line between his thoughts and hers blurring as they sped around.
The air was thin up here. Sharp as daggers, and he could not bring himself to care. Not when all he could feel was Red's exertion in his lungs and they pushed faster and faster. Her stomach didn't drop like his did when they plummeted. She didn't blur when they resurfaced. But he knew she felt it. Knew she liked it. Because they were one. And he'd gotten close to this feeling when piloting her, but this was like nothing he'd ever felt.
His brain felt fuzzy. Just a little bit around the edges. It was easy to ignore. The splitting quality of adrenaline easily overpowered anything. Or at least it did until his grip slipped on the saddle.
Even the terror seemed muffled. At least his did. Red's seemed raw and read enough. Though both were drastically overshadowed by the overlapping images of him falling. He saw Red, diving down for him, and himself falling, arms outstretched. They collided in his mind. He should separate. Break that close bond they had for a minute to catch his breath but--
His butt collided with the saddle hard. He fell forward awkwardly, too clumsy hands grabbing for something to hold onto. She hummed beneath him, wings beating slowly as her head swivelled back to him. Her breath was warm, and he did not melt into it.
Legs, she said sternly. Oh yeah, right, stirrups. They descended a lot slower than they ascended, his eyes fighting him against being awake.
Someone caught him as he listed halfway off the dragon.
Eragon and voltron smushed:) yes it was Lance catching him
@vldtenyearanniversaryfest
