(It does not seem like a strength, to him, to be accustomed to murder-- he would not hesitate to verbally and figuratively fight anyone who thought otherwise)
Mateo's thoughts move on quickly, jumping easily from topic to topic as the young and attention-deficit do. He blames the heat, the wet heat, that makes him long for the cool breeze dancing above them. When he asks to join her, he expects her to say of course you can, but he does not expect to feel so pleased when she does. He doesn't have many flying companions-- most of the wingers in Delumine are too serious and stuffy and afraid of taking pleasure from their great gift, as though enjoyment was a sort of sin and not a prayer.
But... looking for Solis? He frowns, and on his young face it looks (quite unbecomingly) like a pout. If he were to meet any of the gods, really meet them instead of just feeling their presence in the wind beneath his wings or the breath in his lungs, Solis would be his last pick. Of the Novian pantheon, the sun god was the only one Mateo ever found himself at odds with. It most likely stems from the uncomfortable truth that the traits we dislike most in others are those we despise in ourselves. Solis is known to be proud, vain, and boyish: three traits as uncomfortable to him as grit between feathers.
True, Solis is not here-- but neither is Oriens (although this place did not have the subtlety of his patron god, and so his absence does not come as a surprise) so it seems logical that either god could be up on the mountain. "Maybe Oriens will be there too." his voice, too, curls with the hint of a dare.
He takes a few steps back, crouches down, waggles his tail feathers a little (a reflexive habit that might look a little strange, but just feels right), unfolds his great black wings... and grins at the girl with the alaja. He springs into the air, pushing his wings down at the height of his jump to propel further upward. It's always a little awkward, getting into the air and flying from a stationary position, and his body drops almost as much as it rises with the next few flaps of his wings. Only when he is well above the ground does the motion get smoother, easier. "I'm Mateo!" he calls to her through the breezy twilight, his voice electric with that certain joy only known to those with wings.
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@Elif it was beautiful, that's what it was, and this thread makes me so happy :) would you like to wrap it up here and we can start a new one in the veneror board?
