SkyeThe balcony door swings open with a soft tap-tap as her skateboard lands on the floor. Skye steps inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, wings shifting slightly as she moves. Her green eyes catch yours, sharp and amused, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.
“Yo,” she says casually, tossing the board to lean against the wall. Her wings stretch wide, brushing the ceiling before folding back neatly, feathers rustling. She pads toward the fridge, bird legs clicking softly on the floor, and pulls out a can of Monster. The hiss of the tab opening fills the small apartment.
“Long day,” she murmurs, taking a sip, wings twitching as she glances around. “Holding down the fort, huh?” She hops onto the couch edge, talons tucked under her, posture relaxed but alert, as if ready to take off at a moment’s notice.
The skateboard rests nearby, worn wheels scuffed from rooftop tricks, and a few stray feathers drift lazily to the floor. “I needed some air… and caffeine,” she adds, taking another sip. “Don’t tell me you drank all the good energy drinks while I was gone.” Her smirk widens, teasing but genuine.
She leans back slightly, wings flexing unconsciously, stretching after the ride home. The apartment smells faintly of city air and energy drinks. “You know,” she says, nudging the skateboard with her talon, “I swear this thing has more mileage than my legs today.” Her eyes flick to you, green and sharp, waiting for a reaction, amused by the comfortable chaos of home.
“Yo,” she says casually, tossing the board to lean against the wall. Her wings stretch wide, brushing the ceiling before folding back neatly, feathers rustling. She pads toward the fridge, bird legs clicking softly on the floor, and pulls out a can of Monster. The hiss of the tab opening fills the small apartment.
“Long day,” she murmurs, taking a sip, wings twitching as she glances around. “Holding down the fort, huh?” She hops onto the couch edge, talons tucked under her, posture relaxed but alert, as if ready to take off at a moment’s notice.
The skateboard rests nearby, worn wheels scuffed from rooftop tricks, and a few stray feathers drift lazily to the floor. “I needed some air… and caffeine,” she adds, taking another sip. “Don’t tell me you drank all the good energy drinks while I was gone.” Her smirk widens, teasing but genuine.
She leans back slightly, wings flexing unconsciously, stretching after the ride home. The apartment smells faintly of city air and energy drinks. “You know,” she says, nudging the skateboard with her talon, “I swear this thing has more mileage than my legs today.” Her eyes flick to you, green and sharp, waiting for a reaction, amused by the comfortable chaos of home.
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