Heights had never been one of Lawrence’s favourite things, in fact (really surprisingly) he had an aversion to all manner of things which could kill him. Open water still held pride of place at the top of the list of those things. Heights fell lower on it because sometimes you just needed to climb up a few walls to see what was going on in other people’s lives.

That day in spite of all of this he was going to try flying. He’d been working up his wing muscles – and it was still strange to think he had wing muscles at all – and was ready to try and make the leap. He’d climbed up on top of one of the lab outbuildings in the early evening and once up there on a spot which overlooked a soft grassy lawn shifted to his owl shape and carefully practiced spreading his wings and tail over and over until he was familiar again with the form he was in.

There wasn’t any fear as he stepped forward closer to the edge. He didn’t truly feel fear anyway, just caution and vague self-preservation. If he fell maybe he’d die but that didn’t bother him. The owl thing was entertaining, a different body with different requirements and needs that kept him busy. It was like having another persona, just a persona which happened not to be human. The fact that it counted as one made it very, very important to learn how to do it properly. He wasn’t a proper owl if he couldn’t fly.

The hardest part of it all, he’d found was letting himself succumb to the instincts built into his tiny bird brain like this. He had after all, spent a lifetime untraining his innate human impulses to prevent himself ending up in prison or worse. Now suddenly, he was going to need to rely on those instincts to manage this very specialised task without dying horribly. It would after all be impossible to do something as simple as talk or walk if one got too caught up in the mechanical minutia of the action and didn’t just rely on one’s brain to sort it all out, flying was doubtless the same.

He stepped forward a little further, until his talons were over the edge and carefully spread his wings, feeling the air flow over them, even with the breeze feeling a little of the lift that their shape provided, a strong gust would pull him onto his tiptoes.

Really it was all an excuse to get away from all the issues plaguing his personal life, an excuse to see if he could succeed at something without failing at something else. He was good at diversion and work was always reliable means to do so.

He leapt out from the edge, throwing his wings wide and finding himself carried aloft almost immediately. The initial response was panic of a sort as he found himself above a very very steep drop. He flapped his wings, gaining height before losing it again rapidly. Air was strange, it felt different as you moved through it, the wind seeming to pool and shift. He relaxed as best he could and tried not to overthink it, throwing effort into it, working as hard as he could.

Still, he couldn't keep himself aloft for ever and for all the distance he gained in height he lost again in inefficient flight and lost lift. Working harder seemed to have less returns and steering was very difficult with a tail that wouldn't comply.

Finally he found himself on the ground again, breathless and exhausted, but in spite of it all alive. He'd definitely flown, he'd felt it, and it had been wonderful. It was just going to take a great deal more work to figure out how to do it properly and with any duration.

Nevertheless he couldn't help but be a little proud of himself for managing it, one of the few humans who ever got to fly on their own power.