Necrosis was practically bouncing from foot to foot when Quinlan told him to take off. He wasted no time, jumping straight into the air with a large gust of wind from his wings. It blew Quinlan's hair and ruffled his clothes. A single black feather gracefully fluttered to the ground. It was very long and rounded with a small bit of down at the end.
Necrosis climbed the air like he was made for it. As he got higher the more the wind played with his air and ruffled his feathers. Flying was the most natural thing in the world for him. He passed the top of the temple and his wings closed as he used the momentum to turn to face downwards. Necrosis had no fear when he flew. He understood his relationship with the wind and sky. His wings flared out to slow his fall as he landed. Necrosis crouched and looked over the edge to wave down at Quinlan.
Necrosis could stay up there for hours. As an angel who spent most of his life underground, being this high was a liberation. Necrosis had always been obsessed with high flying. He was always above his siblings, only usually flying wingtip with Blackout.