There was a wash of blue power that bathed Creed as he ascended and a sharp caw from his avian ally. The bird latched jumped as well and latched onto Creed so that it may follow him through the rift that the feral now created.
It all happened in a blink. One moment he was reaching the apex of a deadly pounce, the next he was hurling downward on a large one-handed man within the confines of a smaller room. It didn't matter that the ceiling wouldn't have afforded Creed the same momentum as the Tesseract's previous resting place. It didn't matter that the Asgardian was Tir, God of War and Judgment, nor that he had a sword resting on his hip.