The first thing that overtook her was the sheer weight of them. She hadn’t been expecting that, not really, she’d been expecting a little extra weight, sure, but this… This felt like it would crush her. Like her lungs would cave and her ribs would break, and she’d be left without any way of saving herself because he hadn’t ever taught her how to use them.
She panted and growled and groaned as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and wondered just who had decided they hated her enough to force this sort of oppressive weight onto her.
The second thing that she realized was the simple fact that she was stuck. Stranded in the middle of nowhere because he had popped into existence, grinned like Jack Nicholson, snapped his fingers, and then vanished. Even if she wanted him back (which, frankly, she did not), she was completely unaware of how to summon him back again. He hadn’t even given her a “by your leave”!
She managed to roll onto her side, alleviating some of the pressure on her lungs and removing the spots that had been dancing before her eyes only moments earlier. If she’d known it would feel like this, she never would have wished for them. Never in a million years would she have decided this would be a good idea if she had only known.
It was too late now, of course, they were here and so was she, and that didn’t look like it would be changing any time soon. At least not without some sort of divine intervention, and she doubted she was that much of an angelic being.
Wings, after all, did not make the angel; the angel made the wings.
The song “Of Angels and Angles” belongs to The Decemeberists