The hatch releases steam, blown out by the loss of pressure. Along with the door up into the vast distance hitting with less of a sound than a sledgehammer. More like a suppressed cinder block dampened by the earplugs you'd have at work. The kid knew this but the Alien didn't. Jumping with the drop of his wings up into the air landing on what he remembered as having a lighter disposition.
"I didn't crash, I skidded." Rev shrugs at his tilted spaceship, wondering if it'll ever fly again. "You look a little dishevelled for someone who should be positively shaking." says the child bewildered by the disastrous landing and the angelic being in front of him.
The scuttled prototype of an air speeder intermeshed into a schematic of the spaceship, Solaris. A solar turbine that relied mainly on the rotation of stars and their brightness. Along with the other collected masses to gain a sense of trajectory.
Air and scale determined his weight, thickening the hide of his skin with an exponential crunch of his body, the sound breaking the ear as the rest shifted into himself. "Turbulence."
Enraptured by the eruption of static of his fingers tightening, the sound lighting up his fingers. Compacting together a fist, the ignition stagnated on the operation he'd had done to have his hands better left undescribed by the hollow bone pipeline. He fuels from the bite of rock.
The yawn of an ambiguously located adolescent, "You don't look injured, any chance you're hungry? I'm hungry." The nonchalance of the boy had the being above lift his eyes and nod. "Do you have any mini pizzas?"
"I can't use the microwave."
"Why?"
"Don't ask."
The green-lit eyes, speak up for what isn't addressed by his words, "This record collection, man." Accentuating his speech in approval. Moving the records in his hands, slowly rolled out one of the discs with his thumb. "Hey! Never touch those with grease on your fingers." The reaction to Rev's poor decision is helping him rethink the varnish, the polish and how it's supposed to be handled. Knowing his fingers pick up more than dander, dried dirt, and the carpet flooring. All kindling for static. A single scratch and the needle runs off the set etch. "Jarred and the Jackal, okay," his levity of tongue expressing skepticism, "How the fuck does this work?"
"Never say that shit word again." Eyes widening for the comment. His head tilts in curt. "Oh, your joking." Grimacing at the stifling deception, the kid still shutting down his speech, "Be careful, harmless," He rushes up to the record player and says sharply, "The brush and don't crank it." Dev assures him he will. He had forgotten the startling meaning of the scars on his back, both wings. One to fall with, one torn from him. The kid's face falls staggered by the cuts across his back, old and new. Saying solemnly as if his tone gave him a whole new identity, misperceived for his clarity coupled with knowledge of perspective drowning his boyish tune, "You'll rock the whole house to the ground."
"Did you plan to say that?" He pauses, waiting for a response. He let go of the assured shock to the boy for the scars on my back. "You should keep saying it till people don't know what lie you're telling them. What's your name?"
"Syg." Dev's mind is now bent on illusion for not knowing. "Sygnus?"
"I know"
"What?"
"I know why you can't place this moment."
"You've taken it from yourself," he sits down and flicks a coin with his two foremost fingers. Bouncing off the speaker, ending with a spin atop of it. "Slow still adrift, watch the coin." The coin is about to lose its entropy, "Blown!" He hits the speaker and it kicks back up still spinning. "Keep all focus here." The static ripples out of the shaken-out connection, "Stone." His fist slams the wooden box placing the wire back into contention of the Jarred and the Jackal, the kid straightening up in his chair judging of steel parlour trick along with the submerged spoken scheme of his vocality. Imbedded into the final toppling of a coin.
"Stolen." The coin falls, "By you or me?"
Dev is left thinking about what is outside this illusion if you were to look from the outside in.
***