Oops, guess I was too vague, meant the clouds. I'm going to try to not make mysterious references to "them" and "it" and whatever like some stories do, because that always annoys me. Anyway, thanks for your comment.
Went on to write a little more while avoiding doing my history outlines... Also fixed/changed a few things.
Quote:
The light seeps in through the window, illuminating the floating dust I inhale. Below, the golden city shimmers with movement. The sun sets on the horizon as I relax in my seat.
A young man two rows ahead smashes his window. A gust seeps into the ship while he crawls out. As surprise flashes across the faces of the other passengers, he jumps off. I lean to my window and look as he falls down. The cold air caresses him and I can only imagine the red stain he’ll leave upon the smooth gold. The crowd murmurs itself back to silence as a soft breeze blows through the shattered remains of glass. It’s chilling to some, yet I’m not bothered much by it.
I think to myself for a while, and then copy him. In one swift motion I leap through the window, breaking it and gliding right out. I hear screams behind me for a split second, and in the next I am falling far below. My heart jumps and then calms. I guess it’s true: you only feel fear for a short time. I take a deep breath, and suddenly I understand. I can feel a force flow out of me. My descent slows and gradually stops, still quite high above the city. It’s hard to stay perfectly still and balance myself, but I manage.
I move toward the direction where the young man fell, and then let myself descend a little lower, until I can see flashing ambulance lights. He failed. Clouds of orange frame the lavender sky. I sigh to myself, thinking of how he'll never see this sight again. Soon the stars will pierce the sky.
Night tries to blanket the city but the golden glow turns a shade of green as the city lights turn on, and resists the darkness above. The city haze and the black shade of night collide and I fall through both, flipping and spinning before I crash. Er, land. I stand on a rooftop, look down, and see cars pass by on the street, hearing someone burn their tires, car screeching, in the distance. I bet they think they’re cool. Jumping off the rooftop, I gently land in the alleyway, and casually walk out onto the street, pretending I’m just one of the crowd as I head towards my destination.
I stop in front of a little broken-down building, remnant of what looks like a pub. The sign on the bar features a little piglet, etched into the rotting wood, and proclaims to the world the establishment’s name: The Iron Boar. I now realize that the "boar" isn't etched into the wood but rather someone's jacked the original metal emblem that had been screwed into the cheap, old nameplate.
I enter and instantly dislike the damp air inside. Still, I must endure for now for I see my contact. He is drinking, his long coat hanging straight down behind him, dusting the floor, so that from the back it’s difficult to tell whether he is sitting or standing at first glance. I only see the stool beneath him when I finally approach and sit down at his right. Between the tip of his hat and the top of his collar, set upright, his eyes shoot through at me.
