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The Winds, Boreas, Eurus, Notus, and Zephyrus Four planes…

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The Winds, Boreas, Eurus, Notus, and Zephyrus



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Four planes flying in perfect formation against a clear blue sky. As the crowd on the ground watches, they break and re-form in a series of intricate weavings that seem almost impossible. It’s clear that these are excellent pilots, possibly the best there are, from the way they fly within inches of each other and yet never touch.
The people on the ground would be shocked and likely terrified if they could see into the cockpits and realize that none of the four pilots are touching the controls. They’re leaning back, no helmets, no flight suits, smirking at each other.
“North, you bastard, you’re a good six inches off!”
“Like you could do better!”
“Damn right, I could.” He cocks an eyebrow and slides his plane into a loop that brings his canopy within three inches of North’s. The crowd explodes into applause. North glares.
“You’re such a show-off, West.”
“Sour grapes, North?” A third plane joins in, bottom to the exposed bottom of West’s plane.
“Not a bit, East.” North slips out from under West and flips on top of East.
“All right, boyos, time to try something else, I think. Catch me if you can!” The fourth plane speeds into a sharp dive that looks like it will plow straight into the tarmac. The three other planes pull out of formation and join him. They stop, about ten feet off the ground, with the noses of their planes touching. The crowd goes wild.
They continue their performance for another twenty minutes or so, each stunt wilder and more impressive than the last. Finally, they are hovering 100 feet off the ground. They pull out their helmets and put them back on, before landing delicately and without a sound. The four pilots meet their fans and then head into the changing shack.
“Good show, boys. Good show.” The owner of the airfield hands each of them a check and shakes their hands. “Welcome back anytime.”
“Thank you, Mr. Godwin. We’ll be back.”
“Can’t keep a good plane down. Heh.”
They walk out in simple suits and head down to the nearby pier. The dock agent looks up as they come to his desk.
“Here to pick up boat keys? I need your names please.”
“Boris North”
“Yuri Eastman”
“Sutton Southerland”
“Zach Westinghouse”
They retrieved their keys and Boreas, Eurus, Notus, and Zephyrus walk down to their speed boats and race out across the Sound.
The Feeling:
calm calm
The Sound:
One in a Million-Miss Congeniality
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On August 3rd, 2005 03:26 am (UTC), balletrat commented:
HEEE, hobbitwinds. This one's adorable.
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On August 3rd, 2005 03:27 am (UTC), dramaturgca replied:
They seemed like a good group of four...And they fit together so nicely...;)
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