Icarus was always told no to fly to high, he wasn’t a good listener. He’d always like to cause mischief, nothing too bad just a few little things like, stealing some snacks or spooking others. With his new set of wings which have sprouted a few years ago. They told him he can fly now, his wings now grown to a decent length with an abundant array of white and an off white. They call him the angel, ironic with this personality. Icarus has gotten in trouble many times before but that doesn’t stop him, if anything he gets better at escaping. Icarus’ spreads his wings leaping off the ledge of the floating island one he wasn’t allowed to leave until a year ago. The wind blowing through each feather, the breeze flowing through his golden locks. Eyes closed with the breeze the feeling if the sun relieving the cold of winter biting at his nose and fingertips. Icarus with his eyes still closed flys higher the heat of the sun making him want more, he flys and flys, with each flap of his wings he feels the heat radiating off the sun. There are distant voices but they’re too far to make out. Icarus ignores it and keeps flying closer and closer to the heat. The distant sounds now make out to be distant cries, when Icarus opens his eyes he’s blinded almost immediately. The shock of light blinding him makes him panic, he flys and flys still heading towards the heat. Until he feels nothing, no cold no heat.