It's in the Genes

Wine and Kind

It was a couple of hours before we all went back to the house. Sometimes on weekends in the summer, we would stay out the whole night, but for now, the kids had school and we had work the next day.

It is always hard making that decision to fly back. The sheer freedom and relief of being in the sky is almost euphoric. There are many times I've fantasized about going completely off the grid and living on our own. We could sleep according to our natural rhythms, Niall and I could fly more frequently, Sybil would be more comfortable and less overstimulated, and Parker could stretch all eight of his limbs without worry.

Unfortunately, I don't think we could handle the isolation that would bring. As close as we all are, I don't think it would be enough, just the four of us. That, and—it's morbid, I know— we all will die someday. It hurts to think about—I don't want to imagine Parker, lifeless and still; or Sybil's strong, quiet presence suddenly missing; or Niall, with all he means to me, just gone—but the isolation would mean whoever lives longer in the group would watch the others die, getting lonelier and lonelier until it's finally their turn. I guess that feels as significant to me as it does, because realistically, the kids will probably outlive Niall and I, and it would be their future.

On the positive, not-death-obsessed side, there's definitely safety in numbers too. When you're connected to a community, people notice if you disappear. Heck, if you're in the country and someone unfamiliar comes around your house, somehow your neighbor that's three miles away will know, stop by with shotgun in tow, and make sure they aren't bothering you. Whether it's out of nosiness or kindness, it's useful.

I don't know if the scientists are looking for us. I imagine they are; our existence alone is a big enough investment to want to keep hold of us. We've taken precautions, but it always helps to have other people to act, even if only in some small way, as a defense.

Despite the difficulty, we managed to pull ourselves away and get the kids back too. They were more overtly disappointed than Niall or I, but they knew enough not to argue by this point. While both of us try our best to be understanding and give the kids days off when they need it, school is important.

By some miracle, both Sybil and Parker were in bed by 10 PM. Sybil probably stayed up to read after we left the room, but I wasn't going to be super strict about that. Her sleep schedule is more in line with the rattle snake her DNA is spliced with, so there being a little delay in the time she goes to bed and actually falls asleep is to be expected.

I stood in the living room and stretched my wings tentatively, making sure not to knock anything over. Much like Sybil, Niall and I had trouble falling asleep because of our DNA. As adults, we had more freedom to make the less responsible decision of lounging around until we actually felt tired, and then wandering to our beds.

"Wine?" Niall asked from the kitchen, holding up the bottle of moscato I recently opened, his wings slightly outstretched.

"Mmm, yes, please."

I heard the soft trickling of liquid spilling into glass before Niall came in holding two cups of wine, one mine and one his. The sharp, sweet scent hit me as soon as he had opened the bottle.

"Here's your syrup," Niall said, handing me my glass. He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, so he likes his wine dry. I like mine to basically be fruit juice.

"Thank you," I said, ignoring the comment and taking a sip. I pulled in my wings a bit so he had some room to move around. "So on a scale of one to ten, how tired are you?"

"Gosh, like an eleven, probably," Niall sighed with a small chuckle. Without the kids around, he made no efforts to hide the sleepiness in his puffy eyelids, or the weariness in his shoulders.