Richard takes a moment to look out the canopy. Tendrils of bright light arc across his field of vision, almost as blinding as the white-hot ball of fire they emanate from. The sun sinks slowly into the horizon, setting the skies ablaze in a raging inferno and casting the jungle below in a deep orange hue. Purple shadows speckle the landscape, stretching infinitely in the other direction.
All is quiet in the skies above Malanta, at least for the time being; a fitting end to what has been an uninteresting and uncomfortable flight across the Kirazan wastes. Worse for wear after spending long hours in a cramped roosterpit, Richard is eager to come down for a hot meal in the company of friends and a good night's sleep.
Friends. It's been months since he had last seen his squadmates. He could hardly remember what their faces looked like. He'd read the reports, kept up with the news. People came and went. Even though Richard wasn't particularly close with anyone, the part of him that appreciated even the littlest sense of familiarity felt somewhat saddened by the idea that the squadron he was returning to wasn't quite as he left it. It's enough to make him wonder if he still had a place in the ranks of the 514th.
I'm being ridiculous. Casting his thoughts aside and returning his attention to the matter at hand, Richard turns on the roosterpit light and goes over his kneeboard. The approach chart details a reasonably straightforward ILS pattern. The landing gear drops. A few turns and some radio communications later, Richard intercepts the glideslope, pulls back on the power lever, lowers the flaps and begins his final approach. The Raven holds a steady descent all the way to flare height, touching down with a loud chirp. Richard taxies off the runway, and the tower directs him to the designated hangar.
holy loving stuff my last rp post was almost 200 pages ago
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