Falling.
It was a strange feeling, having the bottom of your stomach nervously tied in knots, feeling the air rush past you and whistle in your ears, the chill pervading the air and dampening your clothes.
The only thing you could see was the blur of the blue of the sky and pale white of the clouds as you fell past them, arms spread out as if you were embracing it all, back to the ground, a nervous smile on your face- a tinge of nausea present.
It was strange to give yourself up to the wills of gravity and the air currents, to just plummet and scream because you could and it was dying to be let out. It went against every natural urge, your instincts screamed and your nerves were afire, adrenaline surging through your body and all you could do was scream and laugh at the same time- sounding almost hysterical. Echoes of your own voice rang in your ears.
It is a horrifying experience.
At the same time, it was an amazing feeling. You forgot yourself in the rush, losing yourself in the moment, worries and obligations shucked off as easily as one might rub off lipstick or drop a crumpled tie onto the ground.
Exhilarating was what you'd say if you really had to describe it- you felt like you were floating on air and on top of the world, while at the same time that everything was so, so wrong, and yet so right- no puns intended.
You're still careful however, free-falling is dangerous, and delightedly tipsy and lightheaded as it makes you- your sense of caution is still present. You'd rather live to do this again, rather than enjoy the lingering mix of nausea and intense thrills for a little longer than you really should and plummet to the ground- and your end.
Turning over would only make you feel ever sicker than you already are and over tip the balance of carefree pleasure and sickness, so you close your eyes instead, loosing the view and the visual distractions, concentrating.
Your fingers twitch slightly, numb and probably reddened by the cool air you're passing through, each breath growing easier to take as you relax yourself, and with a quiet "Up," the winds change their natural direction and form an air cushion of sorts.
You can sit on it, its solid and firm, so you do, and open your eyes, a flick of your wrist sending you on a more paced out and slow descent, a more enthusiastic grin on your face as you wave to Dave who's waiting at the bottom, nibbling on the skin on his lower lip in anxiety. He's probably been worrying the whole time, the worrywart.
"Love yah you big dork!" You yell at him, still high up enough you have to for him to be able to hear, and a relieved smile spreads on his face, even as he shouts back a reply.
"Right back atcha Egbert!"