strange birds
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If the GPDA notes were to be believed, only champions had ever received wings after the final race of the season, exclusively in the manageable size described in Seb's notes, like Lando's, in FIA-sanctioned colours. There was no recorded incident of any kind of deviation, but then. Things were not always recorded for a reason, and George had gradually learned that the absence of a thing in the official record keeping held a very different kind of weight.
Still, moments trickled back to George from the second half of the season. Horner's sacking, Red Bull's almost miraculous comeback, Max hunting other cars down for pole positions and podiums. Red Bull gives you wings. The team had, in horrible irony, seemed to have somehow manifested their tagline. Max had embodied that team in a way that had been awesome and terrible to see.
Series
- Part 1 of strange birds
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Moonlight spilled through the gap in the curtains, and Lando’s eye finally caught on the gleam of silver and gold stretched over his shoulders in hundreds—no, thousands of feathers.
His wings. His eyes followed the downward sweep of them to where they emerged from his back, connected to him.
Max had been right—both of them, really—Lando had gotten his wings. And they would almost be beautiful, except for the fact that he could see his fingers through them.
OR WDC winners get wings for a few days. Lando's got his after 2025, but something's not quite right.
Series
- Part 2 of strange birds