"Birds of a feather," Jax muttered, echoing an old proverb his grandfather used. "We aren't the same, Jax," Kaelen countered.
"No? We’re both sitting in a basement, hiding from the same police, trying to keep a world from ending. If we're both flying toward the same sun, does it matter whose wings are real and whose are scrap metal?" [S1E2] Birds of a Feather
Kaelen’s polished exterior cracked, showing a flicker of genuine fear. "Because up there, we’re all gilded cages and scripted smiles. My father wants to glass the Lower Rings to build a 'scenic park.' You’re the only one with the tech to stop the launch." "Birds of a feather," Jax muttered, echoing an
Jax, a scrawny mechanic with grease permanently etched into his cuticles, sat across from Kaelen. Kaelen was a High-Flyer, a literal citizen of the floating Upper Spire. He wore silks that cost more than Jax’s entire workshop, yet here he was, nursing a glass of fermented sludge in the slums. We’re both sitting in a basement, hiding from