Had it not been for the deep blue sky, their glistening white form would have disappeared against cotton clouds. Yet there an iakan was, exhibiting their aerial dance, swooping up and over imaginary obstacles in wide, graceful turns. Concerns of gravity and aerodynamics appear to be too earthly to occupy much of their mind, it seems. To any sane eye, the absence of any vertical stabilisation surface incorporated into their design would be evidence of shameful engineering or a horrible accident, but the iakan did not care; they even seemed to relish in it, as flying perfectly horizontal morphed their form into an acute white shard cutting cleanly through the air.

They turned in a sweeping right-angle, garnishing the manoeuvre with an aileron roll and readied themselves for a touchdown: the aerosynth’s posture flared upwards, and for a brief moment as they drew closer, their blue livery finally relieving itself of reflected sunlight. They were only barely above the ground when they extended their four spindly limbs outwards. Their hind legs first planted themselves on the ground, followed shortly by their front arms. Dirt was unearthed and flung to either side as the 20-metre-long aerosynth came to an abrupt stop in the grassy knoll, with an airy crunch of the grass beneath the iakan’s feet.

Having settled, they limped towards you, their gait evident of unfamiliarity with walking on the ground.

"Sorry about that." They spoke with an uncharacteristically gentle tone, not needing to open their mouth to vocalise. "Got a bit carried away with the nice weather. But we should be in for a lovely cruise to orbit today, yeah?"

They were friendly, yet the disbelief that such a thing could exist lingered in your head, and so a terse "yeah" was all with which you could respond.