She was flown ever higher, needing to feel the heat.
It fuelled her, revived her, gave her credence, respect, and a meaning.
Of course she knew of Icarus.
She solved this annoying problem by using her patrons as shields. Human shields.
Shields protected her from the heat, while giving her altitude. A wonderful symbiotic relationship. A win-win situation.
Oh, the flyers enjoyed the ride for a while. Prancing and preening, dragging the inconspicuous rider along with them – carrying her upwards, higher and higher to the strains of her childish and innocent pleas. She urged them, goaded them, scolded them, loved them.
They shone in the bright light, were little stars for a short while. And despite knowing how it would end, they were caught in the rush. They, too, knew of Icarus – but it didn’t matter. Their’s was joy of companionship. A relatively small sacrifice. Nothing really – just oblivion.
The molten blobs of fame covering her back were the mark of her success.