The siblings fell into the darkness, chill wind biting into any exposed skin.  It was cold so far up, even in July.  Izkry was grateful for the minimal training he'd had time to receive between arriving at the English base and them heading to France.  Bel had wanted more, but she'd learned quickly.  It wasn't so hard to angle herself to link up with her brother, and she gave him a rare smile.  They plummeted down, side by side, Bel counting seconds to figure when to deploy her chute.  For a stealth mission, you wanted to spend as little time in the air as possible, so it was best to drop as far as feasible before using the parachute.  When she reached the right number, she signaled, and angled off.  Moments later, two dark canopies blossomed open, one above each.

Izkry sighed in relief.  He always worried the thing would get tangled or something.  There was so much that could go wrong.  Of course his sister seemed perfectly calm, but he couldn't remember her being afraid of anything -- well, anything other than people and her powers.  Normal stuff didn't faze her.  The rest of the drop was simple, and he landed, though a bit hard, immediately shrugging off his chute and checking his gear.

Belasý had touched down moments before, her landing far more graceful than his stumbled one, and now she too had discarded the parachute and was taking inventory.  Satisfied she had everything, she took off her coat and folded it small to shove in her pack, along with her hat and goggles.  A raised eyebrow at Izkry asked him his status.

"Good to go," he replied in Swiss German, earning himself an elbow in the ribs and a scowl.  He winced and looked sheepish.  "Sorry Bel," he apologized, using German Standard German this time.  She responded with a sharp nod.  His French would mark him as an outsider -- even hers had a distinct accent -- but their German was flawless, and travel was not impossible, so their papers and covers had them as Germans.  "That or French," she reminded him, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

"Oui, bien sûr."  His flippant reply got an eyeroll, and Belasý turned away, looking for the others.  She spotted some of them, and waved Izkry towards Oscar, who she'd managed to keep track of during the drop, waiting for her brother to help the shaken man up before leading them toward three other shadows.  Those forms resolved into Ms. Dubois, M. Cambronne, and Ms. Wang, the latter having some trouble with her chute.

"The Meyers reporting in sir, madam," Izkry told their nominal leaders in flawed French. He wished, for what must be the millionth time, that he had Bel's way with languages.  She soaked them up like a sponge, as she did so many other things.  He was best with his hands, or an engine.