He grabbed her shaking, hurting and terrified form and pulled it back closer to him. Savagely he gritted his teeth and tightened his grip around her as he knew he had to let this last. But what he could do - he had choices. He at least needed to let her know he was here. It seemed that through the agony she did not recognise his presence, possibly not even detect it, because the torture she was enduring was far too great.
“I am here, my precious one,” he whispered, his eyes full of misery for having her here, going through this and allowing it. The words he spoke he only did now, because if she could not understand that he was here, then she would not comprehend or even hear his words. “I will always be here, even if you detest me with all of your soul. I will never let you-”
“FUCCKKKK!” Stare yelled, “Fucking - HELP. SOMEONE KILL ME!”
But he didn't know what death would do now. She would come back, but the wings he could not be sure of. Simply, honestly, this was an unprecedented case. Neither had he seen this form of unsolicited limb generation, nor been this close to a kenku aside from her. Quite frankly, she was the most remarkable one of her kind in history, he was certain, and thus this was an original and novel experience.
But she was asking for death. It was that excruciating right now, that haunting, abhorrent and repulsive. Vitruvion set his jaw, determination forming into his mind. If it was that loathsome, that horrifying … he had endured this type of pain himself. When he had been tortured by his own father, the god of which he was a clone. When he had been reduced to nothing but a spasming, screaming ball of divine energy. When he had been cast away from his home planet in that state, with only a disgraced half-sister to give him some form of comfort …
Swallowing hard he closed his eyes and held her tighter to him. As fresh blood weeped over her back and her shrieks pounded against his eardrum he lifted the barrier between their minds that he had set - set in order so that he would not feel the pain that could translate to mental well as physical. Slowly he breathed, and tensed his body, seeing the frantic, chaotic disaster that was her mind right now. Then he dove with a mental connection into her being. Immediately he felt the twists of agony rippling through her, without any pause. He sucked in his breath and dove deeper still, forcing his way past the initial onslaught to his divine being and forged a way to her heart.
Her suffering, petrified heart. And he slammed his essence against it as new begging for death's glorious release cried out. As he felt the shudders of her body, and his hands became wet with the blood. He heard footsteps, and gasps, knowing that there were others now in the room, but right now he did not care for them. Because he had a task, he had a mission. To protect his own. His most precious of possessions.
“My Stare,” he murmured.
Then he urged his godly being around her core. He separated pain from body, and instead channelled it along golden, eternal cords, into his own form. The pain - truly it was terrible - but he could endure it better than her. He had before, he knew he could again. Letting it flow into him he slammed his teeth down hard together, likely breaking and snapping them but he had no will to let out a single sound. Instead he wrought the excruciation as an experience. A sign of devotion to her, even if she might never know what he had done.
As he dragged the pain from her into his own form he felt her body go limp in his arms. Still, he kept rigid, for it was part of what was keeping him sane. Her cries fell to silence, and instead she whimpered against him. The wordlessness went on, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whispers of - “My lord - my lord she has stopped screaming now ...” - but to those he ferociously shook his head.
For he felt a fresh wave of pain, and he breathed deep through his nose as yet again the wings formed. Full feathers now were growing, unnaturally fast and mighty. Ones that could carry her towards new, unknown heights.
He did not answer the suggestions with words - for to open his mouth was to utter screams of his own, and that was beyond the pride of this god.
Slowly hands and words left him. Quiet words of, “Leave them, everyone. Let's … let them be,” were spoken. And that was good. That was what he wanted. Still, he kept hold of his own dear kenku, the one he had selfishly taken for himself for eternity. Close to his heart he held her as the sun rose in the sky, taking all of the remaining pain that should have been hers. He went until he felt the hurt stop, and when it did he still clutched onto her. Into his arms she had relaxed a long time ago, slumped because of the blood loss.
When he finally let the connection go he fell down. He kept his eyes still closed as he collapsed down. Unsteadily he breathed, and he felt her slip into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness. Deeply, he swallowed, sucking in and tasting the crisp morning air. Someone had opened a window and a cold wind was now playing across his and her forms. He led one hand nervously and weakly slide over to where he had seen the wings plunge out - and true enough. Full, muscled and feathered wings now protruded proudly from her back.
Quaking, his lips quirked into a smile as he let out a sigh.
“You see what he can do together,” he whispered to the gently breathing woman in his arms. “Together, my dear one, we can conquer empires.”
