Tightly his hand curled around hers, his expression turning serious. “Stare,” he told her, “They were not of my making, but that does not mean if I had found a less painful way before, I would not have considered it. However, now that this has occurred, we will deal with them. Work with it and-”
Roughly she wrenched her hand from his grip, the tears falling thick and fast. “You are cruel and heartless, Vitruvion.”
“What?” he glowered at her, his mood switching to match hers. “Because I refuse to remove something which is clearly a gift?”
“Many more things than that,” she spat back, but she did not put her hand back on the wing. Instead she held it before her, balling it into a passionate fist. “So many more. The slavery issue for one. I despise that. It's disgusting and brutal and you don't need it. Then there's the fact that you do not appreciate what I do for you. I fucking saved this city in your name, you stupid god, and -”
“You don't think I appreciate that,” Vitruvion shouted back at her, his temper clear. “I told the entire brother council that it was you, and you know yourself, Stare, that they represent the city - in essence the fact I own you - it was a formality born from when I needed for you to understand what power I had - have - over you and -”
“And then there is the fact that you made me immortal without even asking me!”
His hands flew up and he rolled his eyes dramatically, “For ball's sake, girl. Not this again. I explained my reasonings for doing so explicitly to you, and they are not going to change. What I did, I am proud of, because you are mine, whether you like it or not.” He stared at her shaking, frustrated body. “For what length of time are you going to remain irritated at me for that for?”
“A millennium at least,” she snapped. “Because it wasn't fair. You could have asked - could have even told me so I could have time to prepare.”
There was an empty, soundless pause. Then - quite suddenly, laughter as he burst into hilarity. It was done in such a way that he attempted to conceal it, his lips pressed tight closed and a hand laid over them. However, as Stare glared with fury at him, however that only made him laugh harder, raising both his hands again and grinning broadly. He ran a hand through his hair, now finally pulling it away to be behind an ear, as he shocked her into dumbness. All by the simple procedure of out of context laughter.
“What?” she growled after a minute. “What is so funny? What?”
“A 'millenium’? At ‘least?” he snorted, and his hand fell casually down to rest on the book. The tiredness in his eyes was gone, as was any indication of his shaking - which she was certain now had just been a trick of her mind.
Stare glared, her black intense and vehement. And for a long moment that was all there was - her brooding frustration. That was, until realised the futility of the length of years she had uttered. A millennium was indeed a ridiculously long time to plan for.
Her gaze dropped and she hushed out a sigh. Raising her hand to her brow she rubbed her temples, matting more feathers together in crooked, broken paths. For a while she did that, scratching at herself and trying fervently not to subject herself to temptation and wrench the wings again.
“Stare …” came the whispering voice. “Trying to rip those wings from your form will only cause more damage. They are a fully functional part of you, from your tendons to your marrow. I did an examination and even your nerves are intertwined and connected. To try to remove them now would be idiotic and costly.”
She froze as he spoke, her eyes fixed on a point of dried blood upon the ripped blanket beneath her. Slowly her fingers ceased their frantic movement at her brow and she was still, breathing though still accelerated.
“Stare?”
“Yeah,” she dismally answered.
“This is what it is. I will not take them from you, this you know, but I need you to accept that. I have an acquaintance at the university who may be able to explain more. My books can give little answers, aside from the suggestion that this would be a particularly apt direction for your race’s development.” His tone was soft and warm, intentionally chosen so as not to cause alarm. She listened as she gazed at the blood splatter, and attempted to calm her palpitating heart with steady, even breaths. And - it worked. Once more her breast ended up with a regular beat, a thud, thud of stable comfort.
“His name is Illiu. He is an academic of biology, that is his focus, he-”
Stare suddenly interrupted him, as a realisation of what he had mentioned before came to the forefront of her mind. “You examined me and found nerves? Did you -” her voice went to one of being terrified, “Cut - cut them open?!”
Vitruvion laughed again, and this time it was genuine amusement, without any kind of malicious intent. “My dear, I can see through your layers of skin. Only those who I know well, but you are one of them. If I so choose I could see past your feathers and flesh and gaze at your heart.”
A great pause. Gently she nodded, slowly before she resigned a sigh from her lungs.
“It's not once I often use, for obvious reasons, but I was concerned as to how connected these new limbs of yours were. What I can say is that they are fully attached to your body and thus you should be able to operate them.”
Alarm went into her system, and she glanced at him. “Operate … you mean?”
“Fly, of course, yes,” he answered as if it were the most obvious answer known to kenku-kind. Which, in some manner, it was. “What did you think they were for - swimming?!”
