Chapter Text
A thick cloth is over Wilbur’s eyes. Schlatt mutters something incomprehensible, a brief fleeting touch on his shoulder, making him flinch against his bonds. The rope cuts into his wrists that are tied to the back of the chair, his wings layered on top of them, tied down as well.
Wilbur shakes his head attempting to shake the blindfold off. Schlatt chuckles, a low sound that shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is.
The scraping sound of a knife being sharpened. Echoing off the wall if the small room.
The light touches to the feathers lower down on the wings, making him flinch away only to get nowhere.
The feeling of Schlatt stroking where his wings meet the skin of his back, where the feathers got smaller and more sensitive.
The knife scraping against the small feathers.
Blood dripping down his back as he screams. Begging for Schlatt to stop. Begging for anything but this. Begging for Schlatt to just kill him instead.
The blindfold removed, world tilted and sideways from the floor. His vision blurry on the edges, fading into darkness.
Sharp black shoes, loud on the stone floor, walking away. Pausing for a second at the door, turning back. Schlatt’s face caught in the flickering torchlight.
“We couldn’t have you trying to take back Manburg, now can we?”
Wilbur bolted up with a start, the last few dregs of the dream still in his eyes, souring into tears. Feeling for the comfort of his own feathers, only to stutter out a sob when he felt nothing. His own fingers grasped desperately for a second, only feeling the scarred bumpy skin with just a few feathers left. He curled in on himself, more sobs racking his body violently.
The light from the lanterns in the rest of the ravine shined through the slats in the door. His own sobbing was far too loud, part of him worried about waking Tommy or alerting Techno, the other half only mourned. The smell of damp stone did nothing to settle his nerves. He faintly thought to Phil. god, he missed Phil. He wondered his dad would think of him losing his only physical feature they shared in common, fuck, losing the only connection to him.
He faintly heard ringing in his ears as he remembered "Can't have you trying to take back Manburg" His thought taunted, playing the memory again. His breathing hitched and he felt like screaming. Wilbur tried to think back to what he used to do when he had bad nightmares. Fly around with Dad. His memory provided unhelpfully, rubbing salt into an open wound, Ironic in the worst possible way. He could almost hear the cruel laughter of the ram from here laughing.
God he was gonna make Schlatt pay.