Chapter Text
Tap.
Tap tap.
Philza shuffled a wing across his face, burrowing into the pillows beneath him. He’d been awake for at least an hour now, but the calm, cool morning of winter was just too relaxing...so quiet. So peaceful. His only time to rest his mind before the day began-
Taptaptaptap!
He lifted the wing, glaring between dark feathers with narrowed, deathly eyes at the murder of crows at his window.
They croaked happily as he noticed them.
Phil groaned. It was still dark, still an hour before dawn. But, he’d have to get up anyhow.
Taptaptaptaptap!!!!!
The window rattled.
Phil hissed, stumbling out of bed and flinging the windows open, swatting at the excited flock outside. His fingers latched about the neck of one of the slower crows, who he could swear, despite its capture, had a smirk about its face.
“You mother fuckers!” he brought the bird’s beak up to his face, glaring daggers into its eyes. “Couldn’t let me have one Prime Damned hour to myself could ya?!”
“Awk!” The crow ruffled its wings, unafraid in Phil’s grip about its neck, and nipped playfully at his nose. “Fucker! Fucker!”
Philza sighed, chuckling as he released the damned bird. It hopped up onto its usual spot on his shoulder, still swearing.
“Fucker! Fucker!”
“Oi! Shut it!” Phil tapped its beak as he closed the window, allowing the one crow to remain inside with him. Though the others returned to their roost, just outside his window as he made his way back to his bed.
He took a seat as the crow hopped off his shoulder and began to attempt preening his feathers.
He grinned at the thing’s stubborn attempts to pick through the comparatively massive feathers of his wings, before he stretched out his limbs. Arms, legs, finally wings, sending the poor crow squawking angrily at the interrupted preening.
“Fucker! Fucker!”
“Yes yes I know, you dick head.” Philza stood, ruffling his wings. Flexing them as he shuffled out of his nightclothes and into his usual tunic and trousers.
A faint, barely visible streak of pink dawn-light began to appear on the horizon as he made his way downstairs, crow on his shoulder once more, picking at his hair as he shivered slightly. His feathers puffing up in the chill, winter morning air.
“What say we gets a fire goin ey?” he gave the crow a little scritch on its head as he knelt beside the hearth, poking through the still orangey coals until they glowed a bit brighter, before placing a few more logs onto them.
“Fuck!” the crow croaked.
“Then get some breakfast made up for the boys.” Philza ignored the obscenity as he watched the flames take light upon the new logs. “Thinkin’ some bacon? Egg pie?”
The crow clicked its beak.
“Nah yer right mate, Techno’s got that thing about bacon.” He stood, hugging his coat about him tighter as he made his way into the kitchen. “Egg pie it is then.”
The crow abandoned its perch on his shoulder, fluttering onto one of the chair backs beside the stove as Philza set about the morning preparations.
He’d grown accustomed to working in the near dark, with both his mining and his getting up before dawn, dim lighting was nothing new to him. ‘Old folks habit’ Techno would laugh. And, he supposed it was sometimes. But if anything, that was Techno and the boys’ fault.
Constantly waking him up, running through the halls, roughhousing, screaming, laughing, occasionally breaking the odd dish or tripping over their growing legs. He’d begun to wake up at least an hour or two before they did, if only to have some time of peace for himself before he began to set up for the day.
He chuckled at the memories, cracking a few eggs into a bowl and whisking in some herbs.
Wilbur and Techno had been handfuls as babies, the twins constantly creating chaos wherever their tiny legs could toddle to. It didn’t make matters any easier when Techno had discovered the boar pelt and decided to just...become a wild pig whenever he didn’t want to take a bath.
Should’ve kept the chest locked up better… Philza had chided himself at the time. But he had known the selkie child would have found it eventually, much like how he had found his own feather cloak all those years ago.
He grinned, adding a handful of grated cheese into the mixture before him, tossing a few flakes to the crow. The little thing gave a delighted, almost purring sound as it gulped down the morsel.
He wondered, as he turned back to his tasks, when Wilbur would get his pelt. He’d been surprised when Techno had found his as young as he had, normally the pelts wouldn’t appear until the child’s early to mid teens, and yet Techno had found his at eight. And had taken full advantage of it whenever he could, chasing Wilbur and little Tommy through the halls and barreling into them, laughing.
Until he had grown to the age that tusks began to appear on his pig form. An accidental cut on Wilbur’s leg and that was the end of roughhousing while wearing the pelt.
Though, that didn’t stop the chasing.
Or the roughhousing while in human form.
Phil’s thoughts were broken by the loud, startled ‘Fuck!’ of the crow as it flapped towards his shoulder, almost glaring at whoever had spooked it.
“Daaaaaaaaaad!”
Philza turned to see Techno, his hair disheveled and dark bags under his eyes, holding a squirmy, blonde pig creature by its fore hoof.
“Tommy stole ma’ pelt again!” the young teen whined.
Tommy, appearing as a bipedal, caramel coloured pig, still in his pajamas, was stomping angrily. Hooves clicking against the floor as he squealed, tugging against the older boy’s grasp.
“He won’t take it off!” Techno finally released the...piglet? And pouted. “It’s too early for this, ‘m tired.”
Phil sighed, turning the stove off and placing the pan to the side so it wouldn’t burn, before kneeling before the still stomping piglet.
He crossed his arms.
“Tommy,” he chided. “You know that’s not nice, give Tech back his pelt.”
The boy’s ears flapped as he shook his head, stomping a hoof emphatically.
“Toms,” Philza gave his wings a light flap, just enough to get the boy’s/piglet’s attention, before reaching up to his shoulders. “That pelt is very special to Techno.”
He slid his fingers beneath the collar of his tunic, tracing out the patterns of magic that lined his skin, carefully separating his cloak from himself. With a gentle flick, his wings vanished, and a dark curtain of feathers fell softly against his back.
He swished it from his shoulders and gingerly laid it before the boy.
“Our pelts are very special, Tommy.” he explained, pointing out the shimmering black lines left behind on his shoulders and the lightly glowing edges on the cloak where the two had once connected. “They’re like very special puzzle pieces, made just for us.”
“And it’s very uncomfortable to not have that piece,” he continued, giving the piglet a light pat on the head. “And I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable to force yourself into a piece that doesn’t fit, right?”
The blonde piglet’s glare finally seemed to falter as his shoulders sagged.
Tommy shook his head, clearly as uncomfortable as Phil had guessed he was. As fun as it must be for the boy to steal Techno’s pelt and run about with it, Phil knew from experience that wearing another’s pelt could feel downright skin crawling at times.
“Like wearing your shoes on the wrong feet, huh mate?” he grinned.
Tommy nodded.
“And I’m sure Techno feels like he’s walking barefoot through the snow right now, seeing you in his pelt like that, huh?”
Again, Tommy nodded, glancing awkwardly to his older brother.
The older boy groggily returned the nod.
“Can I have it back now?” Techno held his hand out expectantly.
Tommy nearly stumbled in his efforts to run his fingers along the sides of his face, separating the pelt from himself with a light shimmering of gold against the boar cloak, returning to his usual human self before handing the cloak off to Techno.
The older boy pressed the boar head hood to his chest, hugging it tightly, glaring at Tommy.
“So Tommy, what did we learn?” Philza returned his own cloak to his shoulders, shuddering slightly as the wings took shape and reappeared once more against his back, much to the small crow’s delight as it began to preen the feathers.
“Pelts are-are vewy special.” the toddler nodded.
“Very special.” Phil took the boy’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “And?”
“And it-it is not nice to-to wear them when-when they are not yours.” Tommy hung his head.
“Do you have something to say to Techno then?” Phil added, glancing at the older boy, still clutching the boar skin pelt to his chest, as if a light breeze was about to tear it away from him.
“Mm!” Tommy nodded, then flung his arms around Techno. “ M’ sowwy!”
The older boy pried the toddler from him.
“....’pology accepted.” he muttered before making his way to the table, stroking the now normal pink fur of the boar skin.
Philza chuckled as Tommy looked at him, confused.
“Waz...waz a-apowogy ask pect ed?” the toddler asked.
“It means he forgives you.” Philza threaded his hands beneath the boy’s arms, hoisting up onto a chair at the table.
“Waz fo give?” Tommy asked, eyes straying to the crow on Phil’s shoulder.
Before Phil could respond, the little bastard of a bird squawked.
“Fuck! Fucker! Fucker!”
“What’s a fucker?” Techno asked from the far side of the table.
“Fuck!” Tommy squealed in delight. “Fuck! Fucka! Fucka!”
Philza groaned, pressing a hand to his face.
Prime damn that bird!