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The first time CC-2224 saw General Kenobi, he’d thought he was an angel.
He’d heard about the Angels of Iego from the other vode, that the Separatists were trying to force them from their homes, yet General Kenobi did not quite match the descriptions the vode spoke of. Rather than six wings, as the Angels of Iego had, from what CC-2224 could see of General Kenobi from his position above them, was that the man had two wings. They shone the same copper colour as his hair, tapering off into white at the tips. He looked like the sun.
Eventually, CC-2224 became Cody, and General Kenobi became Obi-Wan. It was a quiet moment between them, Cody sat on the Generals small sofa, and Obi-Wan on his meditation cushion, both doing datawork, when Obi-Wan broached the topic.
“You’ve never asked me about my wings, Commander.”
Cody’s eyes flicked up from the datapad, as he looked at his General, his cyar’ika.
“It’s your body.” Cody replied.
Obi-Wan’s cheeks dusted with pink, as he glanced away from Cody for a second. It was true that Cody had never asked about Obi-Wan’s wings, beyond asking him if they had been hurt in battle. It was also true that on every single diplomatic mission Cody had assisted Obi-Wan on he had watched as each and every person demanded to know everything about his General’s wings, much to his General’s discomfort. Obi-Wan would simply respond “They’re my wings,” to every question, to every demand to know about them, and swiftly change the topic. If Obi-Wan wanted Cody to know about his wings, then he would tell him of his own volition, not because Cody needled and pressed the answers out of him. He simply didn’t need to know.
“I am from Stewjon,” Obi-Wan began, setting his datapad down next to him, which Cody mirrored.
“All the inhabitants of my planet have wings, and there are similar tales about us as there is about the Diathim. You may know them as the Angels of Iego. Stewjon is isolationist, so I am afraid I do not know why we evolved to have wings. Some of the only information I have been able to procure from them was how to take care of my wings. Come here,”
Cody immediately followed as beckoned, sitting cross-legged in front of Obi-Wan, as the man stretched one of his wings to the side.
“May I take your hand?” Cody nodded wordlessly, and allowed Obi-Wan to place his hand at the top of his wing. It was soft, but warm.
“These are the marginal coverts,” He explained, running Cody’s hand along the part of the wing he was talking about. “Where the wings connect to my back is called the scapular. I suppose you can think of them like a shoulder,”
Cody listened with rapt attention, almost overwhelmed with the trust that had been bestowed on him. Obi-Wan moved his hand downwards, the feathers tickling Cody’s fingertips.
“These are the secondary coverts, they are the most sensitive to me,” His hand was moved to the bottom feathers. “And these are the primary coverts. My wings are shaped the way they are because they are adapted for speed.”
“They’re beautiful Obi-Wan.” Cody said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Another piece of information I was able to find was that on Stewjon, the gifting of feathers can mean many things,”
Obi-Wan gently pulled Cody’s hand from his wing, bringing it to his lips to kiss softly. “One of its most prominent meanings is as a symbol of good luck.”
Here, Obi-Wan paused, and fluttered his wings, their copper colour shimmering, even under the fluorescent lights of the Negotiator. With his free hand, Obi-Wan picked up a feather that had fallen to the ground, and brought it up to where his and Cody’s hands intertwined.
“Primarily, however, it is a symbol of love.”
He placed the feather in Cody’s hand, and Cody accepted it with a gentle kiss.