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Isabeau closes the door behind him, stepping into the rented room after Siffrin. "And– you're sure this is okay? You're okay with this?"
"Isa," Siffrin titters, "I'm the one who asked you."
"I'm just making sure!" He says, wringing his hands, "I know you... you said you liked touch. But your wings always seemed to be a... no-touch area? You've always said no whenever anyone asked, so..."
Siffrin sits down on the edge of the bed, setting to work unlacing his boots. "Well, it's just..." he waves his freehand around in a vague gesture, "when it comes to preening or… lingering touch of wings, it's sort of reserved for people you're really close with? I mean! I love you all! So much– but–"
Isabeau cuts off their back-peddling, holding up a placating hand, "hey, hey. You don't have to prove that you love us! We know! I think the whole Wishcraft–" he spreads his arm wide, the universal gesture for 'big', "–thing is proof enough for the rest of our lives."
"Hrmghhgh" Siffrin grumbles, cheeks darkening slightly in embarrassment. "Yes, well–" they clear their throat. "Preening. It's sort of like... bathing? In a way? Like... when you're young it's normal for a parent or older sibling to help you out with it, but as you grow up it becomes more… private."
Isabeau nods, waiting for them to continue.
"So it's... mostly reserved for, um. Lovers. Or I guess, really, really close friends."
It had been a bit since they properly established themselves as A Thing. But hearing Siffrin refer to him as a lover was something that Isabeau knew he'd be repeating to himself over and over in his head for the foreseeable future. "Right! That makes sense!" He replies, a bit too loud.
Siffrin, moves to take their cloak off, and then stops. "Are you okay with this? Are you sure you want to?"
"Yes!" Isabeau exclaims. "Yes, yes I do! I really do!" And he means it. Because Change it was rare to see Siffrin's wings at all, but when they were being shown off they always looked so soft and fluffy and the knowledge that he couldn't touch them was practically killing him until now. And Isabeau opted not to share that whole train of thought with his partner. He felt like maybe that little fixation may freak them out. "But, uh. You'll have to guide me through it? I don't know anything about wings, I wouldn't want to hurt you."
Siffrin laughs, "I can't really give you a science lesson, but I can walk you through how to preen, It isn't really that complicated." Siffrin slips his cloak over his head, folding it neatly and placing it on the corner of the bed. Isabeau can’t help but stare as their wings give a little involuntary shake, fluffing out feathers that had been flattened from being confined for so long.
They arrange themselves so that they're both on the bed, with Isabeau sitting behind Siffrin against the headboard. The latter's wings poke through a sleeveless turtleneck, with slits awkwardly cut in the back to make room for the appendages. Which... hurts the clothing designer in him. Just a bit. Maybe he should offer to hem those for them.
Note to self, Isabeau: when making clothes for Siffrin, remember to include wing holes.
Siffrin's wings aren't particularly large, when spread out they probably wouldn't even cover the width of their arm span. How he preened them all on his own at all was a mystery, it seemed like it’d be a bit uncomfortable to have to reach around to your back for so long. Though, considering his hair care or lack thereof, Isabeau wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't something he did often.
They do look... a bit messy, maybe just from being squished against their cloak all day. But they appear no less soft and fluffy than Isabeau remembered. Darkless feathers with pretty silvery ends. He clenches his fists tightly in his lap, and keeps his hands firmly to himself for now. "Alright, before we do this, if you get uncomfortable, or overwhelmed in any way, you will tell me, right? It won't hurt my feelings! I promise.”
“Yes, Isa, I'll tell you.” Siffrin sounds a bit exasperated, Isabeau probably sounds like a broken record to them. But he has to make sure!
“Okay, great! So… what do I do?”
“Right… um.” Siffrin spreads one of their wings a bit wider for Isabeau to examine. “Alright, so if you look you might see some… pokey looking things.”
“Yeah?” Isabeau wouldn't have noticed them unless he was looking specifically. But once he does, he realizes there were quite a few ‘pokey things’ amongst their feathers. They looked like tiny little porcupine quills, covered in a film of some sort. They looked uncomfortable.
“Those are called pin feathers,” Siffrin says, “They're like baby feathers, I guess. New feathers replacing old ones that may have fallen out during molting.” He trails off for a moment, “they're very itchy, and hard for me to reach…” he mumbles under his breath. “They're covered in this waxy material and that needs to be rubbed off so that they can grow in properly.”
They go on to explain further how to deal with pin feathers, telling Isabeau to rub the waxy part off between his fingers. They laugh sheepishly, “saying it out loud makes it seem kind of gross.”
“I don’t think it’s gross!” Isabeau reassures. Apprehensively he wipes his hands off on his pants, before carefully reaching for a pin feather nestled near the joint of Siffrin’s wings. Before he can get a hold of it Siffrin stops him.
“Oh- wait!”
It startles Isabeau, hand stuck hovering in mid air. “Yeah?”
“I know you’re going to be careful but… be really careful. I don’t want to stress you out or anything but if you accidentally pluck a pin feather it’ll bleed… kind of a lot.”
And Siffrin is worried about stressing him out? No wonder he never lets anyone touch his wings… yikes. Isabeau forces some confidence into his voice. “Got it. I’ll be super extra careful now!”
He waits for his partner to nod at him before continuing. Isabeau crafted his hands to be big, he wanted them to be big. Excellent for hand holding, great for firm handshakes. Though now, it makes him even more anxious about accidentally messing up. He takes a deep breath, before gently grasping the pin feather in between his thumb and forefinger. He feels Siffrin shiver a bit, but that wasn’t abnormal for them.
He finds out that, in an odd way, it's sort of satisfying to deal with pin feathers. Eventually, after a few feathers, he falls into a quiet rhythm. He watches as the tension bleeds out of his partner's shoulders and Isabeau’s hands become more sure and steady, until he feels comfortable enough to use one hand to hold the wing steady while he preens. Occasionally, a loose feather will fall out onto the bed. Siffrin says that’s normal. Isabeau wonders if it’d be weird to start a collection.
When Isabeau starts handling a tiny pin feather near the base of Siffrin’s right wing, their entire body shudders, feathers fluffing up and practically doubling in size. “Woah! Um–” Isabeau quickly draws his hands away, “you good? Sif? Did I hurt you?”
“Um, no.” Siffrin sounds a bit dazed. “No, you’re– you’re fine… it’s just. You’re touching my wings really lightly.”
“Is that bad? I’m trying to be gentle!”
“It’s not bad. It’s just giving me the wings equivalent of goosebumps. But, don’t worry, Isa, it isn’t…” They pause, Isabeau can practically hear their smirk, “Un- pheasant .”
Isabeau laughs uproariously. Bird pun! Yes! “Gotcha. Just tell me if it’s too much of a bird- en.”
“Well, so far you’ve been im- peck -able, actually. Your preening skills are hard to beak. ”
The double-kill! He has to take a moment to compose himself before getting back to work.
Once he’s finished with the right wing, Isabeau moves onto the left. But not before brushing his hand through Siffrin’s feathers to get rid of any stray wax particles. It’s also an excuse to pseudo-pet their wings, so that’s a plus. They don’t seem to mind.
“You know, um. During the loops, I considered… getting rid of them. I told myself that if I ever got out, I’d visit the nearest House and Change, just so that I wouldn’t have them any more.”
The idea troubles Isabeau, he can understand getting rid of body parts that just don’t fit you anymore. But… “Why?”
“They just got a bit tedious?” Siffrin shrugs. “It’s not like I can fly with them, I don’t have hollow bones. And they’re… small. Smaller than they should be, I think.
“And. The King had– has? Wings too. It didn’t feel great to share something like that with him. I guess I just felt ashamed of them.”
The King’s wings had been massive in his Wishcraft powered form. They’d been squished up against either wall of the chamber from their sheer size, feathers ruffled and unhealthy-looking. Despite what Siffrin said about needing hollow bones, Isabeau felt like maybe, if the King had wanted to, he could’ve taken off into the sky.
Isabeau runs a hand along the top Siffrin’s wing. “Do you still want to…? Get rid of them, that is?”
Siffrin doesn’t say anything for a bit, before replying with a hesitant, “I don’t know. Sometimes it… hurts. To look at them. It reminds me… of what I’ve lost.” He shifts so he’s leaning a bit into Isabeau’s chest, enough so that they’re just barely touching, but not so much that he’s halting Isabeau’s progress. “But, this part is nice. At least.”
Isabeau feels warm all over, “I’m glad!” He squeaks.
He lingers for a bit, even when he’s sure there aren’t any pin feathers left, straightening out any misplaced ones and feeling the satiny plumage. By the time he’s gotten his fill of their wings, he can tell that Siffrin is on the verge of falling asleep then and there, any anxiety felt before the preening session having faded away into nothing.
Keeping them steady with a hand on their shoulder, Isabeau gathers up all the feathers scattered on the bed, and lays them neatly on the bedside table.
“You can just toss those, no point in saving them…” Siffrin mumbles, eye half-open.
“I don’t want to! They’re pretty!”
Isabeau guides Siffrin into laying down against his chest, wings spread out over the comforter. No complaints are made, though that isn’t really a surprise, since they seem completely ready to conk out for the night.
You did that! A little voice in his head squeals happily, and he can’t find it in himself to shut it up.