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Summary
Staring at his reflection, Sunday growled, digging his index and thumb into his good wing and found the base of a feather. His eyes remained unblinking as he yanked, the quiet patter of blood and feather falling onto the ground below.
He plucked again, and again, careful not to pick any spot where the raw skin would show.
A fitting punishment, for desiring his sister.
In other words: A very brief dive into Sunday's psyche and his relationship with desires, and how that influenced his perceptions of Robin.
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