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Tending to wings was a ritual far more delicate than one might first assume. Elizabeth had grown used to Nerissa’s long bedtime ritual, watching as the girl settled into the rhythm of meticulous preening, weaving her fingers through every feather, ensuring that each one would settle in their rightful place.
And Elizabeth adored watching her sort through her feathers. She adored the quiet reverie that took hold of her beloved raven and forced her to slow down for a while, and adored the way serenity draped over her shoulders like a blanket, fingers combing through the dark plumage with measured tenderness that bordered worship. It was in these quiet moments that Nerissa seemed most at peace, lost in the care, oblivious to all but the rustle of shifting feathers.
Elizabeth’s favorite nights were always the ones when the hush of the night would start working its spell on her sweetheart. Slowly, Nerissa’s lashes would start to flutter more than usual, her head dipping when drowsiness started to take over, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile.
“Nerissa, are you tired?” Elizabeth’s voice is soft when she asks, deliberate so it doesn’t startle her.
A murmur escapes Nerissa’s lips. Neither agreement or denial, just a sleepy sound before her actual reply. “I’m almost done,” she insists, though the words unravel into a small yawn. “Just a little more…”
Elizabeth exhales a chuckle, amusement threading through it. For someone with insomnia, Nerissa always seemed moments away from falling asleep.
“Go on now.” Elizabeth coaxes, reaching out so her fingertips trace the feathered softness. “Lie on your stomach. I’ll finish for you.”
There is little resistance. After a second or two, Nerissa shifts to obey Elizabeth’s instructions, her wings half-spread atop Elizabeth’s legs, welcoming the comfort. The world slows when she first slips her fingers through the silken strands of black.
It was a familiar ritual for Elizabeth as it was for Nerissa. After so many years of tending to each other, it was only natural that Elizabeth had learned the meticulous craft of caring for Nerissa’s wings. Not that Nerissa ever easily surrendered the task to her— her feathers are precious, each one meticulously groomed, an act deeply personal to her. But there were rare evenings like this, when the drowsiness and exhaustion allowed her to take up the careful work.
And if Elizabeth was honest, she adored the feel of Nerissa’s feathers beneath her fingertips.
“Okay…” Nerissa murmured around a second yawn, shifting on her stomach to burrow into the pile of blankets and pillows. Though, instead of closing her eyes, she was already reaching for her phone. Elizabeth shook her head, amused. Keeping Nerissa still was already a challenge, so she simply let her be.
She reaches for the bottle of oil resting on the bedside table, tilting it just enough to drip on her palms before rubbing them together, warming up the liquid until it’s a soft sheen on her skin. She knows exactly where to start— the quills near Nerissa’s spine were the hardest for her to reach and they often would be neglected when she was exhausted like this. So, with deliberate care, Elizabeth pressed her thumb and forefinger to the smaller pins teetering on the edge of shedding, coaxing the budding feathers free with slow, practiced movements. The powdery layer crumbles beneath her touch, just as dust would blow under a breeze.
Nerissa’s wings fluff instinctively at the foreign yet familiar sensation. A quiet, satisfied hum escapes her little blackbird, and Elizabeth could already hear the smile on her voice.
“You’ve gotten really good at this,” she murmurs, her eyes focused on the scroll of the screen.
Elizabeth’s smile grows, pride pooling in her chest. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, princess.”
“I like when you call me that,” Nerissa mutters, her voice honey-thick with sleep.
The instant reply made Elizabeth chuckle, the sound warm and affectionate. She leans in, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades, the bare skin soft beneath her lips. It’s a fleeting touch, yet somehow trying to communicate feelings words could not.
Devotion was deeply threaded into the gesture, soft enough to dissolve into the hush of the moment. The love she felt for Nerissa defied reason, stretching past the limits of rational thought, unraveling into something that ached in its intensity. Even here, in the same room and the same bed, the longing remained. A quiet yearning that knew no distance and always demanded for more. She wanted to dissolve into her, sink beneath her skin and exist within the same breath. It was love teetering on the edge of madness, and Elizabeth welcomed it with open arms.
“I know,” she murmurs against her pale skin, lips grazing over the warmth of it, a whisper laced with that quiet laughter when Nerissa’s feathers puff up at the sensation.
Elizabeth eases back, delighted at the sight of a blush blooming at the tip of Nerissa’s ears, betraying whatever cool indifference she might have tried to maintain. She doesn’t need to see her face to know the shy smile that must be tugging at her cheeks. And hopefully, it’s tethered with the same happiness Elizabeth feels when they’re together like this.
That’s all she ever wanted, truly. To cradle Nerissa in all the comfort and care she could manage, in the kind of love that settles into her bones and a warmth that mirrors her own.
She resumes the work, hands threading with quiet reverence across her wings and lets herself be soothed by the rhythm. The simple repetition of fingers gliding through feathers, smoothing over pins and coaxing them into their respective alignment. Elizabeth marvels at them— at their impossible softness and the way they catch the light.
A little grin sparks in her voice when she says, “I should start collecting the ones you shed and turn them into a pillow.”
A moment passes— a little pause of quiet bewilderment— before Nerissa lifts one of her legs to deliver a light kick to Elizabeth’s back with a playfulness. She laughs, the sound bubbling up in her throat.
“That’s how it is?” she teases, rubbing the spot where Nerissa’s heel landed like it had been painful. “I take care of you and this is the thanks I get?”
Nerissa giggles, half-drowsy and half-amused. “You’ll live.”
Another chuckle escapes her, a short shake of her head, before her fingers return to finish the work, relishing in the affection that accompanied the intimacy of caring for her lover’s wings.