Chapter Text
The first thing Grace noticed about Stratt when she wasn't working was that she was longingly fixated on the sky. The second was that she never actually flew. He wasn't even sure he'd seen her wings not folded tightly against her back. She wasn't the only person with wings on the ship, far from it, but she was certainly the strangest about it.
Grace didn't fly much either, more for fear of ending up in the ocean, but at least he stretched his wings from time to time. He found himself staring at her wings after a meeting. The feathers were scruffy and a little matted, and metal bands were hidden under the fluff of her primary and marginal covert feathers. He couldn't even tell what she was; muted brown feathers aren't exactly uncommon and with no knowledge of her wing shape, he had no lead.
He shook his head. He should be getting back to work, not wondering what Stratt's wings may be. Grace stretched his own wings, stiff from the shitty folding chairs pressing them up against his shoulders.
If he noticed Stratt's unreadable glance as he turned to go back to the lab, he didn't give any indication of it.
Stratt did her best not to feel envious of Grace's wings. His were taken care of, completely silent, and, most importantly, free. He could fly if he wanted. He could stretch and move as he pleased.
She had already given up on flying again. Even if she could get the stupid bindings off, her flight feathers were clipped. If she knew the logic behind it, maybe she could accept being grounded. But from what she could tell, she was the only avian on the entire project who wasn't trusted not to fly. At first she thought it was because she was a falcon, but then others of the exact same species of falcons were brought on and left free, so it couldn't be that.
The only conclusion she could come to was that she seemed too powerful with both the world in her hands and her wings unbound and whole. Which, in her opinion, was bullshit. She didn't fit the stereotype that falcons seemed to have; she wasn't ungodly fast or energetic or flighty. At least, she wasn't particularly flighty until her wings were clipped.
Stratt sighed, pulling herself out of her sulking. This was her lot, it was no good to huff and pout over it. She rushed back to her office, masking her irritation. Her wings felt heavy on her back.
"Useless, its useless to dwell on." Eva hissed to herself as she kicked the door to her office shut. She told herself she wouldn't fall for the laundry list of psychological issues that came with being grounded. Obviously she was stressed, the world was ending! Who wouldn't be agitated having to deal with obnoxious politicians all day? Of course she was uninterested in things outside of the project, she had a job to do.
Eva glared at her desk. She was getting worked up over nothing. For the first time in ages, she actually wanted to fly. Just to burn off some of this restlessness. But it wasn't an option now. Thanks to wingless executives who snatched her out of her peaceful, simple life and threw her to the wolves to manage this doomed fucking project.
In a moment of pure frustration and anger, Eva flung her laptop at the wall. The open screen shattered on impact and keys scattered across the floor. She stared at it like a deer in headlights. Impulsiveness wasn't a familiar vise.
She turned sharply, leaving her office altogether before she did something else destructive. She wandered aimlessly, completely zoned out as she pretended to check in on whoever noticed her hovering around until she ran into Grace.
"You okay?" He asked immediately.
"Yes." Stratt nodded, putting up the usual mask. "Just restless, not enough to do today."
Grace raised an eyebrow, his wings puffing up the way they always do when he really wants to call bullshit on something.
"Wanna go for a walk?" He asked instead. "Fresh air should help."
Stratt nodded, leading the way out to the deck. Her wings shuddered in the wind. Grace let the silence stretch exactly as far as it took to get out of earshot of the lab.
"What's wrong?" He asked bluntly.
"I broke my laptop and I'm putting off trying to explain it to get a new one." Eva sighed. It was the truth, if omitting the reason she broke it.
"You can't have done worse than me, I think I've broken three by sitting on em." Grace offered with a small smile.
"At least you can pass that off as an accident." Eva rolled her eyes, mildly amused. "I don't think its possible to shatter one and dent the wall in the process and call it an accident."
Grace looked immediately more concerned. "You shattered it???"
Eva ducked her head, ashamed. "I didn't mean to."
"Well- yeah, I assume so. Now I'm just really worried." He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You've been.. off, the last few days."
She sighed, looking up at the cloudy sky instead of him. She was aware of the longing in her eyes. "I know. I've certainly felt off."
".. Do you know why?" Grace asked.
"I have an idea of why." She evaded the question.
The conversation sat at a stalemate. Stratt didn't want to say anything about her wings and she was hoping Grace was too polite to point out the obvious neglect. She bet wrong.
"If the state of your wings is anything to go by.." He started hesitantly.
"I'm not allowed to fly." Stratt admitted. "I haven't for almost two years now."
Grace stuttered a gasp, his wings puffing up and raising into an aggressive pose as he processed exactly what she meant. It looked a little ridiculous, but it was.. nice. It felt nice to have someone understand and validate the unfairness.
"Why?!" He hissed. "They can't just- ugh, wingless fuckers!"
Eva's eyes widened at that. She'd never heard him cuss before, let alone curse someone. "They told me it was for security reasons." She muttered flatly, biting down on the spite that threatened to creep into her tone.
"That's absurd! Nobody else is restricted!" Grace shook his head. "Why do you even listen to such a dumb rule??"
Eva pulled her wings in tighter. "I.. I can't.. My wings are bound."
"Not if I have anything to say about it. Let me see." Grace said, visibly holding back his rage. She remembered his hatred of wingless parents that bound their kid's wings so they wouldn't have to deal with them.
Eva turned, letting him see the metal bracers holding her wings in a folded position. She tensed when he touched her feathers, suddenly keenly aware of the state of them. She stopped bothering to preen after a while and it was visible.
There was a click, and another, and her wings were free. She let them slump open, stretching out the stiff joints. It felt good, finally being able to move. She stretched her wings up over her head, feeling the wind on them. She saw the mix of horror and hatred that filled Grace's eyes at the clipped feathers.
"They clipped your wings." He stated. "As if it wasn't enough to- They- God! What is wrong with some people?!"
"Some falcons can out-speed their fancy jets. They don't want me to fly away." Eva huffed. "Not that I could have, even with healthy wings. I've never been a sport flyer."
"You're a falcon?" He seemed a little surprised. "That's even worse! You can't be healthy without flying!"
"I can be healthy enough." She insisted.
"You just told me you shattered your laptop." Grace gestured at her wings. "That's probably why. We are mentally closer to birds than wingless people think, we go insane when we can't fly!"
Eva tilted her head, thinking about it as she stretched her wings. "I didn't know that. I know its better for mental health, but I never really thought about it."
"You.." He blinked, bewildered. "No wonder you've felt off for so long."
She folded her wings against her back again, now more comfortable without the bracers restricting them. "I used to fly to and from work every day, I've never been wholly grounded like this, if that's why you're thinking."
Grace nodded. "That.. yeah, that sounds healthy. Sorry for assuming stuff. I- God, I just can't believe they just.. I know you hate when I feel bad for you but I feel bad for you."
Eva gave a small smile. "I don't mind it this time, I think."
"Please tell me you won't let anyone clip your wings again." He sighed, wings settling back to rest.
"I don't think I have a choice." She shook her head. "No matter what I want."
Grace looked dejected. Then contemplative. They let the silence stretch again, this time more comfortable. Still tense, but now less agitated. Eva began pacing a small circle, holding her wings like she would to glide, and soaked up the wind. Grace was obviously thinking about how to help her.
They remained like this for a while, him sitting on the ground while she paced around him. Eva let her mind wander. Let herself imagine flying alongside him, racing the wind. Her wings would cut through the air while his would be utterly silent, the only thing quiet about him. She thought about not being embarrassed about her wings for once, if she preened them and made them look nice.
"There are more of us avians on the project than anyone wingless." Grace said finally, bringing her pacing to a halt.
"Yes..?" Eva nodded. "Elaborate?"
"If it became known that the governments funding the project were clipping and binding your wings, there'd be a damn riot." He explained. "I know you hate being seen as anything other than a dictator, but it might be the key to your freedom."
"But that could delay so much. I can't put the project at risk for my own sake-"
"But it wouldn't be you delaying anything. It would be the fuckers who want to keep you grounded. You don't have to bring it up at all until they come back to clip them again." Grace cut her off.
"Fine." Eva said finally. "But only when it becomes relevant."
"Of course." Grace smiled.
"In the meantime.. I have to get myself a new laptop." Stratt squared her shoulders and folded her wings. "And you have lab reports to review."
"Tired of me already?" Grace chuckled, but matched her, turning back to the lab. "You're right, unfortunately. I'll have those reports for you soon!"
"I expect so." Stratt nodded as they parted ways.
With a new laptop and renewed energy, Stratt breezed though her work long into the evening. She found herself with no more emails to respond to, and gave herself a moment to feel good about it. Who would have guess that idiots are easier to tolerate without her wings bound?
She pushed her chair back from her desk and maneuvered her left wing forward to clean the feathers. She started with untangling the loose and matted feathers from the salvageable ones, wincing at the places where the bracers rubbed raw and the patches she'd anxiously plucked away. No wonder Grace was always looking at her wings, the disrepair was obvious.
She almost snapped her wings back behind her when she heard a knock, but relaxed at the familiar rhythm.
"Come in, Grace." Eva called, returning to picking dirt and lint out of her axillary feathers.
"Got those lab reports!" He greeted cheerfully. He set them on the designated pile on her desk as he approached. "How're your wings?"
"Much better." Eva responded gratefully. "Just.. neglected."
"I could help?" Grace offered.
She looked up at him, caught off guard. It wasn't uncommon for avians to groom each others wings, but it had been years since she'd had anyone she trusted touch her feathers.
"Sure." Eva said after a moment. She turned to perch sideways on her chair as he pulled one up for himself. "As long as you don't pester me. I'm well aware of the state of neglect."
"Of course. No judgment here." Grace promised.
Eva watched over her shoulder as he preened the taupe feathers that were harder for her to reach. He was gentle, much more considerate than she'd been to herself. She saw him hesitate slightly when he found empty patches or disregarded scrapes. It felt nice to be taken care of.
"Did you pluck before you were grounded?" Grace asked as he worked, keeping his tone conversational.
"Sometimes. When I was especially stressed." Eva affirmed. "But never this bad."
"I can imagine. Good that it's not that much of a habit, though." He coaxed a loose feather out of a matted spot as he spoke.
"Did you see it much in your students?" She asked.
"Plucking? Yeah." Grace nodded. "And neglect. Usually from the kids with wingless parents. I'm trained to look out for it, actually. Wings say a lot about the health of an avian, you know? And plucking as a habit in kids is a sign of anxiety disorders or abuse happening at home."
"Makes sense." Eva hummed. "My teachers just tried to encourage me to join the flying sports teams because I was a falcon. And because my sister was the star of every team she joined. But I was.. well I was fast compared to my peers, but not unusually fast for a falcon."
He chuckled. "They were hoping for double chances on their teams. I don't understand it, really, gym teachers are way too competitive. Did you end up doing any sports?"
"No." She rolled her eyes, amused. "I helped my sister practice sometimes, by timing her or watching her form, but I never joined. We had enough contempt without a rivalry for that spotlight. I did compete in other things, though."
"Oh?" Grace encouraged her to elaborate as he moved to the underside of her wing.
"I was in choir for a few years, and a stage manager for theater." Eva explained. She took the opportunity to brag a little bit. "Both had contests with other schools, but not direct competitions. I did compete on the debate team, though. One of the best."
"That sounds about right." He grinned. "You could probably debate your way out of a cat's claws."
She laughed a little at that, surprising herself. It'd been so long since she let herself unmask and lighten up.
"That's the left wing taken care of." Grace added, brushing loose feather fluff off him into the little pile Eva had already started on the floor.
"I still feel like a stage manager some days." She mused as he started combing the feathers of her right wing. "Nobody else knows what they're supposed to do, someone manages to break something important at least once a week, so many emails.."
"I can imagine." He huffed a laugh. "You handle it too well not to have experience."
"I try." Eva sighed. She watched Grace for a moment, observing the way he smoothed over sections of her feathers when he'd gotten them clean. She wondered if he was keeping score of how damaged her wings were, by neglect or by being clipped.
His focused expression gave nothing away, of course. He seemed relaxed, despite the situation. Anyone else would never be so at ease in her presence. Even though he was so easily flustered and quick to downplay his abilities, he was the only person who treated her like a person.
"And done!" Grace chirped. "Better?"
Eva looked over her wings, now smooth and neat. "Much better."
She stood up, stretching her wings out and fluttering them a few times. The clipped feathers would grow back in a few months at most.
"Promise me something?" Eva turned, folding her wings back.
"Of course." Grace said instantly.
"I want to fly with you, once my flight feathers grow back."
"I promise we will."