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“Parrot,” Wifies says, one summer day. Late-morning sun bright overhead, fake green leaves and artificial pink flowers in full bloom. Sickly-sweet scent hanging in the air, tasting of white lies and making Parrot feel nauseous. Black, impenetrable obsidian walls just in his peripheral eyesight - never free.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to need you to hold still.”
Alarm bells start ringing in Parrot’s head. “What?”
“Just for a second, I promise. It won’t hurt at all.” The cruel, quiet snip-snip-snip and the soft rustle of feathers hitting the ground.
“Wifies - what are you -” He whips his wings out of Wifies’ reach, spreading one to examine it.
“Parrot, I wasn’t done.” A long, jagged cut along his flight feathers, nothing but the brutally cut ends where bright cyan should be.
“Wifies - what-”
“Parrot, I have to finish it.”
“No - no, Wifies. Wifies. What did you do to my wings?”
“I clipped them.” Matter-of-fact.
“Wifies - I - these are -” Stares fixated at the empty air where his feathers should be. They’re gone. He won’t be able to fly. He’ll never be able to fly, ever again. He vomits onto the grass, dull off-yellow shade mixing against the too-bright, fake green.
“Parrot? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. You clipped my wings! You clipped my wings!”
“It’s for your own safety.”
“I don’t need to be- I-” He has no more words left for this monster, this shell of his best friend. Nothing he says will get through to him, anymore. Wifies is gone and dead in the void - he died when ash pulled his stasis, leaving behind this ghost, this spirit. “Just leave me alone,” he says through sobs, sprinting far away to a ravine where he will cower until the sun sets on Paragon.