Work Text:
Carefully, Castor sews the feathers onto fabric. It's delicate work, but important work — he has to make sure that each feather lays flat atop the one beneath it, lays flat against the black fabric of the cape. It's a self-assigned task, to be sure, but Castor won't cut any corners regardless. It's a gift, for Sylvester, and it's the best way Castor can think of to ensure that even if he isn't by Sylvester's side, his boyfriend can still be protected by Castor's feathers.
He's been working at it for some weeks, and by Castor's best estimation, he's almost finished. The outside of the cape is missing only a few feathers on the very edges — Castor's feathers will moult soon (he can feel it, the skin beneath the feathers itching and needling at his mind), and the flight feathers needed will soon be shed. It's a gift, and Castor wants it to be perfect — each feather shifts from black to brilliant emerald, where the light hits, and Castor can faintly see the d-slime within the hollow part of the shaft. The feathers blend into the cape, but the soft, pale gray down sewn onto the upper half of the cape's inside stands out in stark contrast to the red fabric lining it.
Castor hums to himself, satisfied. Soon. Sylvester had been wondering where his spare cape went, but soon Castor will be done, and can gift it back to his lover. (He hopes the feathers keep Sylvester safe. He hopes that the down keeps Sylvester warm, when Castor isn't there.)