Chapter Text
“Wick, how are we going to get back to the Villa Aurora like this?!” Tyranny shrieks.
“I don’t know!” he shrieks back.
It’s been a few minutes since Wick had to unleash some divine power that he was still getting used to, dealing with some…unsavoury characters connected to the Sundered Houses that he couldn’t properly negotiate with, and the wings haven’t gone away.
“Maybe we can spin it like your dad?!” she suggests.
“No, no! Grandmother won’t accept an excuse like that!” he tells her. Not to mention they’ll have to figure out how to even enter the Villa without suspicion. Just him and Tyranny alone, okay. But a giant set of wings too? That’s an issue.
“Shapers tits…” he hears Murray softly exclaim, and he turns to see her looking in curiosity and awe. Both Azune and Hal are working on figuring out how to cover their tracks after a few minutes of panic, but her…
He bites his lip.
These wings are much heavier than the last time he had unleashed them, less ethereal and much more real. It nearly has him falling to the ground. They feel massive.
“Can I touch them?” Murray asks, and there’s no denying that hint of eagerness in her voice. She’s a professor at the Pentaveral thrust into one chaotic situation dealing with Celestials. He can’t exactly blame her.
He gives the slightest nod, and immediately lets himself crumple to the ground to allow her a better view. There’s a loud thud! that accompanies, wings hitting the ground and dust coming up in clouds, and it lets him get a better view.
If it weren’t for the physical and mental weight that they gave him, he would call them gorgeous. They’re not corporeal like they had been before and are missing that glow, but they’re still a blinding shade of white and if he looks at them from a certain angle, he can see a golden gleam that reminds him of his connection to the Shaper of the Sun.
Murray’s fingers lightly pass over some of the feathers at the end, and it makes him shiver and his wings ruffle. There’s the slightest gasp and a growl from Tyranny, and that makes him let out an apology.
“Makes sense that they’re sensitive…” the wizard mutters like she’s taking down notes, and her nails rake through the feathers a bit more intensely. He shivers again, but there isn’t any ruffling. It feels…good. Odd, but good.
Murray moves on between his wings, and he can feel her prying where his clothes tore a bit further.
“Holy shit,” he hears her say.
“What?” Is there something wrong? He doesn’t feel anything outside of the wings, but what if—
“It’s like you’ve had these things the entire time!” she exclaims, “Usually, you’d expect for there to be some broken skin or irritation, but there’s nothing like that. They’re just…there,” She sounds near giddy, and for a moment, he hates it. But then he realizes the advantage of having somebody there to help understand them. As a member of a Sundered House, he has access to a plethora of information, but a member of the Penteveral didn’t have an image to maintain and had an intimate knowledge of properly gaining that information.
He takes another glance at the wings, watching Tyranny prod at a feather that he feels. They’re gorgeous, yet a sign of a dangerous heritage and it makes him afraid, knowing what happened to his grandfather.
(They disappear a few minutes later. It’s a collective sigh of relief, but they know it’s something they’ll need to look out for.)