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He'd like to preface this with the fact that he does not hate the ocean. Okay?
Wifies likes the ocean as much as any other person.
He just hates sand in his wings. And how sticky the sea breeze can be. And how much his wings drag him down when they get wet and waterlogged. And how it takes forever to dry out his feathers. And then getting bits of sand and seaweed out.
But he doesn't hate it!
Just. Dislikes it. Okay?
So why did he choose this to investigate?
It was interesting, he guesses. The email and then the mystery and now.
Hummer.
He's eccentric, that's for sure. Maybe a bit lonely? Or unused to people taking him seriously about this. Wifies is still trying to figure him out.
But, at the least, Hummer seems to know what he's talking about. He has water breathing potions and shows Wifies what he needs enabled on his comm to show notifications for sounds and identify a targeted entity and entity counts and more.
It's a lot.
It's thorough.
So he admits he's not too worried off the bat when Hummer shows him to the little elevator (a bit too small for his large wings, and it pinches at him a bit uncomfortably-) and sends him down without much fanfare.
Swimming has always been hard with his wings. Owl wings tend to be more water resistant than water proof, but he's learned how to navigate with them. If Wifies were a normal human, he's positive that he'd be considered a strong swimmer.
Still, it's annoying how quick they soak up water, getting heavier and heavier on his back.
God, he can't wait to get back up.
The ocean cold seeps into him slowly, and Wifies shakes it off as best he can as he swims around, keeping his eyes peeled for anything of interest.
It's rather uneventful, if he's being honest, and he spares a thought to how annoying it's gonna be to rid himself of the salt that's seeped into the feathers. They're trying to puff up to warm him up, but, well.
They're soaked, of course.
His breathing is starting to feel a bit shallow, and he checks the time left, seeing about a minute. Time to head back, then.
His shoulders burn as he makes his way back, the thought of getting out of the water making his brain weary with the weight of feathers already. It'll be over soon, at least.
Wifies swims into the clearing, eye on how little time he has before he looks up to see the elevator.
…The elevator that's. Not there.
Uhm.
His fingers fumble with the communicator as he messages, asking Hummer where the elevator was. Asking if he brought it up, saying his potion is almost out.
There's no response.
Death is nothing to them, really. He's spent most of his childhood in a world with a respawn system, and then some time messing with hardcore worlds.
So it's not scary.
But it still fucking hurts.
Lungs choking as it tries to get air but it inhales water instead, wings twitching frantically underwater, vision darkening. Trying to swim to the top but knowing that it won't help because he's loosing strength and his vision is fuzzing and-
Wifies wakes up in a bed, gasping. His wings feel horrid, still damp. Sometimes it happens in a respawn world, not letting the body completely reset.
He feels gross. And upset.
And then Hummer rushes over to him, asking if he saw anything, and the anticipation in his voice leaves Wifies a bit confused.
That's how Wifies learns about Hummer's theory.
And then about the museum.
His wings still feel gross through it all, and Wifies just. He needs a quick breather. A small break.
So they row back to the little house and Wifies goes to find a grassy clearing to sit in, letting sun and the normal, unsalted breeze of a forest sift through his messed up feathers that itch. And he breathes.
Hummer has followed him, of course, more confused than anything. Not confused enough to voice it until Wifies sits down, far away from the sea.
Wifies notes that Hummer seems much more anxious away from it than he is.
The sun warms him up, at least, his clothes no longer oppressively damp but still a bit grimy feeling. He'll change them later, though.
For now, his wings take priority.
"So uh. What are we doing here?" Hummer asks, still fidgeting mindlessly at the edge of the clearing. He's tugging on his sleeves, the puffy material stretching and then snapping back when he releases it.
"I'm going to preen my wings," Wifies says, wings in question fluffing up and twitching. "The sea water irritates them, and they didn't reset with the rest of me after I drowned."
Hummer doesn't flinch at the slight dig, instead inching closer to peer at the wings. They're almost striped, if he had to describe them, dark brown and tawny. Too many years spent reading books about birds as a kid has him almost positive that they're closest to a great horned owl.
They're funny looking birds, with feathers that resemble too big eyebrows. Despite that, though, they still manage to retain some of that aura of wisdom that feels inherent with most owls. Sharp eyes that look like they know too much and an almost serious expression.
Some avians get instincts from the birds they're based off of, and while Wifies has never really gotten much there, he's almost sure his better than normal vision, especially at night, might come from that.
"They're pretty," Hummer offers after a moment of looking. Wifies shrugs, because they are, usually. When there isn't seaweed and kelp and sand and sea water sticking them together.
"They're a mess," he says instead, and gets to work. Wing extended, then tilting downward so he can reach. They're damp again, Wifies having come across a lake on the hunt for the clearing and taking a dip to rid his wings of a bit of the offensive residue that sticks to his wings.
They'll need a proper wash with some soap and clean water, but that will have to come later. Not enough time now.
He reaches over his back to let his fingers gather some of the oil in his glands, and then he gets started.
Wifies slowly sets to straightening out feathers, putting them back in their neat little rows and waterproofing them with the oil. He picks out any detritus as well, finding slimy pieces of seaweed clinging to feathers and flicking it away with a barely suppressed shudder. It'll be harder to get to the feathers closer to his back, but he's used to that.
What he isn't used to, or even prepared for, is the hand that reaches out to touch his other unpreened wing.
It immediately has him fluffing up, twisting around to glare at Hummer. A half preened wing bats at the hand, too, then pulls away to tuck itself tight to his body with the other.
"Dude, what the hell? You don't touch someone's wings without asking," he snaps, bristling.
Hummer, despite not having a face, manages to project the aura of a kicked dog. The hand that was outreached is pulled back to his chest and he wrings them anxiously, glitchy TV head tilting left and right as he looks around.
"Sorry, sorry! I just… thought I could try and help?" Hummer says unsurely. "I didn't realize it was so…"
"Startling? Rude? You're supposed to ask before touching people in general, you know." And maybe he's being a bit mean! Maybe he's still just a little pissed off that Hummer let him drown earlier, even if he had some weird reason for it (that didn't work, but he's not gonna let himself linger on that lest he gets even more upset.)
So yeah, he's a bit mean.
Unfortunately, it dissolves a bit when Hummer wilts even more. Wifies sighs, resisting the urge to scrub a hand that's still slick with preening oil down his face.
"Do you know how to?" he asks, instead. Because they're gonna be working together for a while longer, and Wifies refuses to be mad the whole time.
It's called professionalism.
It's not because he feels bad.
Hummer perks up a bit, the static sound (embarrassment, maybe? Or maybe it just appears when he's having stronger emotions) kicking up for a bit before cutting out. "Yeah, uhm. I mean, it's been a bit, but I've done it before."
Well, that doesn't inspire much confidence.
"You just make sure the feathers are lined up neatly, pick out anything that doesn't belong and the uh. There's glands at the base of my wings that produce a type of oil that you need to apply to the feathers. It helps them be a bit water resistant, but it only does so much," he explains, showing him what to do while he explains with the wing he's working on. "I'll tell you if you mess up, at the least."
Hummer nods, hands still held close to his chest. He doesn't seem nervous, at least, so Wifies lets go of the wing he was preening to let Hummer work.
Wifies still stiffens a bit when Hummer starts, fingers brushing through soft feathers tentatively. He forces himself to relax when Hummer pauses and pulls away a bit, fluffing up his feathers and then forcing them to lay flat again. "Sorry. You're fine, keep going."
Hummer makes a noise of assent, fingers back to sort through the unruly down.
Wifies very quickly learns that Hummer either remembers more from whatever friend he had before or is a quick study. He sorts through feathers with ease, nimble fingers picking out what doesn't belong.
The sun shines through the leaves, throwing dappled light onto the forest floor. It feels nice on his wings, the warmth seeping in where the cold had earlier. The feeling of Hummer's fingers sifting through his wings is nice as well, calming. It's almost sleep inducing, as his body slumps into the comforting call of his hindbrain chirping contentedly at him.
God, it's been a while since his wings have been preened by someone else. Wifies moves around a bit too much to have anything that his brain deems a proper flock, but he didn't think he was this starved for one. He's practically a puddle with barely any coaxing.
Hummer pauses for a second and Wifies makes a little squawk of protest, wings pushing back towards his hands before he catches himself. His face warms a bit, embarrassed. But the hands go back to his feathers, picking at them a bit slower now.
"Uh, sorry? You were just making… noises? I couldn't tell if you were upset or not," Hummer explains a bit unsurely, and Wifies can feel that he's more fiddling with a feather than actually preening. He fluffs his feathers again in hopes of him returning to the task. Fingers pause and then resume properly cleaning soft down.
Noises… oh. It's been a while.
He's making quiet chitters as Hummer works, content little sounds that leak out as more of that icky, grimy, gross feeling is picked away at, little by little. The areas that have already been cleaned up rustle in the wind a bit, lighter and soft and not completely clean without a proper bath, but it'll do.
"Nah, they're good noises. Just means you're not messing up," Wifies replies, shuffling his wings again. It disrupts Hummer's hands a bit, but he picks it back up as soon as Wifies settles down.
"They're kind of upset sounding," Hummer notes, more curious than anything. Wifies laughs a bit because yeah, they were. He doesn't fault the Hummer for thinking so.
"Yeah, owl sounds all kind of sound a bit creepy, I think. Even the nicer meaning ones. Probably because it's more geared towards defending territory than anything."
Hummer makes an agreeing sound, moving to the next wing as he does. Wifies frowns a bit, feeling the part closest to his back, where he can't reach, is still undone.
"Gimme as sec, I'll do those last," Hummer says, and it's almost teasing as he says, "They're a mess and it's probably best for me to get to through the easier ones first anyway."
Feathers that had fluffed (again, he notes, slightly annoyed) lay flat as he nods, Hummer having not stopped as he spoke.
He gets through the main bits of the wing faster this time, pulling out a broken or loose feather every once in a while as he does. Wifies had smacked that wing against the side of the water elevator rather painfully when stepping out of it, so it makes sense that side is a bit worse for wear. That and a few other mishaps, it's the wing he always pulls forward to shield himself subconsciously.
And then it's the part closest to his back.
Wifies, like most avians, have sensitive wings. In fact, preening with other birds is how some birds flirt/court/reaffirm their position as mates. The area that connects wings to the back tends to be the most sensitive for avians, as it's considered more for people who are close, like family, partners, or very good friends.
Hummer is none of the three, and Wifies has managed to let that fact slip his mind with the feeling of clean wings and warm sun and an almost content hum of static.
So he does, in fact, jump when Hummer starts sorting through the fluff at the base of his wings. It's like a jolt of electricity to his system, pulling up a surprised squawk. Hummer pulls away again, letting out a little confused noise of his own.
"Sorry, sorry-" Wifies says, hearing Hummer also apologizing behind him. What a mess.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Hummer asks, and his tone seems a bit stressed, static snapping in the air. Wifies shakes his wings out, trying to rid himself of the sensation.
"No, I just got startled, that's all," Wifies reassures, "You can uh. Try again, if you want." Now that he knows what's going to happen, it should be easier to manage.
Hummer nods, not that Wifies sees it, and fingers return to feathers already sorted. They sort through them again before slowly making their way towards the still unpreened ones.
The jolt is more manageable this time, now that he knows what to look out for. It's no less potent, though, and Wifies has to bury his head into his knees and focus on breathing for a bit.
He's sure part of his reaction is from not getting there preened by another person in years, but god. This is insane.
Eventually, though, it's bearable, and his mind drifts in the sensation. He can hear himself chittering again, sounds spilling forward without any conscious effort.
Wifies is melting into a puddle, wings sloping more towards the ground as he coos and squawks. There's a quiet sound of amusement from Hummer, but Wifies can't even really bring himself to care too much, submerged in the feeling as he is.
There's a little noise of confusion as Hummer pulls away, the man carding through sorted feathers one final time. "Okay, I think I'm all done. What do you want me to do with the feathers?"
Wifies straightens up a bit, sleep trying to tug at his mind. The sun is still casting its warm rays and the breeze still rustles the grass in rippling waves. His wings fluff up and then settle for a final time, and he let's out a satisfied sound at the feeling of nothing stuck between the feathers.
His eyelids feel heavy still, the siren call of sleep tempting him.
Still, Hummer asked him a question. "You can do whatever with them. They're kind of useless now anyway, that's why they've been shed."
"You don't… I don't know, save them?" Hummer asks. He's messing with the fluff, the feathers a mix of downy alula and coverts. There's even a single broken primary.
"Nah, makes no sense. My parents may have when I was younger, but after a while it's just keeping around something that's gonna replenish itself anyway," Wifies replies, the sentence petering off into a yawn. "You can have them if you want, though."
There's a quiet shimmer of magic as Hummer brings the feathers into his inventory, then, "You tired?"
Wifies hums quietly, moving his wing to the side as Hummer shuffles forward, settling next to him instead of behind. He hesitates a second before letting the wing curl around Hummer, feathers glossy with fresh oils. They're still a bit gritty and smell faintly of sea salt, but it's leagues better than the damp, fishy smelling mess from earlier.
There's still a faint exhaustion lining his bones from the death (man, that respawn sucked-) and he slumps again as Hummer runs curious fingers through the insides of his wings now instead.
Thoughts trickle slower and slower and Wifies can feel himself drooping like a flower without water as his body gets heavier. A hand tugs him closer, head going to rest on a shoulder. He breathes and it smells faintly of the sea, but he's too tired to let it bother him.
"Don't worry, I got you," is mumbled to him quietly, and Wifies lets out a sleepy chirp before falling asleep fully.