Alone With Him

A shaking Shrike.

He woke up in a cold sweat, there was a sickly feeling in the air. He inhaled from under the sheets and smelled blood, sweet intoxicating blood.

Wilbur sat up and looked around, a little groggy but awake. He glanced at his alarm and took a breath, he had 20 minutes to get ready to go. Looking to his side Wilbur saw his bird wasn't laying in bed with him, he got up from bed and began to search doing his best to ignore the scent of fresh blood.

He pulled on his pants before searching his relatively empty base for Quackity. He would ensure that his avian saw the things he was capable of.

"Quackity? My angel? Q?"

He called out every name he had for the little bird but there was no reply. Frowning Wilbur instead turned his attention to the blood smell that would not get out of his nose.

He followed it to a room he very rarely entered, he had planned to make it a bedroom for Quackity or for any children he took in. He tended to bring in young kids of the street and help them if he could. Helping anyone he could, without a licence and without having to worry about how politicians felt about him.

Apon entering he was greeted with a beautiful sight. Quackity in a deranged state, wings and hair equally messed up, hands coated in the sticky sweet liquid.

He must have heard Wilbur's footsteps because when he tried to approach his angel Quackity bolted over knife ready and pupils wide.

Wilbur simply phased through the bird's attack and smiled. His angel was fighting his instincts, that much he knew, his bird was violent and fast. Quackity chased after him with purpose and drive. A hunting bird but not a large one, a little bird with gray and brown wings. A shrike.

His angel was a shrike, a beautiful little butcher bird most famous for their violent methods of attracting a mate.

His angelic little songbird shrike seemed to settle down slightly when Wilbur started to sing to him.

His pupils shrunk very slightly and his wings tucked in close, still in his dazed and bloody state Quackity walked right over to Wilbur dropping his knife. He nuzzled into Wilbur's embrace making quiet chirping sounds, very sleepily the avain looked up at him mouth stained a little more crimson than it normally would be.

"Hi there angel, you feeling sleepy? Do you want to take a nap?"

Quackity nodded tiredly and slumped into his chest, Wilbur lifted him up and carried him to their shared bed. Not that it ever felt shared, Quackity slept bundled up in the small nest Wilbur made for him on one half of the bed and Wilbur had to sleep as far from him as possible or else the avain would complain all night not letting either of them sleep.

He set Quackity down on the bed with some struggle. The shrike seemed to not want to let go of him, tossing and shaking in the nest every time Wilbur stepped away.

He swore silently to the gods above and XD below that he would take a few photos of the sleeping shrike to print out and put on his wall.

Walking out down the halls back to the sweet scented room, he was curious of course as to what exactly his angel did.

(Little bit of gore)

Strewn across the floor was organs, small blood soaked bits of bird. A sparrow must have flown inside when Quackity was still deep in his instincts, the ravenette must have hunted it all the way from the kitchen. The only room with windows was a decent walk away, how had he not heard his angel?

After cleaning the lasserated carcass out of the carpet Wilbur realised it was much too late to make the morning news, he'd have to show his power tonight instead. Trudging back into the bedroom he found Quackity methodically preening and plucking his feathers, until exactly 3 seconds after Wilbur stepped foot in the room because before the brunette could react the shrike lept into his arms chirping happily.

"Hi there pretty bird, feeling better?"

Quackity nodded, the shorter staying practically attached to him as he walked back to the bed. He thought the shrike would get off to burry himself in the warm nest on the otherside of the bed but to his utter shock, the shrike stayed close to him. Nuzzling and chirping Quackity stayed clinging to him, he stayed so close and Wilbur could feel his little bird's heart thundering.

He actively pushed closer to the villian, ignoring the fact that both their hearts where racing wild Wilbur felt calm for the first time in a very very long while.