THINGS from my Word Doc.

#9 - NOT THE GHOST

wow guys

im still writing this

will be updated randomly until i give it up

:3

(btw + will now be the 'being written' symbol; - is 'updated recently'.)

(rewritten: twice)

~

Feathers.

Everywhere.

Grian woke up, covered in said feathers, each a pure white color that almost glows in the daylight. He sat up, studying the fallen feathers with fear and intrigue- a curious feeling that swirled in his stomach, filling him with excitement.

This shouldn't be happening. It'd been a decade since he'd lost his wings- limbs don't just regrow wishy-washy, trust Grian, he'd attempted with magic at least a dozen times.

So what changed? Why now, after he'd grown so used to being almost human? ("Instincts may fade after the removal of hybrid-specific limbs," an article declared. He felt numb in the moment.)

What was he even going to do about this? Grian didn't mention or bring up his lack of wings. He didn't chirp or nest. It was perfectly reasonable for everyone to assume he was human, considering he also didn't even try to correct these assumptions. Correction would mean questions, about why he was like this.

Grian didn't want to explain.

It was about now that the delirious, dreamy feeling of ("oh my god, I have wings- wings?!") turned to sharp panic. He had wings. He had to explain, tell everyone about how he'd lied for the years he'd been here, reveal secrets Grian had been keeping for far too long.

or..

He could pretend to be a hatchling. Like this hadn't happened when he was a small 12 year-old, still reading YA novels and chatting with Sam & Taurtis.

I mean.. it's morally grey, but.. What other options does Grian have?

Right. He glanced back, seeing the feathered limbs- small and tiny, excitably flapping like a madman. It filled him with concern and gitty excitement, which had to be a side-effect of his now-returning instincts.

Maybe he is a hatchling. Weird.

Whatever. Grian grabbed his com, taking a breath before typing in the main chat.

Grian-

guys. Something happened.

Doc-

what did you do. If it involves my machines, Grian, I swear..

Grian-

{FEATHERS??.JPG}

I just woke up like this???

Joel-

mate i think you killed a chicken in your sleep.

Grian-

There's something else...

{WINGS.JPG}

There was silence in the chat for a second before it was alight with activity again, which was mostly people panicking before Stress & Cub  'diagnosed' him with being a hatchling. After that, the shift was instant. Suddenly, everyone was trying to figure out what to do- bring blankets? Food? Scar finally settled it with a suggestion of a server-wide sleepover in the community nest. He garnered lots of 'yes'es, including from Grian.

So, he got to work cleaning up the feathers scattered around his room from moving, considering the rabbit hole he was definitely falling into here.  It would probably be just fine, unless someone noticed the jagged scars that marked his previous wing roots. Although, it'd be hard to pick out the matching two among his sea of other scratches and dents.

The day actually went by fast, while it was mostly Grian clearing feathers that seemed to never stop appearing in corners he swears he checked before, mixed in with him just flapping and folding and enjoying the fact that he had wings again! And a viable excuse! It was all perfect!

He just needed it to remain that way.

...

It'll be fine.

He finally noticed the time and started to pack a bag- mostly just a knitted blanket and his wonderful parrot stuffy, Prof. Beak. Grian switched into old pajamas from when he was 15, meaning they had full slits for his (currently little) wings. Grian fondly remembers his old wings, which had an amazing 11 foot wingspan and vibrant colors that caught everyone's eye.

(And then they caught Sam's.)

He shivered and sighed, stretching his wings and arms before exiting his little fisherman's hut and mounting his horse.

Off they go!

--

The ride was fine- Pluto did try to spook randomly and bolt to the side, but that was expected. He was a fearful horse, afterall. Apparently, Grian was the last to arrive to the large hand-crafted tree that held the community nest, where most people exchanged blankets or just chilled.

He'd really avoided it, not wishing to bring out faded & dormant instincts. Now, however, it filled him with a juvenile curiosity and a deep sense of home.

The nest itself is filled with warm lanterns, and cheerful chattering drifts down as Grian moves up the hidden staircase up to the bundle of woven blankets.

"The man of the evening!"

Grian gives a lopsided grin as he reaches the top, climbing into the soft and plush nest that had just about everyone inside at the moment. It was all of his goofy family. His flock.

That deep sense of home inside him shifts into some sort of warmth, that delightfully burns like a sweet flame. He settles by his fellow Magic Mountaineers, tucking his wings in.

False & Wels, the other avians, catch his eye. They approach him, wings half-flared (a falcon & an eagle, respectively) with excited smiles.

"Welcome to the avian team, Grian!"

"Why, thank you. I'm honored."

Both step away, and friendly conversation begins. This is often how sleepovers go, until someone pitches a drinking game or some other dramatic game of dares, and things go to hell quickly. It's fun, though!

Ren invites the idea first.

"We should play a game of.. truth or dare."

He got mischievous glances, which are totally agreements.

"Alright! Let's start us off strong... Grian, truth or dare?"

Grian grinned, shaking out his wings.

"Dare."

Ren took a second, grinning at Grian with a glint in his eye. Oh god, what had he agreed to?