Wings

3: You And I Drink The Poison From The Same Vine

A/N: Fun fact: Will and Nico have different religious beliefs in this story, so you'll notice them using different religious systems in their language. Nico is more likely to say, "Oh, Hades," while Will is more likely to say, "Oh, God." Just a fun little tidbit for you :) more on the religious systems will be explained later if I have time in the story to do so

Also, to avoid the story moving too quickly, I've decided to add in one extra chapter before the chapter that you guys are going to hate. So you have one more chapter of "Learning To Trust Each Other" plot points before the "oh god oh fuck please no" plot points start. Enjoy it while you can <333333

WPOV

Track: Daylight, David Kushner

Nico di Angelo is, without a doubt, malnourished.

He spread out the berries and roots before me proudly as if that would be a reasonable amount of food to last us the entire day. I'm pretty sure I could eat all of it in one sitting. How has he survived so long on such small portions? He must hunt, I guess, but even so, I don't think the man in front of me is exactly healthy.

Nico is also exhausted. I think he really stayed up all night—now, there are deep, dark circles under his eyes. I wonder if he slept the first night we were together—maybe he didn't sleep then, either. Has he been awake for so many days in a row? How is he functional?

"Breakfast," he says, gesturing at the fruit. "And also lunch and dinner, hopefully."

I glance between the food and him, and judging by his expression, he really sees nothing wrong with this. How long has he been living like this—hungry, tired, and alone? Not to mention running from hunters all the time—he lives in a tree, for God's sake.

I pick a handful of berries and eat them one by one from the palm of my hand. I want to ask him if he's ever lived alongside humans before—or is living in a nest normal for people like him? I'm not sure if that would be culturally insensitive though—there's not exactly a rulebook for how to live with bird-people—so I decide to set that question aside for now.

I estimate what approximately one-sixth of the pile is in order to make sure I don't eat more than my portion. Except that when I finish my sixth of the pile, my stomach rumbles.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I'm, uh, not used to this yet."

Nico frowns at the berries. "You're still hungry? I thought this would be plenty."

I swallow thickly and say nothing. I don't enjoy implying that this isn't enough for me. I want to be grateful—but the loud sounds of my stomach yelling is a pretty difficult thing to hide.

"I could try hunting today, maybe," he says, and he sounds a little hesitant. "I can try to get you something more filling for lunch. Go ahead and eat as much of this as you need until you're not hungry—we'll figure out our other meals later."

I feel more than a little guilty about this, and I guess he can tell because he rolls his eyes and throws a berry at my face. "Or you can just sit there and mope, I don't care. But if you're grumpy today because you didn't eat enough, don't blame me. You have free reign over all of this food. Alright?"

A small smile tugs at my list at his feigned apathy—I think it's pretty clear from how hard he's been working to keep me alive that he does care whether or not I feel hungry. I pick up another handful of berries, and Nico continues snacking on them as well while he gathers the blankets and folds them back up to return to the corner of his nest.

"We could go into town for lunch," I suggest before popping another berry into my mouth. "I'm sure we could be sneaky. We could find a way to cover your wings...and my face."