Beneath Shadows and Secrets

♔ 𝕿𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶 - 𝕾𝔦𝔵 ♔

♔ 𝔑𝔦𝔯𝔞 ♔

Greesh has done his best to speed my healing. Now, it is only sore rather than raw, which is something I can contend with. It is unfortunate, however, that while he has done all he can for the excruciating pain, there is little he can offer me to abate the overstrain of my muscles.

With the wings hanging from between my shoulder blades, leaning limp towards the floor, my entire balance is off. I am having to tighten my stomach to stand straight and my back strains under the new weight of these extensions. More than that, I have become more aware of their presence. If I tense my back as I did before, the wings both twitch – lifting off of the floor before dropping with a deflated thud.

It had taken his warm glowing hands running over my wounds, a touch that made me wince and groan, but he had done it quickly. The last of the skin and flesh knitted together until around the base of my wings was repaired. Within reason – Greesh outlined the likelihood of scarring far less delicately than Calix had managed. That, which I had not even known was a possibility. He also said, no matter his skills, or the rate at which I could heal myself, if I were to strain these wings too much over the next few days, the wounds would only split open once more.

Therefore, he asked that they remain out for at least two full turns of the sun. I am to only flare them gently, to lessen the stiffness that they have. I am to ignore how heavy and how much of a nuisance they are. I am not to practice retracting them until Greesh has cleared my wounds capable of handling such, and even then, I must release them too so that I can adjust to the new weight distribution.

My argument had been that once these wings could go away, they likely would never be out again, but Greesh was quick to dismiss me.

"Those wings are full of muscle that will grow stiff and loathsome of confinement when tucked away into your back. You will need to exercise them, otherwise the pain will follow your forever, and forever is a very long time for a kind like us." He had said, and that had been the end of that.

Of course, he did not mention I needed to learn how to fly with them. The idea of looking to Tynan for advice on that matter petrifies me, so I will be doing no such thing. I have managed fine without flying before, and will continue to do so. Besides – I have Vasami now. She can fly for the both of us.

There is also the small, very naïve optimism, too, that if I keep my wings away, they will not interfere with the shift or form of the Barguest. A ridiculous notion really, and I know that too. If the two forms are bound to wreck my body, they will do so whether they are present or not.

"If you need more tonic Miss Daenira," Greesh says, inspecting my wings. He has done this particular visual assessment three times already, but I let him carry on. To deny him would be to subject myself to another droning lecture on what it means to be a medeor. I sit on the bed edge, tattered bloused tied in a makeshift band to cover my breasts and freshly stitched wounds.

It had not been the most conscious effort on my behalf to remove the clothing. Greesh took that upon himself, slicing it from where it was already torn. It is stained with brown and green, red too, from my blood. I have not failed to notice that the skin of my arms, hands and face are twice as filthy as the skin of my stomach. I suppose, though, I have not had a minute to bathe since we left Xandara, and I have rolled in grass and dirt since then.

"Are you listening?" Greesh demands, lifting my wing again. In truth, I am not, but I will never admit to such.

"Everything is fine. Thank you. I will ask for more tonic if I need it, and will stick to your healing schedules." I lift my attention to the knock at the door in time for Calix to show himself.