The Heroes Of L'manburg City - W1th3red_Souls

Playground Gossip - 4

32nd day of the 14th month, Reign of Craft,
Half-after dawn,

'Pledge on your wings, by our Lady we pray, '

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The first memories Philza remembers are of being warm, but fidgety. His mother had simply refused to let hime out anywhere. Philza was told to, "be patient" and his father showed a similar ideology.

So, with all the cunningness of a frustrated child, Philza did everything he could to win his parents over. He sat really still and did everything they said without question. When that didn't work he tried sneaking out of the nest. He earned himself a scolding and a rather embarrassing march back to the nest. Philza even tried pleading; his last option. Philza's attempts at stretching his legs outside were completely fruitless. So, now he sat curled up in a little ball of angry feathers, and flowy clothes.

Philza was rightfully annoyed, two whole void-forsaken days, stuck here under his mother's watchful eye, unable to do anything but sit. Well at least two days of being mentally present. He was bored. Really bored. To make matters worse his parents had been fussing over him like there was no tomorrow over his wings.

Philza's wings.

Philza was born with wings, like everyone. Small fluffy things that couldn't do anything. Then he had gone through his first molt. A rapid growth in the wings. Philza had spent the last forever, incoherent with pain.

But now he was better, the stabbing, shooting pain, and throbbing that had come on swiftly had left like it had come. During that time, he had been confined to the nest, hidden away under his mother's or father's wings.

But now he was frustrated and bored. Philza's parents had not even let him look at his wings, his own wings. No touching, nothing. It wasn't fair!

So, Philza was burning with energy and excitement as his parents left him for something or another. Philza didn't care why, because he'd be alone with his wings! Once he was certain the two older avians were gone, he twisted in the nesting materials, attempting to pull a wing around for inspection.

Nearly,

Almost,

YES!

Philza barely stifled a trill of happiness. He squashed his joy down to get a proper look at his wings. Still fluffy, but primary and secondary feathers had nearly completely lost the casings of the pin feather, protecting the feathers while they developed fully. The downy fledge-fluff still predominated, clogging up his wings, making them heavy. But the biggest change Philza could see as he strained to look over the top of his wing. It felt so stiff, ducking it lower was a struggle. The prime feathers were darker than his fledge-fluff, but they had pale gray diamonds on the widest, bottom part of the flight feathers. The diamonds got smaller as they progressed along his largest feathers to his smaller ones. Philza delicately ran a hand over the soft, sleek new feathers that had marked his first true molt.

Philza's mother's wings were jet black, like the churning seas of the void he had heard stories about. Philza had inherited his pale, sandy, endstone-coloured hair from his mother. Such pale hair was somewhat common among Avians. His fair skin, also from her. Philza's mother always compared his sharp, intense blue eyes to his father. His father's skin and hair were shades darker than Philza's mother. But the diamond pattern was most definitely from his father. Though his father's wings were a dark silver grey, with white diamonds. Philza's parents had said that the colour of his wings develops as he goes through molts. Maybe his wings would darken to black like his mother.