The Legacy of Dirty Birds

Goddess of Understanding and Love

After kissing Edwin, Calum wondered if he'd just been taught how to fly.

"Allu's holy blessing," Edwin breathed, his breath warming Calum's pink cheeks.

"Yeah?"

"Oh hush—"

Calum cut him off with another kiss, nearly tipping Edwin off his feet. He wanted to soak in every feeling from this moment. It was a taste he didn't know he'd been longing for. It was the taste of...cinnamon? 

"Speaking of," Edwin put a finger to Calum's lips, which annoyed him more than he wanted to admit, "You're weren't just pranking me that time we made a pact of peace under Allu, were you?"

That caught Calum off guard. "Huh?"

Edwin stared at him, and then just started laughing. He was laughing so hard he fell against the front door snorting. Calum was grinning, at what he didn't know, but seeing Edwin this happy sent a spiral of joy zinging through him. He was almost lightheaded, no wait, he was lightheaded. He was positively dizzy.

"What?" He crouched down next to Edwin.

It started snowing. It was a gentle, slow snow. He helped Edwin up and the two of them slipped inside, hand in hand.

Edwin glanced at him from under his eyelashes. "Allu is the goddess of easy temperament, understanding, but most famously, love."

Calum blushed at the way Edwin was staring at him, like he was...something to be marveled at, like he was a work of art under their god's careful hand. They pried him from the mob of nameless soldiers, leaned in close, and whispered all the sins he'd been taught to fear, but felt so good. If it felt he was beautiful, individual, and worthy of so much love.

"Oh," he put his hands to his burning cheeks. "Nah I...I didn't know."

All of a sudden, it was overwhelming. The stinking, rotting guilt grabbed onto Calum with an iron grasp. His fingers no longer just itched, they were full of pins and needles. He tried to hide it but it was too late, Edwin must have seen his face fall, he must have felt the change.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Their voice was soft. "Just like you said to me, we don't have to go so fast. You do...like me, right?"

"Yes," Calum blurted. "Oh gods, Edwin, I've wanted this for so long, too long."

Edwin's frame relaxed; he brushed his unkempt hair out of his eyes. "Let's sit down."

The bandages around Calum's fingers had frayed from all the time he'd tried to pull them off. Edwin ran his thumbs over them, gathering clues, letting the gears in his brain turn faster than Calum could stop them. He ran his touch along Calum's ragged wingtip, a sensation Calum was not ready for and startled away from it. 

Edwin blinked, "Oh, is it okay if I...?"

"What?"

There was that soft smile again, "Can I preen your feathers?"

Calum frowned, vaguely remembering Holly reacting in a similar fashion. "Oh, I didn't know that was a thing, uh, people did. Yes, I suppose."

Edwin scooted closer and ran his fingers through Calum's coverts, the spot Calum was hyperaware of getting patchy, and started realigning the barbs and picking out keratin sheaths around new feather that had started to grow back. His eyes on Calum's shame was almost too much to bear.

"I guess I'm having trouble understanding why you...like me."

Edwin faces was close enough when he whipped around to stare at Calum, eyes wide and shining.

"How could I not?" He squawked. "You are kind, considerate, and not to mention handsome. I know I had my resignations at first but you've stuck with me through all this and that's what I couldn't help but notice. You were the one tossed into a horrible situation against your will and you barely complained. You're...amazing, Calum."

Calum shrugged, looking away. "Thank you."

"You don't believe it."

Calum bit his lip and tasted metal. "I don't...think I'm beautiful. Not like this. Maybe I can believe it one day, but now I just feel, broken. I feel like I keep ruining it."

"Calum?"

He glanced at Edwin; he was holding out his hand to hold. Calum realized his own hands were buried in his curls, desperately trying to pull away the uncomfortable feelings flooding him. He grasped Edwin's hand, tight, like it would keep him steady.

Edwin leaned against Calum's shoulder. "I don't think that for a second. Never have and never will."

Calum started to cry, finally giving himself permission to hear those words. Edwin didn't say anything, he was just there, occasionally wiping away Calum's tears. Every touch was so raw, still dripping with blood from war-wrought wounds. He thought silence or lapse in conversation would have been painful, but Calum felt like a river whose fish were finally swimming back downstream.

"When I first came to live with Holly, I wanted to come with her to watch the Exiling," his voice shook a little, "she wouldn't let me. I had wanted to help, to do good things, but she knew I wasn't ready to go back near that world, not yet. It can be the same for us, you can want something and still not be ready for it."

Calum glanced up at him, shocked. "Oh, but what about you?"

"I'm okay either way."

Calum bit his lip, "I don't think I want to stop, but I would like it if we could take things slowly. I've never...liked anyone before."

His eyes shimmered. "Me neither. It's been really fun so far. What's okay with you for now?"

"Um... I like holding hands, and kissing." His face was burning but it was surprisingly liberating to say it aloud. "I like the preening. Compliments draw my attention to picking, unless they're not about my appearance."

"Okay, I can do that," he paused, "when what happened last night, happens again, because it probably will, would you be okay with holding my hand? What usually works is centering myself on physical sensations, to keep me in the present. Just hearing you talk though has been super helpful."

Calum nodded, "I can do that!"

There they were, breathless and beaming like two new blooms which a face-full of sunshine.

Edwin smiled. "I just realized something."

"Yeah?"

"I feel like I'm important without being important."

Calum blinked "...yeah?"

Edwin shook his head and his smile grew wider. "I used to think I was so much better than humans. All welves care about is being better than each other. We have all these stupid rules! Don't buy from the werekund, don't embarrass your family, don't do anything to risk your legacy. It's all...horribly self-centered." He made a face. "I used to think it was so embarrassing for a grand race like ours to be tethered to humans, that it was pathetic and...defiled our values to hand over magic for a job we should have been able to do ourselves when we obviously so great. Then I spent so long ashamed of being a...deadwing that I believed them when they said I didn't deserve to be called by name. Now, I can't help but think whatever we did, hundreds of years ago, we probably deserved it. It's so...cold and loveless." He laughed. It was singed with pain. "Welves are really just as horrible as everyone else, aren't they?"

Calum shrugged, "You're not."

"Thank you, cara, for telling me, I'm going to work on believing it. I'm going to stop caring about other's knowing my name." His forehead rested against Calum's. "I'll just be elated that you do."