He pulled up the tall stool, taking a seat and pouring a small amount of the liquid into his hand. He rubbed them together for a moment, before gently placing them on the damaged area. He whistled a quiet time as he worked. Her wing would feel soothed in the spot he placed it, and a comfortable warmth.
She was quiet, surprised to discover that the experience wasn't unpleasant. The light swirled through the wings where he touched them, creating mesmerizing patterns. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she listened to the tune before she paused, stiffening. "Is it... is it supposed to burn like that?" she asked, her voice tremulous.
"Yeah," she said with a frown, shifting uncomfortably. Panic seemed to invade her voice. "It's like... spreading up the wing. Ow. Ow. Is it supposed to do that?"
"Ah.. No. No it's not." He seemed a little panicked himself, looking incredibly worried. "Just- Just calm down and I'll figure it out, okay?"
The confirmation of her fears seemed to panic her more. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide. "Oh, sweet Lyri. I'm going to lose my wings. I'm going to lose my wings, aren't I? You're going to amputate them or something."
"I'm not letting that happen," he said hurriedly, his brows furrowing as he opened cabinets before looking down at his palms with a rushed sigh. He approached her, opening his hands. "Y-you're not pranking me, right?"
She met his gaze, her golden eyes wide, and for a moment there was complete silence before a small smile crossed her face and she burst into bright, bell-like laughter, flapping her healed wing as if to check it. "I got you so good!"
She laughed deeply, floating in midair as she tried to catch her breath. "Oh, that's so funny," she said amidst laughter. "Oh..." She noticed his position, but it only seemed to make her more pleased. She flew over to him, lying horizontally in midair just above him as she ruffled his hair playfully. "Don't worry, Sam," she said cheerfully, resting her head on her hand. "It actually felt really nice."
She cocked her head sympathetically, lowering herself to inspect his face. "Oh, please say I didn't give you a heart attack," she murmured, her eyes keen as she studied him. "That would not be good. It felt really nice, if that's any consolation. Awkward, you know, considering, but nice."
"I thought I hurt you," he murmured. "I would have been kicked out of the school, or something. You.. Are mean."
"Right. I appreciate that your primary concern is your loss of schooling that my loss of mobility," she said sarcastically, landing on her feet and offering him a hand. "Besides, you're the one who wanted to massage my wings with a complete understanding of what that implies. Let's call it even."
She blinked, her expression one of surprise as she studied him. "Well, pixies really only allow other people to touch their wings if they're, like... married," she said, seeming confused. "I mean, they're so sensitive and delicate, it's like... the ultimate sign of trust." She frowned, tilting her head. "Did you really not know that?"
She looked at him blankly, seeming utterly perplexed. "But... you're studying pixies, aren't you? I mean, wings are like, a huge part of our culture." She sighed, shrugging slightly as she sat on a nearby table, swinging her legs. "If it makes you feel any better, you were doing it for scientific reasons. That definitely changes things." She was quiet for a moment before a sour look crossed her face. "And it's not like you came out of nowhere and just yanked on them."
“Well,” she said slowly, glancing at her wings and flapping them thoughtfully. She accidentally knocked over a cup, but luckily it was empty, and she reset it, looking embarrassed. “Think of it like a massage. It’s not something that strangers do for each other very often, but, you know, massage therapists exist. You’re just a wing therapist now.”
