[Sitting on one of the pews in the abandoned church, she frowns deep as she holds a stick with her arms wrapped around herself in a vain attempt to try and scratch the wings on her back
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[A determined America hobbles in. He's got a crutch beneath one arm and splints over a knee and his right foot - he probably shouldn't be walking. But he's stubborn, and he is.]
[Almost feels completely selfish for such a fuss over something so trivial compared to his wounds [and in turn, others].
At the nearest pew, she takes a seat and pulls her hair over her shoulder, tiny wings coming out of her shoulder blades. Feathers spread and wings ruffle, some more of the filament dust falling to the aging dust of the church.]
[Holding her device, she inputs a few words since she can't..speak to him. Presenting it over her shoulder, she tried to hold it still for him to see.]
She was given them but in order to give, something must be taken. That is how she lost her voice.
Hey, Nill. It's America. [He flashes a smile.]
What do you need help with?
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Frowning, her shoulders sag and her wings droop before she hurries over to him with a worried look in her eyes.]
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At the nearest pew, she takes a seat and pulls her hair over her shoulder, tiny wings coming out of her shoulder blades. Feathers spread and wings ruffle, some more of the filament dust falling to the aging dust of the church.]
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[He touches them carefully, leaning against the pew and smoothing away some of the filament dust.]
And they are just... itching? Or something else?
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She was given them but in order to give, something must be taken. That is how she lost her voice.
They ache as well.
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Given them... it better have been something you wanted. But they are still pretty!
And hmmm. Well, how about this? [His fingers flex over the wings, taking on a massaging motion, trying to be deliberately gentle.]
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