<p>"What do they look like?" Arthur asks, turning his head to give John a better view.</p><p>"They're big," John says. "Twice again as long as your arm, I think, and four or five times as wide. They're black, mostly, although the longer feathers are grey around the edges. At the... tips, I suppose, the part of the wing furthest from your body, there are six white feathers, spread out almost like fingers."</p><p>Arthur considers this for a moment. "Like a vulture?"</p><p>"I... suppose," John says, and Arthur realizes that John has likely never seen a vulture before, and wouldn't know the name if he had. "I can't quite see, but it seems like they're connected to your back at the shoulder. Can you feel anything there?"</p><p>Arthur slowly raises his hand, feeling the soft texture of the feathers and following the shape of the wing to where it connects to his back. He can't feel a hole in his shirt where the wing pokes through, a fact that makes him feel rather dizzy when he thinks about it. His shoulder doesn't feel any different. "I can't feel anything," he says. "You can, though? You can feel—" he brushes his hand over the wings again. The feathers really are very soft.</p><p>"Yes, I can feel it," John rumbles.</p><p>Arthur takes his hand away, making a thoughtful noise. "Does...?" He stops, almost feeling foolish for asking the question. "Do they look like they're able to fly?"</p><p>"Hm," Arthur feels feathers brush past him and he wobbles a bit, presumably as Jon stretches one of the wings out to study it. "It's possible. Do you want to try it?"</p>[[Yes! Let's fly.->Learn to Fly 1]]
[[Absolutely not.->Flightless Bird]]<p>"Well—what happens if you flap them?" Arthur asks.</p><p>"Like this?" John asks, and then does something that pushes Arthur forward, nearly shoving him down into the sand.</p><p>"Uh—not quite, I don't think," Arthur says, regaining his feet. "Try again?"</p><p>"It might help if you jump," John suggests.</p><p>Arthur nods. Yes, that makes sense. "Alright. On three?"</p><p>"On three."</p><p>"One, two, <em>three—</em>" Arthur launches himself upward as high as he can (which isn't very high, he doesn't think, not trying to jump from such an unstable surface), and at the same time he feels himself buffeted by a gust of air—John doing his best to get their wings to take them upwards.</p><p>Arthur stumbles as he lands a moment later, unprepared for the ground.</p><p>He lets out a breath. "Well. That didn't work."</p><p>"Maybe we need to get a running start," John suggests. "If we get more momentum, it might be enough to get us off the ground."</p><p>"Maybe," Arthur says.</p>[[Get a Running Start->Learn to Fly 2]]
[[Give Up->Flightless Bird]]<p>"Are there any especially tall dunes near here?" Arthur asks. "We'll be able to pick up much more momentum running downhill."</p><p>"Uh... yes," John says, after a moment of scanning the horizon. "The tallest one is to the east. If you go left... no, <em>left</em>, Arthur."</p><p>"Fine, fine," Arthur says, going right. For the first few steps, the ground slopes downward, but then it starts going sharply up again. "Let me know when we're near the top."</p><p>It feels like an eternity of struggling against gravity before John finally says, "Alright, Arthur. We're here."</p><p>"Great." Arthur takes a moment just to breathe, to recover from the exertion of the climb. "So now I guess we can just... go. When you think we've built up enough speed, count down for me to jump, and we can—We can see."</p><p>"Okay," John agrees.</p><p>Arthur takes a deep breath, preparing himself. "Ready?"</p><p>"Ready."</p><p>Arthur takes off. The dune is steep, and the sand still slips under his feet, but after just a few steps he's going too fast to stop. It's nerve-racking, racing like this with no sense of where his feet are or where he's going. But it's also thrilling.</p><p>"Okay, ready?" John says. "Three, two, one, <em>go</em>!"</p><p>Arthur leaps, and behind him he feels the strong, heavy movement of the wings. He feels weightless, and he laughs at the feeling of the wind around them, holding them aloft.</p><p>And then he falls.</p><p>The sand does precious little to cushion the fall. He hits the ground hard, and then he rolls, momentum carrying him one jolted bruise after another to the bottom of the dune. He groans, lifting a hand to cover his face from the cruel sun beating down on them. His skin burns in the sand, but he can't bring himself to get up.</p><p>"Arthur," John says, sounding... frantic. "<em>Are you alright?</em>"</p><p>"I'm fine," Arthur assures him. Nothing feels broken at least, which at this point he'll take as a win. He forces himself to sit up, wiping some of the sand off his shirt and face. "This was a bad idea."</p><p>"Yes," John says firmly.</p><p>Arthur should get up. They need to keep going, to get out of this desert.</p><p>Arthur doesn't move.</p><p>He feels... sad. Crushed, actually. For a moment there, he'd thought they'd had it. Sure, everything was terrible and they were stranded in the middle of an endless desert in the Dreamlands with barely a prayer of <em>ever </em>making it back home, but at least they could fly!</p><p>But no. Why would something <em>good </em>happen to them?</p><p>Suddenly, he feels a soft pressure at his shoulders. "What—?" Arthur starts to ask, turning his head, but feathers get in his nose and he sniffs, spitting them out. As he pulls his head back, he feels John's hand clutch tightly at his shirt, below his ribs, and he realizes what's happening. John has wrapped the wings around him, embracing him.</p><p>It's nice, like a hug, so Arthur doesn't comment on it. Instead, he brings his hand up to stroke carefully over the feathers.</p><p>After a moment, John says quietly, "I'm glad you're alright."</p><p>Arthur runs his hand over the soft feathers, and for the first time in a <em>very </em>long time, he almost feels safe.</p>
<p>[End of Route]</p><p>"We don't have time to deal with this, right now," Arthur says, feeling a bit like he's going to throw up. "We have to get out of here. I can hardly breathe through this heat, so it—We need to go."</p><p>"You don't think it's a good idea to study them, or—?"</p><p>Just thinking about the wings makes Arthur feel distinctly unwell. "No. I don't see what wings are going to change."</p><p>"... Alright," John says, and settles into silence as Arthur trudges through the sand. His feet sink into the dunes, making his progress annoying and slow. He's only taken twenty or thirty steps and his legs are already aching.</p><p>Something brushes against his arm and Arthur startles. "What was that?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I felt something. It—" Arthur lets out a breath as he parses the texture of what he felt. It was the wings. It was the <em>fucking</em> wings. He sighs, loudly enough that it is nearly a growl. "The wings are under your control, then?"</p><p>"It seems so," John replies.</p><p>"Of course they are," Arthur mutters, ignoring the sick feeling that is sinking deeper into his stomach.</p><p>Arthur keeps walking. It's hot and miserable, and the fucking feathers keep brushing against him, causing him to flinch every time he feels them. "John, can you <em>please </em>keep them away from me?"</p><p>"I'm <em>trying</em>, Arthur, they're—they're just as new to me as they are to you!"</p><p>"Fine." Another feathery touch, against his neck this time. "<em>John!</em>"</p><p>"I'm—" John growls in frustration and lapses into silence, and then all at once Arthur feels <em>very </em>off-balance.</p><p>He falls backwards, lands on his ass in the sand, and just to make sure Arthur knows that John did it on purpose, the bastard says, "Whoops."</p><p>Arthur sets his jaw, then tries to pull himself to his feet. He fails. "John, what are you doing? I can't—"</p><p>"I unfurled the wings so that they won't touch you," John says. "They're big, though, so even the slight breeze across this desert catches them like a sail.</p><p>"Fucking asshole," Arthur mutters.</p><p>"Oh, <em>I'm</em> the asshole? Really?" John growls. "I'm not the one <em>yelling </em>at you for not being entirely in control of your <em>brand new</em> appendages!"</p>[[Apologize->Apologize]]
[[Fuck Him->Fuck Him]]#Wings!
''A choose-your-own-adventure //Malevolent// fanfic''
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<p>The woods leave them behind in the desert. It's hellishly hot, and the sand shifts beneath Arthur's feet as he tries to walk. He already feels exhausted, but it seems unlikely that they'll find a place to rest anytime soon. Water would be heavenly, though.</p><p>It feels safer than the woods, at least. It will be harder for anything to sneak up on them in an open expanse of sand. (Harder for them to travel undetected as well, but Arthur is trying to be optimistic.)</p><p>Then, as if to prove him wrong, John shouts in his head:</p><p>"Arthur! Behind you!"</p><p>Arthur whirls around, bracing himself for some kind of attack. "What? What is it?"</p><p>John doesn't respond, so Arthur prompts him, "John?"</p><p>"There's nothing there. I must have—wait! Turn around. Slowly."</p><p>Arthur does so, stepping carefully, feeling his heart pounding. "Do you see anything?"</p><p>Once again, John is quiet.</p><p>"<em>John?</em>"</p><p>"Sorry, it—Arthur, could you turn your head to the side? Like you're looking over your shoulder?"</p><p>Feeling a growing sense of dread, Arthur does so.</p><p>"Ah," John says, sounding somewhat dazed.</p><p>"What?" Arthur says, and then, "John. What the fuck is going on?"</p><p>"Arthur, I think we have wings."</p><p>"What? What do you mean, you think—?"</p><p>"I mean, we have wings. We definitely—we have wings."</p><p>Arthur sputters for a moment, his brain struggling to accommodate this new information. "How the fuck do we have wings?"</p><p>"I don't know! It's the Dreamlands, Arthur, it—"</p><p>"You're only noticing them now?"</p><p>"They've been behind us!" John snaps. "What about you, shouldn't you be able to feel them? They're quite large, it seems like your balance must be somewhat different."</p><p>That gives Arthur a moment of pause, and he rocks on his heels, trying to notice any difference in weight distribution. He feels... a bit unsteady? Maybe? He's also standing on a sand dune, in an universe utterly different from his home, and he's just been informed that there are wings growing out of his back. Quite a few reasons to feel shaky.</p><p>Arthur takes a breath, trying to steady himself. Wings. That's... different.</p>[[Investigate the Wings->Investigate the Wings]]
[[Ignore the Wings->Ignore the Wings]]<p>"Actually, better not," Arthur continues. "I can think of far too many ways that could go wrong. Besides, wings or not, we aren't exactly built for flying."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"We're too heavy. That's why birds have hollow bones, because it makes them lighter."</p><p>"Birds have <em>hollow bones</em>?!"</p><p>He sounds so shocked by this news that Arthur can't help but laugh. "Yes, John." </p><p>"That's horrific," John mutters.</p><p>"Well, unless I've suffered a similar fate, it seems like your wings are... vestigial, probably. Useless to us, at least as far as I can see."</p><p>"Aesthetically, they're very beautiful. In—in my opinion, at least."</p><p>For some reason, the sentiment makes Arthur smile. "In any case, we should get a move on. This desert must end eventually." He begins walking again, wincing at the feeling of the sun beating down on him. "Christ, it's hot."</p><p>Then he blinks as the sunlight dims, his face no longer burning in its gaze. He stops, looking up. "John, what—?"</p><p>"I'm shielding you with one of the wings."</p><p>"Huh," Arthur says, basking for a moment in the feeling. Walking in the shade is a <em>significant </em>improvement over walking in the blaring sun. "Not so completely useless after all."</p>
<p>[End of Route]</p><p>"I didn't ask for any of this!" Arthur snaps. "I didn't ask for wings, I didn't ask to be transported to the Dreamlands, I didn't ask for you to be in my fucking head. That was all you! So the <em>least</em> you can do is not constantly remind me with every step that you're taking over my body."</p><p>"Arthur—"</p><p>"Shut up!" Arthur pulls himself up, planting his feet to keep the weight of the wings from pulling him back down. "We need to get out of this desert. Come on."</p><p>John doesn't say anything, but he once again folds the wings up, and Arthur feels his balance return.</p><p>"<em>Thank you</em>."</p>
<p>[End of Route]</p><p>Arthur lets out a long breath, rubbing his face. John is right. He's not being fair. "I'm sorry," he says, resting his forehead on his knees. The anger is gone now, and he just feels... drained. And he still feels slightly sick. "This is just... a lot to process. It feels like, like my body increasingly doesn't belong to me. These—<em>wings</em>, fucking hell—it—it's just salt in the wound."</p><p>"If it's any consolation," John rumbles, softening, "it seems likely that the wings will disappear once we leave the Dreamlands. They're an aspect of this place, a manifestation of... me, I suppose. They can't exist in the real world."</p><p>"But they exist now," Arthur says, pulling himself to his feet. He feels the feathers brush against him again as John folds the wings behind them. "So I suppose we'll have to get used to them."</p>[[Investigate the Wings->Investigate the Wings]]