Exton

The hem of the dress flutters around Weebit's feet as she paces the top of the table. Tork has taken himself to the headboard of the bed, far enough away as to not be in her line of fire if she throws something. She spins on her heel, skirt flaring and fans her wings to catch her balance. The muscles in her back twitch and pain crosses her face at the movements. Her chest heaves with each pant, drawing the halter of her dress tight over her small breasts. Twillon frowns, knowing she will not accept any comfort at this time. Nyr looks at Twillon, concern in his eyes.

"Weebit, I'm sorry. Tychus left for his own lands years ago. Inari may know where he is, but I don't. As for the healers, let them have time to figure this out." Nyr stops himself from touching a wing. "What did they do in there?"

She raises her face, anger and pain warring in the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. "They were no better than the so called Doctor that experimented on my Troop. They scraped the scars, stuck pins the veins of my wings, took samples of my blood. One suggested taking my wings, cutting them OFF!"

Her voice breaks and she sinks to the table top, head on her arms. Her sobs are silent, betrayed by the shake of her body. As Nyr reaches out, Twillon stops his hand. He nods towards Tork, who has risen into a crouch. The dragon's eyes are fixed on Nyr's hand.

"He does not trust you, old friend. He does not know you. He is true to Weebit and will take on any who seek to harm her. That is why we did not bring him to the Healers with us. There would have been... The Queen would not have been happy."

Nyr nods, slowly sitting back. Twillon rests his chin on his arm as he leans on the table. "Weebit... Honey Girl..." She raises her head and her strokes the tumble of her pale hair with a finger tip. "The Demifae doctor had a temper, didn't he? He didn't like when the other doctor suggested that." She nods and wipes her face on a fold of her skirt. "They won't cut your wings off. We will find another way."

Weebit wraps her arms around his finger and hugs. Twillon gently cups his palm around Weebit, picking her up.He settles back in his chair as Weebit lays down on his chest, bare feet slipped through the lacings of his shirt.

"My siúlóir aisling..."

Nyr cocks his head, a frown between his eyes. Twill watches thoughts flick through his friends eyes. After a moment Nyr shakes his head.

"That is Irish Faeling. I haven't heard that since Queen Malva took her people to watch the borders of the Unformed Plain."

Weebit nods against Twillon's chest."... means Dream Walker."

Nyr raises a brow. "They disappeared decades ago. No sign of them was ever found, even by other demifae. Rah'sha, where did you find her?"

Weebit shifts, settling herself to sit on the lower laces of Twill's vest. "I am RIGHT here."

Nyr bows his head. "I apologize My Lady."

She crosses her arms across her chest, lips pressed tight in anger.

"The Unformed plane, Nyr. They were being used for experiments. Weebit is the last of her troop. All the others... he kept what was left of them in specimen jars. We gave them to a pyre at Weebit's request."

"He took my mother's wings. Cut them off and pasted them in a book." her eyes flash and she looks up at Twillon. "No one is taking MY wings. even if they will never be healed!"

"No, My Lady. I will not allow that. My oath as Taibreamh Sca'th."