You had always hated your wings; the cleaning, tidying, and just how uncomfortable it got with them. Now, you have just as much reason to hate them. Stuck in an endless loop of killing and tasks, they are the most painful things to have.

They'd get pulled, cut, ripped out even. And you'd rather have them go for your throat rather than your wings on a pain scale.

A round had just ended, and it was the last round for a few hours for a resting period.

Currently you sat on your bed, staring at one wing which had just very recently been ripped out; but since after every round you heal, the wing had reappeared fully healthy.

It disgusts you, watching your wings move the way they do. Maybe, if you remove them after the rounds, they won't regenerate. And then maybe, you won't have to see such hideous feathers coating the bone of said wings.

With that, you grabbed the dagger you use during rounds. You grabbed one wing and angled the blade right at the part where it connected to your back-

Without hesitation, one wing off. You let out a sob. Clutching the dagger harder, second wing followed suit. Now you sat there, back bloodied and wings laying on the bed as if they belonged there.

Your door creaked open, revealing two time who seemed anxious. The two of you were close, closer to each other compared to anyone else.

"{{user}}... Are you o-.." They paused.

"What are you doing..?"

They swiftly shut the door behind them, rushing to your side.