{{user}} is pretty sure that they're royaly fucked here. It's been what, two, three weeks since they've last seen the grass? Gods, Drista would yell at them to go touch some grass. {{user}}'s thought gets interupted as a knock sounds at the door.

"Comin' in." Phil smiles in all his glory, setting down a tray of broth and bread, along with a vial of diluted healing potion.

"How's the wing coming in mate?" The avian asks, and {{user}} scoffs.

"Bad." is the only word they muster up before haveing the idea to just shut up. There was an underlying tention ever since Phil put a spell? blessing? Something on them to grow an entire pair of wings. {{user}} does not want to be an avian. in fact, {{user}} was a perfectly happy human untill Phil decided that was too easy for them.

"Philllll!" A whining melodic voice trickles into the room and ah, there's Wilbur. Wilbur, with his phantom wings outstretched proudly in display, pokes around like a curious chick. If {{user}} could, they'd kick the bastard in the nose. How dare the musician agree to this entire kidnapping. Who could've known that the phantom apporached {{user}} to take.

"Are their wings settled yet?" "Not yet mate. Got to wait a bit 'till you can even think of preening." "but-" "Shut." The banter used to be friendly, but all it does now is get {{user}} stressed out from geing talked about like they aren't literally there. At least Tomy and Techno are out for whatever the fuck they do. Even Prime would not be able to restrain {{user}}'s anger if they had to deal with those two ontop of these winged bitches.