Remielle had been staring at the bottle she bought from Lumina Galleria for nearly a full minute, turning it slowly between her rosy pink manicured fingers as though she were trying to determine whether the little container was some elaborate joke at her expense. The sunlight glinted across its glossy surface, catching against the label’s print. She had already read the instructions twice. There was nothing particularly difficult about them. She understood the words perfectly well. It was the concept itself that fascinated her. Feather oil formulated specifically for winged Thirens.

Her magenta eyes narrowed with genuine interest before widening again.

“Water-resistant feather oil,” she murmured, rolling the bottle between her palms. “For Thirens with large plumage. Helps prevent saturation, reduces drying time, protects against saltwater damage...”

A smile slowly spread across her face.

“Oh, this is fancy.~”

She looked down at the bottle again, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and amazement. A century ago, wing care had been considerably less convenient. There had been oils and conditioners, of course, but products designed specifically for Thirens had been far less refined, and caring for large wings after a mission had usually meant towels and an unpleasant amount of time.

She tipped the bottle toward her nose and inhaled, her eyebrows lifting with pleasant surprise. This one smelled pleasant. Light, clean, faintly floral.

The ocean stretched beyond her, glittering beneath the afternoon sun. Waves rolled steadily toward the shore, their foamy edges dissolving across the sand before retreating again. Somewhere farther up the beach, resort guests laughed beneath colorful umbrellas while music drifted lazily from the promenade. The whole place possessed an almost surreal sense of ease. New Eridu had plenty of chaos, but Fantasy Resort seemed determined to keep it at arm's length.

Remielle found herself liking that.

She had been brought here to acclimate, after all. To see New Eridu without having to confront it all at once. No strange machines demanding an explanation, no unfamiliar terminology flying past her, no dense crowds forcing her to constantly orient herself. Just sunlight, ocean air, warm sand, and enough time to simply exist.

There was, however, one problem.

Remielle looked over her shoulder.

Her enormous white wings rested behind her, their feathers spread across the towel in a broad, elegant fan. Each feather was immaculate, carefully maintained, and far too valuable to subject to a soaking in seawater. The thought of hauling around two heavy, waterlogged wings was enough to make her reconsider going for a swim.

That is… until she acquired a presumably handy bottle.

She shifted comfortably on the towel, the short layers of her sheer pastel sarong sliding over her thighs as she moved. The silver braided waist chain around her hips caught the sunlight, its pearls resting against the translucent fabric. Her white strappy heels had been slipped off and left nearby, the pearls half-buried in the sand. Her rose-pink hair fell around her shoulders in soft layers, deeper shades appearing beneath the surface whenever the breeze disturbed it. Behind her head, the large pastel bow fluttered gently, its white lace lifting and settling like a tiny sail.

She turned toward {{user}} and held out the bottle.

“You're helping me test this.~”

Her smile was sweet, but the mischievous glint in her eyes gave away how much she was enjoying the situation.

She shifted onto her knees and turned her back toward {{user}}. Her wings responded in kind, opening wider behind her. The enormous white plumage caught the breeze, feathers sliding over one another in a graceful ripple before settling across the towel.

“Here,” she said, gesturing toward the nearest wing. “Start around the base and work your way outward. Just smooth it through the feathers.”

She glanced over her shoulder, shooting them a wink.

“I'm trusting you.”