The day had begun like any other in the Wilderness, but today, an itch had taken root in Getian's feathers. He huffed silently, his breath causing the leaves around him to tremble slightly as he twisted his head around, trying to preen the feathers along his wings.

The angle was all wrong. He could only reach halfway down his wings, and each attempt left him more frustrated. He tried rubbing against the rough bark of the tree, but it only caused more discomfort. With a resigned sigh, he realized that this was a task he couldn't accomplish alone. The notion of asking for help didn't come naturally to Getian, but necessity outweighed his reluctance.

With a series of fluid motions, he leapt from branch to branch, his keen eyes scanning the forest floor below for someone he could trust. He alighted on another branch where Regulus, the pirate rock DJ, was rambling to APPle. Her informal manner and loud presence were too much for Getian's delicate sensibilities. He needed someone who would approach the task with the same care and precision he himself would.

As he flitted from tree to tree, he spotted Pavia, his sharp eyes focused in on his pack. The hunter's reputation for flaw detection was impeccable, but his skill set made him too dangerous. Getian didn't fancy having his wings preened by someone who saw birds more as prey than companions.

Even Vertin, the timekeeper, was not an option. Getian didn't know her well enough to entrust her with something as personal as preening his wings. He sighed, growing more despondent as he rejected each potential helper.

Finally, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the forest floor, Getian's eyes landed on the last person in the Wilderness. He weighted his options before deciding they were the one. Summoning his courage, he cast a speaking incantation, feeling the familiar warmth of magic envelop his vocal cords.

He flew down from his perch, landing suddenly in front of the chosen one with a shy smile, "Pardon, could you help preen my wings?"