Skulduggery paused as the ripple of uncertainty shook through Gabriel's wings. He didn't need to be a mind or soul-reader to know what that ripple meant, what Gabe was worried about, and he spared the downy feathers one last glance. There was no blood, no red staining the brilliant white, and yet it looked more devastating than it would have if blood covered them. It was more... raw, and open. The wounds were less painfully obvious. Identifying the extent of the definite damage was harder.
It was almost easy, after that, to work on where Skulduggery could at least make some small difference. The feathers were longer than he thought, but he couldn't discount the convenience of that. Running the oil-covered cloth over anything smaller than these feathers would definitely have pained Gabe more than it should have to.
Working carefully over where the Faceless One had left the deep gashes, Skulduggery freed his mind - teetering on the edge of full meditation - and basked in the temporary silence. He didn't live his life very safely, but it wasn't a bad thing to enjoy those safe periods whenever they came along. It was strangely satisfying, too, to immediately see the benefit of each individually straightened feather; it immediately glowed brighter, shone more vividly with the same colorful light that illuminated the angel's surroundings. It reminded Skulduggery of when he first saw Gabe's true form, just after crashing down in the other dimension - how dazzling and sparkling the light was, before the hitchhiking dark god dimmed it so far.
Skulduggery's hands froze when the entire wing quivered, rather than just the surrounding feathers, along with Gabe biting back a startled cry. 'I'm sorry,' Skulduggery thought immediately, waiting until the quiver passed completely before putting his hand against the feathers again. 'This won't be comfortable. Hang on.'
His fingers slid down the vane of the offending feather and into the shaft, which he could already feel wasn't resting as deeply as it should be. Torn out, then. Damn it. With an invisible grimace and a mental steeling, Skulduggery gently took the shaft and tried to squirm it free.
It took a good minute, and Skulduggery only managed it in the end because he blocked out any reaction Gabe might have. He tried not to think about what the damage to the underlying skin might be; Skulduggery wouldn't be able to tell, at least without displacing the entire section of feathers, and there wasn't anything he could have done anyway. The protruding shaft of the feather, sharp and pointed, told him all he needed to know. 'It's out.'
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It was almost easy, after that, to work on where Skulduggery could at least make some small difference. The feathers were longer than he thought, but he couldn't discount the convenience of that. Running the oil-covered cloth over anything smaller than these feathers would definitely have pained Gabe more than it should have to.
Working carefully over where the Faceless One had left the deep gashes, Skulduggery freed his mind - teetering on the edge of full meditation - and basked in the temporary silence. He didn't live his life very safely, but it wasn't a bad thing to enjoy those safe periods whenever they came along. It was strangely satisfying, too, to immediately see the benefit of each individually straightened feather; it immediately glowed brighter, shone more vividly with the same colorful light that illuminated the angel's surroundings. It reminded Skulduggery of when he first saw Gabe's true form, just after crashing down in the other dimension - how dazzling and sparkling the light was, before the hitchhiking dark god dimmed it so far.
Skulduggery's hands froze when the entire wing quivered, rather than just the surrounding feathers, along with Gabe biting back a startled cry. 'I'm sorry,' Skulduggery thought immediately, waiting until the quiver passed completely before putting his hand against the feathers again. 'This won't be comfortable. Hang on.'
His fingers slid down the vane of the offending feather and into the shaft, which he could already feel wasn't resting as deeply as it should be. Torn out, then. Damn it. With an invisible grimace and a mental steeling, Skulduggery gently took the shaft and tried to squirm it free.
It took a good minute, and Skulduggery only managed it in the end because he blocked out any reaction Gabe might have. He tried not to think about what the damage to the underlying skin might be; Skulduggery wouldn't be able to tell, at least without displacing the entire section of feathers, and there wasn't anything he could have done anyway. The protruding shaft of the feather, sharp and pointed, told him all he needed to know. 'It's out.'