Chapter Text
A Truly Perfect Stranger.
Chapter 1 Stressful Awakening
Everything aches, it feels as if you’ve been beaten by every street gang known to man. Slothfully you open your eyes, only to see a much wider view than you were used to. A gilded ceiling made of an elegant looking oak had an odd insignia carved into it,
that is one intense looking ceiling.
You blink only to feel two extra eyelids quickly shut, it felt like your forehead had its own set of eyes. Again you blink, holy shit you had four eyes. You look to your left with your newly acquired vision, velvet and purple furniture each carved and etched in beautiful detail. Where the hell were you? You rub your face with some oddly fluffy hands, a realization dawns itself as you take them away from your stressed temples.
Black, knife like fingers meet your gaze, your arms are feathered, all of you is feathered. You start to feel an immense panic rise in your chest. You see a door in the corner of the room. Mirror you need a mirror! Throwing off the admittedly comfy velvet sheets, You dash for the-
Your newly acquired talons caused a loss of balance as soon as you stood up causing your knife like digits to slip out from under you You catch your self with the side of the bed, a claw tearing part of the expensive sheets as you fall. Mind is in full panic mode as you stumble to the door like a fawn on ice, your talons scraping the perfectly made wooden floor. The noisy scratching of blade on wood jostled a certain sleeping bird.
“Stolas, what the fuck are you doing?” A feminine voice sleepily asked in irritation. Your claws are on the door knob an insane smile of joy is plastered on your weird beak mouth, You made it!
You stare at the white bird who was currently angrily squinting at you with tired red eyes, that’s kinda terrifying. Her pure white coat of feathers and...was that hair? Well something like hair ran down her back. She glares at you harder as you stare stupidly back at her as your desperately trying not to fall to the floor, the constant scraping of your talons being the only noise in the otherwise silent room.
”M-mirror?” You manage to squeak out with an unfamiliar voice
She looked at you briefly somehow able to express extreme resentment without moving a single muscle in her face.
Falling back on the pillows of the bed seems to be her final answer to your brilliant response.
Back to the task at hand you use the knob as leverage, slowly you rise to two weird bent bird feet, and turn the knob.
As expected the bathroom was beautiful, preparing yourself you elegantly-
Holy shit how is tile harder to walk on than wood?
Your scamper continues as you attempt to reach the sink knob, you manage to reach it.
A talon fell from under you, A loud crack is heard as you smash you head against the side of the sink. Pain, everything is pain.
Slowly you rise with shaky arms and a bloody beak. Stella stares at you wide eyed, you give a meek thumbs up.
Her head follows you as the prince slowly begins to rise off the cold tiled floor.
Finally you see yourself in the mirror, red eyes, white beaked face, and grey feathers, holy shit you needed to lift weights, your entire body is like that of a stick figure with how thin it is.
And of course the blood falling from the nostril holes of the beak.
“It’s 2am and you wake your wife with a circus act?” Stella comments as you literally crawl your way back to bed in order to avoid shenanigans.
Hoisting yourself up onto the bed your legs numbly following as your dragged them with you onto the king sized mattress.
With no idea what is happening or how it is happening going back to bed seems to be the best option, if you ignore your problems maybe they will go away. You grab some tissues from a nearby ebony nightstand. The tissues are red, which is convenient for you. The white bird stares at you, before sighing.
“You really are going to make me heal you, at 2am?” Stella asked venom clear in her voice. “Uh, yes?” You question back in confusion as you hold the tissue to your newly found beak.
The sheer brilliance of your words must have won over your apparent wife, who, without a hint of emotion, snaps her claws. The sound reverberated through out the bedroom.
You blinked then took the tissue away from your face, the bleeding stopped. Holy shit your weird bird wife was magic! Or more likely this was a weird fever dream, since you were an owl maybe this was a spirit animal type dream like the Indians had or something.
“Now go the fuck to sleep Stolas.” And with that final dismissal of your very being the magic avian turned to her side facing away from you.
Well shit you should thank her you guess, and she was your wife, this is still probably just some weird dream since magic and shit happened.
Following you own weird dream logic you slowly scoot your way closer to her, and then slowly wrap your weird lanky stick like arms around her small torso.
“Thanks, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You say trying to sound sincere to your weird spirit bird
“So you only care about your wife when she does something for you, hm? Fucking typical.”
Your apparent partner sneers in a sleep deprived anger.
You don’t say anything, deciding to just continue being the big spoon. Her feathers made her a soft pillow as you held her.
“Stolas?” Your wife’s confused voice breaks the awkward silence. Uh, shit maybe you did something weird.
“I’m sorry.” You say apologetically unwrapping yourself from her. Stella’s body freezes up. Seemingly in shock by your words. Her red eyes wide as she stares blankly away from you.
“Do you mean that?” Stella asks her voice unreadable. Damn she really doesn’t like being cuddled you guess.
“Yeah, of course I do.” A reassuring smile crosses your beak, Stella turns to face you from her spot on the bed.
A frown which seemed to be a common trait for her was still present. “Are you sorry for ruining our family name? Or fucking that imp. How about being sorry for ignoring your wife every single day?”
There is enough venom in her voice to kill an elephant, as such you answer in the only way you can think.
“Yeah, pretty much.” You answer with a smile to the Indian spirit.
You feel a hand slap itself across your face, dang guess you said something weird.
“Fucking, unbelievable this isn’t something you can just apologize for! You need to prove it you pathetic lonely-“ The bird Began to rant
“Well, how do you want me to prove I care, if things are this bad tell me how to fix it and I’ll try my best.”
You answer with a sore cheek, this must be the spirits telling you to pull your life together after you drank too much last night or something.
Stella stops her rant and stares at you, again, you stare back figuring that this must be a bird thing.
“Do you wanna cuddle and discuss this over pancakes?” You ask
Stella opens her beak then shuts it, before she reluctantly wraps her arms around your stick like body.
“Your ridiculous, it’s too early for this.” Stella reluctantly sighed as you slowly rubbed her back.
Stella was pretty sure this was a dream, her husband would never admit to a fault let alone touch her with romantic intent, but she might as well enjoy this while it lasts.