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The Astral Express’ current expedition was taking place on a small, isolated planet that hadn’t seen any astral visitors in years. The first people they met were confused but welcoming, bringing them to the nearest town, where Stelle was presently surprised to experience nothing but hospitality.
The most interesting thing about the people, though, was that some of them had wings. Not behind their ears like Halovians, but on their backs; fully feathered wings that made the most satisfying fwoom sounds whenever they took to the air. It tickled Stelle’s ears in just the right way.
Currently, she was eating a cookie that had been handed to her by a cute little winged girl. Stelle watched the other locals curiously, her mind beginning to wander in typical Stelle fashion.
March had run off to who-knows-where, probably to take pictures of the pretty landmarks that the locals had bragged about earlier. Dan Heng had stayed back on the Express with Himeko. Stelle was standing behind Welt as he spoke with a man who had the biggest wings she had ever seen. She reckoned he was the leader; she probably should’ve paid more attention to the conversation.
Oh, and Sunday was here, too. He was next to Stelle, dutifully listening to Welt and the bigwings.
Stelle finished off her cookie, wiping her gloves on her jacket (no one was looking at her, so she wouldn’t be scolded for having no manners). With nothing else unimportant and trivial to preoccupy her, she turned to Sunday. More specifically, his wings.
The locals had pale feathers, sometimes pastel colors, though it all looked gray when compared to Sunday’s. Stelle stared at him, then looked back at the bigwings.
Long, shiny, colorful feathers, splayed out for all to see. Stelle could appreciate the beauty in it. He must’ve put a lot of effort into maintaining them, because they looked irresistibly fluffy.
She turned to Sunday’s wings again. The size paled in comparison, but the pure white color was nice, and somehow looked just as soft.
…
It was calling to her. There was no way she could fight the pull…
Stelle slowly reached out to touch his wings.
His reaction time was impressive, considering how he wasn’t even looking at her two seconds ago. As soon as she got close, he lightly smacked her hand. Stelle immediately drew back.
“Ow!” She yelped (even though it didn’t even hurt). “What the heck?!”
“Don’t do that.”
Stelle stared him dead in the eye.
Smack!
“Owww!”
“What did I just say?” Sunday sighed, unimpressed.
Welt and the bigwings turned to them, one vexed and the other amused.
“Why not?!”
“Your hands are filthy.”
“No, they aren’t! Just lemme give ‘em one little touch! Pleeeeaaaaase?”
“No.”
”…”
At this point it was less about the intrusive thoughts and more about her own gremlin-like spite. Stelle made another quick grab for his wings. Sunday was quicker.
SMACK!
By this time, everyone was looking at them, whispering and giggling. Even the bigwings was chuckling. Welt massaged his temples, exasperated.
“MR. YANG!” howled Stelle. “SUNDAY’S HITTING ME!!”
“Seven paces, both of you.”
Stelle and Sunday matched gazes. When neither of them budged, Stelle crossed her arms and turned up her nose.
“You first!”
Sunday glanced at Welt, then reluctantly stepped back seven times. Welt raised an eyebrow at Stelle.
She let out a smug hmph! and smirked. “That’s seven paces.”
Sunday glowered at her. She stuck out her tongue.
“Stelle, seven paces,” said Welt, completely done.
Stelle pouted and inched back what could barely be called a step, dragging her feet on the ground seven times.
Deciding that it wasn’t worth it, Welt returned to his conversation. “Sorry about them. Stelle can be a little immature.”
(Stelle huffed, scandalized.)
“No worries. It’s nice to see that you travelers are all so close with each other.” The bigwings replied. “Miss Stelle, would you like to touch my wings?”
Her pouting face lit up immediately. “Really??”
Sunday gave her a withering look. “Really?”
“It isn’t a big deal. You are all welcome guests here. Consider it a sign of our friendship.”
“Bet.”
Like a greedy child who just got ahold of the brownie tin, Stelle sprinted forward and- with due care- ran her fingers along those big, glossy feathers. She was grinning so widely that it might as well have split her face.
Sunday turned to Welt. “Do I have your permission to leave? There is a landmark I wanted to visit.”
“Yes, Sunday, you can go.” He sighed.
March passed him by as he was leaving, happy with all of the pictures she had taken. She took in Sunday’s walking speed, Welt’s tired expression, Stelle’s childish glee, and the locals’ endless laughter.
“Uh…” March blinked owlishly.
“Eeeee! They’re so soft!” squealed Stelle.