to become human

"Yay! Yay! Yay!"

Rav is bouncing up and down as we walk to the pagoda. The palatial tower has a hollow center, allowing anyone in its heart to gaze straight up at the sky.

On the first floor is also a quiet den, with a roaring ever-flame fireplace and cozy, dark wood accents. That's where I lead Rav.

"Wing day! It's wing day! Aw, yeah!"

He's a child. More immature than me, honestly. And that's saying something, given this man is two years my senior. A whole ass adult, as my friend Rosaria would've said.

"Some GROUND RULES!" I bark as we walk into the den. "Don't make it weird. Don't touch them, don't ask to touch them, don't even wonder what it would be like to touch them!"

Rav rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't take the fun out of it." He slinks off to the corner of the den and pours himself a glass of pungent bourbon, two or three shots' worth, before gulping it down in one swig. "Ah. Life."

He vaults over the side of one of the cushy leather couches, landing on it cross-legged as he stretches his arms out over the tops of the cushions, stretching out his back. "Alright, boss. How's this work? They just gunna pop out? You gotta shake 'em lose?" He narrows his eyes at me. "Do you have to SUMMON THEM!?"

Rav makes a stupid pose, imitating what he imagines a summoning would look like. As he's emoting on the couch, I stride to the center of the den.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why are you stripping, dude!?"

I look at him and blush. Among the Nephilim, I never felt self-conscious about my body. With the 'earthlings', however, that couldn't be further from the truth...

"Just my shirt," I murmur, throwing my tank top aside. I turn away from him to show him my back, tilting my head slightly so I can see him. "Anyway, you said you weren't going to make it weird!"

He rolls his eyes and lifts up his tail, flipping it...flippantly. "Just show me the goods. Why are you so sensitive about it anyway? Do they hurt?"

"I can explain," I say. "Let me show you. See these lines on my back?"

Rav leans forward, squinting dramatically. "Yeah. Kinda. I've seen these before on you, kid. That's where they come out?"

"Yeah."

I trace the line with my fingers down my back. It's a crimson-colored marking that starts just below my neck and goes down to the bottom of my shoulder blade. 

"And when I touch both sides like this..."

I cross my arms over my chest, hands reaching over my shoulders as I press down the top of the marks on either side of my back. As I do, I feel my wings activate. They begin to manifest, shimmering into existence like liquid glass, growing from my back and stretching out wide. It takes about a minute for them to fully bloom; probably because it has been a long time since I've last done this.

"Good god, you're a monster. In a cool way. Y'know. Just ignore that. Keep doing your thing."

My wings finish outstretching. As I've alluded to, they look to be made of glass. Shiny, translucent, and delicate. Each section of my wings is a leaf-shaped petal of sparkling maroon, connected with thin exterior veins of light. At the height of my wings are two triangular petals, like horns, sticking out the top of my back. I have to be careful how I turn my head to avoid knocking against them.

"I guess there's no way to ask this without being WEIRD about it, Augs, but do you mind if I get just a teeeeeeny bit closer?"

"That's fine," I say, but I am at least a little nervous. My wings are delicate and fragile. With less force than it'd take to crack an egg, any one of the petals of my wings could be shattered. And if that happens...

"Just please don't touch them, seriously. They're more sensitive than they look."

"They certainly look sensitive," Rav says, putting his face right up to one. "Like if I breathe too heavily, I'll -"

"Stop that," I snap. He backs off a few inches in admonishment. 

My wings are a part of me, but they also feel...exposed. Like I'm laying my soul bare. It's not just embarrassment. It's fear—fear of judgment, or worse, of breaking something I can't fix.

"Each of those 'petals' is the embodiment of something special," I say quietly. "What makes us Nephilim. If I lost these fragments, I'd lose everything. Some Nephilim can survive becoming human. Others...don't."

"Truly?" Rav seems genuinely curious, now. His joking demeanor sets aside for a more serious tone. "To lose your wings is to become human. Fascinating! So...do you know which parts are which?"

"Vaguely. Not all of them."

"What's this part?" He points at the very tip of my wing. The longest petal.

I can't help but turn beet-red. Why'd he have to ask about that part of all things...

"Err..." I say, fumbling over my thoughts. "Well, when two Nephilim really like each other, they pluck one of those off of each other and put them together, and...well...that's how babies are made."

"WHAT!"

"See, this is why I was against doing this in the first place!" I wail. 

"Y'all make babies by plucking wings? That's wild. Did your momma tell you that to avoid 'the talk'?"

"I know what intercourse is," I say flatly. "And no, Nephilim don't have intercourse."

"Don't or can't?" he says, peeking at the front of my pants. 

"You're a pervert."

"I'm just CURIOUS! This is like, next-level biology to me, dude. Anyway, what do these ones do, then?" He points at the sharp triangular horns atop either side of my wings.

"I...I'm embarrassed to say, now," I object, turning my nose up away from him. "You made me self-conscious."

"Aww man, don't be like that," Rav pouts. "Look. I'm sorry for making you embarrassed. Go on. Do your thing. Shine like a butterfly, talk like a moth. Or whatever."

I take a deep breath. No sense hiding it, I suppose. I know Rav would never use this knowledge maliciously. Not against me, or any Nephilim.

"Those 'horns' seal our...um..."

"Eh?"

"Look, if you really gotta know, I'm flat as a board down there," I blush. "But if those horns were ever broken, I assume I would look more...human? Physiologically...man-like?"

Rav covers his mouth like he's about to gasp. Or laugh.

"Well how 'bout that, huh...surprised you Nephies even bother wearing clothing."

"Shut it."

"And these other petals?" Rav immediately shifts the course of the conversation, doing a generic swirl around the rest of my wing segments."

"Those are the ones I don't know. I think this one is hunger," I say, pointing to one of the petals at the bottom right. "See, the thing is, we Nephilim don't go flaunting our wings around, and we don't go breaking pieces of them off to test what they do. If anyone knows what each piece of the wings correlates to, that knowledge never made its way to me."

"I see, I see. So your people only really know about the ones related to reproduction. I suppose that makes sense. Gotta keep makin' babies, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now. Still. That's...unexpected. Really unexpected."

"Well, maybe now you have a greater appreciation for why I'm hesitant. How would you like it if someone asked you to pull your pants down just 'cause they were curious'?"

Rav ponders for a moment. "I wouldn't mind. But at least I have something down there for people to see. Hah."

"I could blow this whole place to smithereens, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." I allow my wings to recede back into my body, and then I grab my shirt to pull back over my head. "Hope you had your fun."

"Do you all have red wings like that?"

I give him the side-eye. "They're maroon. And no. Kieran's are green, for example. And his 'petals' have a slight wave to them. Much prettier than my wings."

"Oooh!"

I laugh. "Kieran will never let you see his wings, I promise. Don't even think about it, man."

"But YOU'VE seen them! And I'm his adoring, lovable teacher."

"Kieran and I...we have a special relationship. I mean, put it this way. Rylin has never seen mine, nor I hers."

"Ah yeah, your little girlfriend on the moon. I guess Nephilim kids are less sprightly than Ferin ones. A few girls back in the village have 'seen my wings', if you catch my drift."

"You're disgusting."

"Whaaaat, come on, Augs! That was funny!"

"You owe me some training dummies, oh great Sage of the Clouds."

Rav bites his lip. "I suppose I could go make some more stuff for you to blow up on my front lawn, yes." 

He hops back over the couch, back to his drink station, and is quick to pour himself another full glass. "Gotta recharge, though. Starting to sober up! Hey, you want a drink? You're eighteen now. That's legal by Ferin standards!"

"Pass. I'll be outside practicing my sword skills. Don't forget those dummies!"

And so I patter off, leaving my demented cat boy teacher to his own devices. Rav's jokes grated on me, but his curiosity felt...honest. He'd never hurt me or my wings, not on purpose. And so, that's why I let him see them. Trust is fragile, like my wings, but maybe that's why it matters.