Poetry

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"The Thing With Wings" by cherishtwilight
"Can we consider him a member of the undead?” Cornelius Blunt glared at the white Zafara with wings on its back, wearing a brown coat, sitting out on the Sanatorium porch under the pouring rain. His fellow newly-hired nurse, a mummified Ruki in hospital garb with a somewhat defective tongue, shrugged, saying: “Wreeeaaah?” “Yes, I know, Vanessa,” he replied, “I’m just saying it’d be proper if he was undead. Or at least a freak of nature. You know, like me.” Blunt stood in silence, before looking back at the figure outside the window. “Is he a freak of nature?” “Graaaeih.” “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. He could be one of those newfangled faerie pets.” Blunt folded his arms over his chest in deep consideration. Lightning struck, and it took a full thirty seconds for the thunder to follow it. “He might get cold out there. We could at least suggest shelter for him if he’d prefer it.” “Ayeeaha?” “Fine, you call Oppo and I’ll persuade him in,” Blunt groaned. “And make it quick. You better not have me waiting as long as the last time.”

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