Let's Play!

Ansel had every intent to ignore it as long as his wife wanted him. He would answer as he pulled her back to his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head as he let the miss request his presence.

"Ah, is anyone harmed? "

Ansel asked with an apologizing look at Willow.

/I think our eldest might be getting up to no good./

"Well, not in the physical sense," the woman hedged before clearing her throat and pushing onward.

"However, she's very clearly ill, and it's making her very... irritable."



Willow's lonely sulking melted right away as she clung right to his side.

/Brooke? What did she do?/

"Not physical sense, so psychological? "

Ansel asked, shifted to pinch the phone vertebrae his head and shoulder as he went about getting dressed.

"I am on my way, of course. I just want to know what sort of, "

Ansel paused, carefully picking his words as he refrained from calling his kid out for her behavior.

" illness, we're managing? "


/ I'm hoping she's not like, manipulating her classmates or worse./

The woman gave the most long-suffering sigh, and you could practically hear her slouching in defeat.

"Mr. Darrenthrope, I assure you that your child is safe with us, and we are quite capable of handling most things. However, to be frank, we aren't entirely sure the nature of the illness beyond being reasonably certain it's not emergent."

Her chair creaked in the pause as the woman gathered her thoughts.

"Brooke has a low grade fever and a number of complaints pertaining to her avian limbs. She says they aren't behaving. When the nurse tried to examine her, she noted shedding and sensitivity. However, when she tried to get rid of some of the debris, your daughter told her to..."

Some papers rustled and her voice took on the tone of reading something aloud.

"'Get your yucky hands off my feathers. If you keep touching stuff that's not yours, I'll tell everyone about how you like touching Mr. Richards even though he's not yours either.' These allegations were quite upsetting to the nurse, whose husband had just stopped by the office to drop off the keys so they could switch cars."

Ansel started to laugh, unable to help the fatherly pride that stretched across his face.

"You could have led with the fact she's actually ill, rather than imply she was causing trouble. Put my princess on the phone. "

He looked to Willow.

/ She's done nothing wrong. She's standing up for her bodily boundaries well, too. /

Such a proud father one could only dream of. Once he had his kid on the phone, though.

"Hey, Squirt. Was the nurse hurting you? I'm coming to get you, but I think mama should come too. If it's your wings making you sick, mommy knows best about that."

He posed, bringing Willow fully into what was suspected.

"I did, sir," the woman pointed out before getting Brooke.

"Yeah. I hate the nurse. And i hate wings. And i hate school!"

Yeah, cranky was a fair assessment.

"They keep trying to steal my feathers and throw them away! I told them i need them, but they didn't listen."

"You grow new ones, baby girl. Are they pulling them off or are they already loose? "

He glanced to Willow.

/I did not expect the mood swings with the whole feathers thing? /

"No! They're trying to throw away the ones that popped off, but I need them for the feather fairy!"

A voice in the background was gently pointing out that no one was throwing them away and that someone even got her a ziploc bag to put them in.


Willow finished pulling on her shoes with a shrug.

/maybe it's her first molt?/

Her tummy fluttered with a strange mix of excitement and pity.

/ those are a bit uncomfortable./

Ansel smiled a tiny bit.

"Well, mama knows just how to help you with all this and you can both teach me. How's that sound? "

He suggested, opting to join his daughter in ignoring the woman and her defense. This was a distraught child, logic need not apply.

"I guess. Come get me quick, okay? "

"Already on the way, princess. Will you try to be nice to Mrs. Davenport while you're waiting? "

He asked of his girl, hoping she could be convinced that being snappy would slow him down.

"What scent bubble bath would you like when you get home? Maybe cartoons and use mommy and daddy's jet tub, too?"

"No. I don't wanna be nice. I'm never gonna talk to her ever again."

However, Brooke was distracted by the suggestions.

"I don't wanna bath. I wanna cookie and a nap with you."

Which should have been a red flag enough.

Ansel paused, thinking it through.

"We can certainly arrange that, squirt. How about you just do that not talking with her and I'll make sure we can have all the nap cuddles, hmm?"

He posed, glancing to Willow as he finished up the call with Brooke.

"I.... is infection a risk with molting? "

He asked, baffled.

Willow blinked a couple times.

"Um... the only time I've ever had anything like that was the one time I managed to keep them inside while i was molting. But there's no way she'd be able to do that. At least, not if she's like me."

"..... how so? "

He asked as they headed to the car. He didn't know. But she had him willing to learn these days, so it was something, yeah?

Shame crept in. Willow was quiet as she sat, eyes fixed on the floorboard.

"Like I told you before, I can't pull them back in while I'm molting. Things inside kinda... swell? And the thing in my chest gets kinda stuck open."

She gently tapped her sternum with her forefinger as she slightly relaxed the organ near her heart that controlled her wings' retraction, though not enough for them to emerge. Just enough for him to know what she was talking about.

"I only managed it that one time for you, and that was as an adult. It was still extremely difficult... and very painful," she mumbled.

"A child doesn't have the strength, control, or tolerance to make her body do something it isn't supposed to, especially if she's already upset. Believe me, I had every incentive and tried my hardest. My first molt is what made the doctors decide that removing them was the best option for my rehabilitation."

She rubbed her finger along the rubber window seal, drawing attention away from the bad.

"You said she said they weren't behaving? She probably meant that she can't pull them in."

Ansel nodded, quietly reaching to hold her hand in his as he drove along.

"You know, she's all upset about it all. I feel bad . I thought at first she'd gotten into trouble, not that she was having a hard time herself. "

"It's not your fault, and you were already going to fix it, even before you fully understood. That's plenty. And don't worry about her being upset. She'll be okay."

Her soft answer was steady, but her eyes studied his hand around hers, uncertain.

"I .... it's ... is there like indicators before it happens? To like, just let them stay home? "

He asked, trying to think of a way to help in the future. Maybe spare Rosie the struggles.

Willow shook her head slowly.

"Not that I know of. Sometimes it's a little achy for an hour or two before it starts, but I usually start in my sleep."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. This sounds like the worst thing. "

He really meant it. He had no real reference for being ill beyond the time someone tried to do him in with bleach. So he was genuinely thinking of that experience as the same and felt so bad for his girls.

Willow's mouth twitched.

"It's really not. It's only a little uncomfortable. She's just a kid is all."

"Poor little thing."

He confirmed with a little side glance at Willow.

"You poor thing. You should take it easy when dealing with it. Like, do you want me to carry you around and stuff? I can totally get one of those chaise lounge travel bed things...."

He said, contemplating it right his moment.

Willow cracked and chuckled.

"Ansel, I mean it. It's really not a big deal. I'd put it on the same level as a sore muscle. It's more an inconvenience than anything else."

Ansel shook his head.

"She said no to cartoons in a bubble bath! "

He protested with a look at Willow as they pulled up to the school.

" You should rest and treat yourself carefully when you're dealing with it. You don't need to push yourself. "

He had decided this one all on his own, and he was not likely to budge on it.

Willow studied the building, distracted.

"It looks just like they do on TV."

Ansel smiled at her, gingerly circling her waist as he brought to her side, kissing her temple.

" Yes. Ready to get our little girl? "

Suddenly, she wasn't. Willow was afraid to go inside. This all seemed far more than she knew how to handle. She was acutely aware of her own alienness and the implications and worries paralyzed her lungs. What if she was about to wake up and go back to reality?

"Yeah," she told him, despite all of that.

Ansel lightly rubbed his thumb against her hip, gingerly reminding her that he was right here. Nothing and no one was going to crash that reality. This really was real life and they were just going to pick up their baby girl from school.

He looked passively tolerant of the locks on the front doors, waiting to be buzzed in and guided down the hall towards the nurse's office for Brooke.

Glass doors and little metal locks. It's almost insulting. At this point at least have a little particle board to give me a splinter.

He passively noted to Willow, though it was clearly a roaming thought that leaked out rather than intentional.

Willow didn't smile, but she was slightly soothed by his ease nonetheless.

/ didn't you choose this place? /

He was unimpressed, but she was amazed. From staff members complaining by the copier to the art with bright, messy strokes pinned to the wall, there was so much to look at. She couldn't stop herself from slowing a little as they passed a classroom, so she could get a tiny glimpse of the students and teacher through the glass panel in the door.

/ Well, yes. But they building was being remodeled. I didn't think they were going to go standard model entry, though. Before they were just large wooden doors. Really, the students that attend here don't need more than standard doors. It isn't like certain types are going to be more effective as a whole. /

Doors were more courtesy items in his opinion. He noted Willow's wonder though and had softened to a slower pace, letting her take as much in as she wished while guiding her to the office at the end of the hall.

Willow smiled to herself, pleased as she thought about how lucky her children were. They would be able to come here every day and have people teach them the things they needed to know to live good lives.

/ I've never been in a school before, but the door seems like it wouldn't affect the quality of the rest of the school-ness./

/True./

Ansel allowed, smiling as he saw Brooke walk out from the little examine room, squatting down with arms open.

"Come here, squirt."

Brooke shuffled over, clutching a gallon sized ziploc half filled with her own feathers.

"I got them all."

She showed him the bag.

"The feather fairy must leave something real good, right? "

Ansel looked at his baby girl and picked her right up, cuddling her to him.

/ I've never heard of this feather fairy? /

But conned out of something awesome or not, he was already nodding. Of course! His poor little girl all pathetic and stuff. He glanced to Willow. Poor wife, going through all this stuff feeling so awful. He needed to step it up.

"Maybe your mama can help you prepare for that tonight. Daddy doesn't have a clue about the fairy cause he's never had feathers to lose, you see. "

"If the tooth fairy comes when you lose your teeth, then there's gotta be a feather fairy," she explained primly.


Willow stood there, blinking stupidly. A feather fairy? What the heck? Were they supporting this idea?

"Um... it takes three days to molt, so probably nothing will happen until then?"

Ansel barely restrained himself from laughing at the look Willow gave him.

"Sounds logical to me. So we have a few more days to wait. Kay? "

He soothed to his little girl, prefectly happy to cuddle her out to the car.

"Daddy has to drive, let's let mommy cuddle you and keep you snug until we get back home. Ok?"

He urged, decided phooey on car rules right now. His poor little girl.

"I don't want her. I want you. You hold me and she can drive instead."

"Brooke, I can't. I don't know how to drive a car," Willow pointed out quietly.

"It's not hard. You push one thing to go, one to stop, and turn the wheel to pick where to go." Brooke glowered at her mother crankily before burying her face into her father's neck. "Why did you have to pick a stupid mom for me?" the child complained with pure disdain.

A flicker of a response, a motherly chide kindled in willow, but it never passed her lips. She wasn't a mother the same way she used to be, so she didn't have much place acting like it. Besides, honestly, she didn't really disagree with the kid. It had made sense when Ansel had explained his original reasoning, but now that she was here, willow couldn't see any point to her coming along. She didn't have anything helpful to add to the situation. She was pretty useless, in fact.

That said, the child's unkindness didn't cause any actual upset. With little more than pity for the child, Willow just silently opened the car door for Ansel.

Ansel sighed.

"That was not right, squirt. She has different strengths than I do. She's your mom, Brooke. You have no idea how precious it is to have her. If you carry on like this, you might lose the relationship you could have with her.... and that would break me, Squirt."

He was genuine, but throttling back hard. A strong urge to smack Brooke's comments away with unleashed aggression churned just below the calm surface. His adoration for his daughter and sympathy for her suffering fell short when faced with the challenge to his loyalty for his wife.

He meant every word, too. He treasured his mother and their relationship, just as he appreciated and respected his with his father. If the roles were reversed for Brooke he could accept it, but to just continue to reject and confront and hurt and..... no. His poor wife.

/ it's okay, Ansel. I'm okay, / willow reassured softly. / don't worry about it. She's at her worst right now. I understand. /

"But since I can't drive, you have to decide. Do you want to ride with me or by yourself?"

Brooke stopped her wordless protests and considered her parents with child calculations.

"With you," she eventually decided, purely because it was closer to her dad.