#[ but AWWWWW he's preening him?!!? :c so cute ! ]

[owlstronomer]

The wetness of a tongue dragging across delicate skin as Parak nuzzled into velvety chest fluff. The clicking of his beak as he bit down on the stem of one feather, amorously licking and cleaning it from tip to base before moving on to the next. He had settled into a pattern now, and seemed determined to preen until it was done.

Stripped of his powers, Stolas had little choice but to follow where Parak nudged, holding him in place like a mannequin as he worked. Alongside the care package he'd abruptly dropped off, the Tailor's behavior had been almost charitable as of late.

"You've neglected yourself," said Parak disapproving, though it was difficult to notice with all the feathers in his mouth.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ As if the gift delivered by the tailor himself had not been enough, Stolas somehow finds himself the subject of a very dedicated and attentive PREENING session. Did this make them friends — or perhaps it was more the case in which Parak found himself absolutely and utterly disapproving of the state Stolas let himself fall into? Reasonable! Though, in the former prince's defense, there was plenty of reason to fall into a pit of [ d e s p a i r ]. Unruly feathers happened to be a rather hefty price to pay. After all, he had no reason to maintain propriety; he would not be attending important meetings or galas, or presenting himself among high society. Speaking around a beak full of feathers, Parak voices his judgement. The sight and sound tug a low series of chuckles from Stolas, which he hastily attempts to stifle. "Ah, yes. It appears I did seem to let the state of my appearance fall short of what it used to be. I... You do not need to busy yourself with this any more, you know. Surely you have better things to tend to than an exiled prince. Is preening me not more trouble than it is worth, hm ?"