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esp_dragonv2) wrote2024-08-17 08:32 pm
esp_dragonv2) wrote2024-08-17 08:32 pm
Grounded
Fandom: Noblesse
Summary: M-21's wings had grounded him. They were useless, just like he was. But Frankenstein and Muzaka seem to think differently for some reason.
Notes: Harpy AU.
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word count: 5,222
Status: Work in progress
M-21's wings had grounded him. They were useless, just like he was. His wings had been small in the Union, but they were fucking miniscule compared to Muzaka's, a third the size at best. Not strong enough to carry his weight, no additional claws to use as a weapon or hefty enough they would give him a proper advantage in a fight. Just dead weight on his back.
"Hey, M-21," Muzaka said, poking his head into the kitchen, "you free?"
Free as he could be from the Union, yes, but M-21 doubted that was what Muzaka was asking.
M-21 shrugged with one shoulder, turning his attention back to his tea. "Yeah." What did Muzaka want to talk about?
"Great! I'll preen yer feathers for you."
M-21 froze, Muzaka wanted to do what?
He didn't react in time before Muzaka slung an arm around his shoulder and dragged him to the living room.
There were two square cushions next to each other on the floor that hadn't been there before. Muzaka had planned this. Of course he had. But why the fuck would he want to do this in the first place?
"Sit where you want!"
A choice of two... M-21 sat cross-legged at the furthest away cushion, hearing Muzaka settle down behind him, and that was enough to make M-21's feathers puff up. As if that pathetic threat display would deter anyone, let alone Muzaka.
"It's fine, it's fine, heh," Muzaka said, ruffling M-21's head, making him freeze again, bracing for a hit or Muzaka grabbing him. It didn't happen. "I ain't gonna hurt ya - it's just preening.
'Just' preening. M-21 had seen it done between other experiment series, but his own series hadn't done it much, too weak and exhausted most of the time. M-24 had lost all of his head feathers before he and M-21 started getting missions outside the Union labs, and M-21 had been too busy making sure they stayed out of the Union labs to care about preening. What was the point anyway? He couldn't fly so why waste time on his feathers that didn't do anything?
There had been times when he'd woken up to M-24 running his fingers thought M-21's feathers but that...was different. Just making sure M-21 was still there.
M-21 gritted his teeth, but his feathers didn't flatten. What did Muzaka really want to do with him? A show of power? The difference between their strengths was laughable just looking at them, but Muzaka would have to prove it too.
M-21 braced himself when he heard Muzaka move.
Another ruffle of M-21's head feathers and he bit back his warning hiss, feeling it bubble up his throat. He just had to bear through whatever Muzaka was going to do. Hissing would make it last longer.
Muzaka's hands stayed on M-21's head, tugging at his feathers one by one. Not hard enough to pull them out, but just enough to...straighten them. ...Preen them?
M-21 tried to count his breaths, dug his nails into his knees but all he could focus on was Muzaka's hands on his feathers, trying to predict where Muzaka would move next, when Muzaka would finally lash out. His feathers almost tingled in the aftermath when Muzaka turned his attention to the next batch, M-21 hyperaware of everything Muzaka touched.
He wanted to pull away. Run. Get the fuck out of the room. Muzaka was too close. Too close to M-21's useless fucking wings and if Muzaka wanted to, he could rip them off.
Muzaka didn't, fingers working down M-21's head.
Muzaka had to be waiting for M-21's guard to drop. That had to be it. So M-21 would scream louder when the pain hit.
Muzaka continued working on preening M-21's head.
It already felt different, like a scratch M-21 hadn't known was there and Muzaka had dealt with it.
M-21 let out a shaky breath as the seconds ticked by, feeling his heart thudding in his chest. Still nothing.
Except Muzaka preening him.
How long was this going to take? Was Muzaka going to preen everything? That would take hours! M-21 was barely holding on, nails digging into his trousers to stop him from moving, every muscle taut.
Muzaka chirped.
What?
Why had Muzaka done that? Was it a warning? Had M-21 been too obvious he didn't want to fucking be there?
Muzaka's hands had slowed too, like he was waiting for something, but M-21 couldn't think what it could be, all his attention on Muzaka instead.
Muzaka chirped again, dragging each note out.
Shit, Muzaka wanted something and M-21 couldn't fucking guess what. M-21 couldn't fly and he couldn't fucking understand what a fucking simple chirp meant, like the useless trash he really was.
Was he meant to repeat it back if Muzaka did it again?
M-21 couldn't get his throat to work - it was already closed when he'd stopped himself hissing earlier and now it wouldn't fucking open and just what the fuck could he do? He was able to squeeze out a raspy croak, but it sounded nothing like the melodic chirp Muzaka had just done.
Idiot.
He couldn't fucking do anything! He was worse than an unmodified human if he couldn't even do the basics of what a harpy should!
Another quick chirp from Muzaka, followed by a laugh.
Shit. Muzaka found it funny he'd failed so fucking ba-
A hand on M-21's head again, ruffling all the feathers Muzaka had just preened. "That should be enough for now."
M-21 was on his feet and out the living room before Muzaka could say anything else.
He made it to his room and was only able to breathe again when he slammed the door behind him. Frankenstein would be pissed at the noise but M-21 had to get into his room.
He stared at his hands, panting. He was trembling all over even though Muzaka hadn't even done anything to him. Just did exactly what he said he would.
Maybe it would have been better if Muzaka had done something. M-21 would have expected it, he would know where he stood with Muzaka and know that it would happen again. Right now, he didn't know when Muzaka would lash out or what would set Muzaka off.
It took a while before M-21 calmed down, the rest of the house silent once he could hear it over his roaring heart and gasping breath. Neither Muzaka or Frankenstein banging on his door demanding an explanation for what he'd done.
They would ask later.
M-21 knew they would.
* * *
M-21 glowered when Muzaka's head popped out from above the balcony. "What did you say?"
"Come up here?" Muzaka said, still grinning.
He'd heard right. Fuck. If he refused, Muzaka would drag him up anyway. This had to be his punishment from earlier.
M-21 climbed up, Muzaka already on a perch that looked like it was made from a trunk rather than a branch, his wings flapping like only his claws were keeping him on the branch.
The perch itself was huge, with three trunks that had a bunch of criss-crossing different sections going higher and higher. That was just for Muzaka, or were there other harpies that M-21 hadn't seen yet?
M-21 could feel the drop reaching out towards him from behind and he moved closer to the centre of the roof, closer to the perch tree. He'd be fine if he fell from this height but there had been too many times he had been thrown from a roof for someone else's amusement.
"C'mon!" Muzaka said, hopping from foot to foot, his flapping getting even stronger. "Let's fly! The weather's great for it."
Was it? M-21 stared at him, not looking up at the sky, because what was the point?
Muzaka's smile dimmed. "You don't wanna?"
Through gritted teeth, M-21 said, "I can't." Why did Muzaka think M-21 had jumped up instead of flying? Hadn't Muzaka noticed M-21 hadn't flown a single time since they'd met?
Muzaka cocked his head to the side, chirping, and the sound made M-21's feathers fluff up again. Did Muzaka want him to explain? To say in detail just how weak he really was?
"Then I can teach ya."
"What's there to teach?" M-21 scoffed. "My wings are fucking broken." It was obvious just looking at him. They were so small in comparison to Muzaka's - they couldn't hold his weight.
Muzaka studied him, his feathers flicking up and down.
"You want Frankenstein to look at 'em then? He'd be able to figure out's going on."
He didn't want to be at the mercy of another scientist so soon, but M-21 didn't have a fucking choice here, did he? "Fine."
Frankenstein wouldn't be able to do anything about them anyway. The Union scientists hadn't, and they there the ones who knew his series the best.
* * *
M-21 had made a mistake. He shouldn't have admitted his weakness.
"Does this hurt?" Frankenstein barely moved M-21's wing.
"No."
Frankenstein was taking his time, being gentle, but that meant he was taking fucking forever to get through his examination. It was worse than getting preened by Muzaka - the power difference between M-21 and Muzaka was obvious, but Frankenstein was evaluating M-21, seeing every one of M-21's flaws. Everything that was wrong with him. Which was every part of him.
He was too aware of where Frankenstein's hands were, how close the scientist was.
"Hmm."
What did that mean? M-21s body was broken as Frankenstein expected or even worse? That M-21 was so weak that he wasn't any use to them?
"As far as I can tell," Frankenstein said, stepping back and around so M-21 could see him again, "there doesn't appear to be any malunions and while a little deconditioned, I didn't find anything wrong with your musculoskeletal structure that could be the reason for your inability to fly."
M-21 could see Muzaka nodding along while M-21 put together what Frankenstein said.
Weak. He was fucking weak. That was what Frankenstein was saying under all the scientist jargon.
"So I'm just too fucking stupid to know how to fly," M-21 said, gritting his teeth.
He couldn't even figure out something that could have come instinctively. He really was just trash.
Muzaka shared a look with Frankenstein. M-21 was right, hah.
"I'd say it's 'cause you never got the chance to," Muzaka said slowly, to make sure M-21 understood every word.
"Because I couldn't." Why the fuck weren't they getting it? Ever since M-21 could remember his time in the lab, he had never been able to fly.
Muzaka crossed his arms with a sigh. "Because your feathers were clipped."
What. "Like that'd make a fucking dif…"
Would clipping his feathers stop him from flying? "They'd never-"
The check ups. He'd hear the snips while they drew his blood but he hadn't paid it that much attention, mind furiously working out the best time to intercept the test results before the scientists saw them, ignoring the itching feeling across his skin as the scientists touched him.
"And once you think you can never fly," Frankenstein said quietly, "you stop trying altogether."
M-21 couldn't stop staring at them. That.... That couldn't be right. He didn't fly because he couldn't. Not because he thought he couldn't. There had been so many times he'd been thrown off a roof - his wings hadn't worked and he'd either had to catch himself on the wall or slammed into the ground, their laughter ringing in his ears.
"Whatever," he muttered instead. Frankenstein was a scientist - he was making it up as he went along. That's what they all did.
* * *
M-21 hunched on his bed, his wings curled around as much as they could reach around him. He'd never bothered to give them a proper look before - he hadn't had the time between missions, and why would he want to stare at the reminder of his weakness? The only time his wings were paid attention to was when M-24 cleaned the parts M-21 couldn't reach after a fight.
There were a couple of bald patches and M-21 studied them - they were on the wrong side to have been ripped out from a fight. Was he dropping feathers like M-24 had?
Frankenstein hadn't said anything about bald patches, only the clipped feathers. Wouldn't the bald patches be more important? Was his body breaking down again like before, but slower?
Frankenstein would have noticed. Should have noticed with the amount of time he'd spent studying M-21's wings, but M-21 knew how easily scientists could be distracted or focus on the wrong thing for months at a time before changing direction.
M-21 flapped his wings, feeling his feathers dragging against his bed. No. He couldn't fly. His wings weren't strong enough.
At the bottom of his wings, M-21 found a ragged line of feathers, clearly cut.
Wait.
His wings really had been clipped? Then... What did Muzaka's feathers look like in comparison? M-21 couldn't picture them other than Muzaka's wings were so much bigger and fuller than M-21's own.
Could he really not fly just because of his feathers and not because the rest of him was broken?
Was it that fucking easy to ground him?
Could he really fly?
* * *
M-21 stood out on the balcony, the night breeze ruffling his feathers, making him even more aware of them, and where they weren't.
He hadn't done anything except stand there and his heart had already picked up, making his skin thrum.
He'd done this before. At higher heights.
He still couldn't make himself take one step towards the balcony railing.
It wasn't going to work.
He couldn't fly.
He knew that. No matter what he'd done, he couldn't fly.
He would try and he would fail, and Muzaka and Frankenstein would laugh at him for believing such a stupid lie.
There had to be a camera around, recording him making an idiot of himself, for even trusting their words, for hoping
It wouldn't work.
M-21 span on his heel and walked back inside.
* * *
M-21 braced himself every time Muzaka brushed his fingers through M-21's feathers, expecting a yank or pulling at his wings. But Muzaka's touch stayed soft, like he was using the least amount of strength he needed to preen.
M-21 felt the difference when Muzaka reached the bald areas of his wings, and that somehow made M-21 feel more exposed that Muzaka could see them, even if nothing had changed. It was just more proof how weak M-21 really was, how much his body was breaking down.
Muzaka ran a finger over a bald spot and M-21 fought to not jerk his wing away from the touch, trying to hide it.
"Yer feathers are startin' to come out again - that's great!"
M-21 frowned. "They're growing back?" M-24's feathers never grew back... Was that another difference between them? Why M-21 had stopped needing the pills and why his body hadn't broken down as badly?
"Of course. Our feathers are always growing."
But they weren't. M-21 wouldn't have empty patches and M-24 wouldn't have been bald for so long if they did.
"Why do you think your wings had to be clipped so often?"
Why- Had they? M-21 and M-24 had needed so many check-ups when they first started taking outside missions. The scientists had said it was to make sure they'd adapted well to the outside, but...
M-21 could still hear the slice of scissors and the tug on his wings at those check-ups, but he'd never looked back at them, never asked what they were doing. They would have never explained anyway, muttering it was for the experimentation and testing.
Why had M-21 believed them? Why had he not questioned their words like he usually did?
"But-" Fuck it. Why should he ask? Muzaka had to be lying too, to get M-21 on his side.
"Yeah?"
Of course Muzaka heard him - there was no-one else in the living room to distract him, and Muzaka was right there at his back.
Ask and be lied to, or don't ask and Muzaka kept demanding an answer. Or M-21 could ask a different question instead. Except M-21's brain was just...tired, and wouldn't give him any alternatives.
"I forgot." It wasn't even a fucking lie. It was just harder to think now, especially when he was distracted by Muzaka's hands in his feathers.
"Well, when you remember, come ask me then!"
M-21 would rather pull all his feathers out than do that.
Muzaka chirped. It was a distraction and M-21 would take that instead of trying to make his brain work or keep going with the conversation.
M-21 chirped back, the notes flowing a bit better than last time. There. It sounded similar to what Muzaka had done.
Muzaka chirped again, twice as fast and twice as many notes.
...What the fuck was that?
* * *
M-21's feathers would grow back? He peered at his wings after Muzaka had let him go, trying to see what Muzaka had.
His wings looked the same as the last time he'd seen them. Muzaka must have been lying then, giving M-21 false hope.
M-21 ran his fingertips over a bald patch and then frowned, passing his fingers over again.
He hadn't touched his wings when he had checked them last time, but something in the patch was scratching back.
New feathers...?
M-21 pulled his wing closer, his nose almost touching skin, and at this distance, he could maybe see something poking out of his skin, right where the bumps were.
Where feathers should be.
Muzaka had been telling the truth about his feathers.
That didn't-
Did that mean he could really fly?
* * *
M-21 stood on the balcony, hearing cars passing by in the next street over.
It had already been a few days since his conversation with Muzaka. it had taken him so long, but he couldn't one step away from the wall.
He was only one floor off the ground - he'd climbed up skyscrapers with no problems.
Not with the intention to fly though. He'd been on rooftops because he'd had to for trade-offs or to get a better vantage point.
Last time, he'd gone to the roof because Muzaka had ordered him to. He'd had to do it.
Now that it was his own choice...
M-21 stared out at the balcony. It was two steps and then he would be at the railing.
Two steps.
That was all.
He took one step forward and - No. He wasn't going to do it.
It wasn't going to work. There was no point trying when he knew he was going to fail.
M-21 retreated back into the house.
He was a fucking coward. He couldn't get up onto the-
M-21 stopped short, seeing Muzaka in the corridor. Shit. Muzaka had seen all that and was going to mock him for failing, for being too scared to even reach the roof in the first place.
Muzaka grinned, all his teeth on display, stepping towards him.
Could he run? Pretend Muzaka's attention wasn't on him and just walk past? Except Muzaka was looking directly at him and M-21 couldn't look away.
Muzaka lifted a hand and M-21 braced himself for the hit.
"Great job!" He reached forward and patted M-21's shoulder.
M-21 stared at him. Why the fuck had Muzaka said that? "I didn't fucking do anything." The opposite, in fact. Why was he getting praise?
Muzaka's grin didn't change. "But you thought about it, an' you gave it a go."
M-21's feathers puffing out and he couldn't make them lie flat again. "And failed!" Had Muzaka missed that somehow? Had Muzaka thought M-21 was coming back from a flight? "I didn't even get to the roof." Because he was a fucking coward. "In the Union-"
"You're not in the Union here." Muzaka's grin was gone.
M-21 stared at Muzaka. He knew that. "But in the Union-"
"We're not the Union," Muzaka interrupted again, a slight sigh between his words.
Obviously. Why was Muzaka repeating himself? M-21 had heard him the first time.
"So we don't work the same as them."
M-21 was able to catch himself before he snorted. It was clearly a lie. All organisations operated the same way: only strength and being of use was valued. Trash cowards were disposed without a thought and replaced with a better batch of experiments.
Muzaka sighed before M-21 could say anything, patting his shoulder again. "You made a good start." He turned and left while M-21 stared after him.
What was the point in starting something if he couldn't finish it as well?
* * *
It didn't make sense. Muzaka and Frankenstein didn't make sense. The pair didn't act like what M-21 was used to, how he expected them to.
They were just lulling him into a false sense of security so they could laugh at him harder when he fell for it.
The Union scientists didn't keep it up for this long though.
And this wasn't apparently the Union.
That was just another lie. M-21 could picture their jeering faces already.
But he could also remember their stillness whenever they asked M-21 about what he thought was going to happen.
Their weird soft voices, said slowly as if - as if? They thought he couldn't understand? No, that couldn't be it. Then why did they speak like that sometimes?
M-21 tightened his arms around his knees, his wings wrapped around him.
They were good actors. That was all.
And he was falling for it.
That was why he didn't feel certain right now.
* * *
M-21 wanted to look anywhere but at Frankenstein, but that meant looking at the lab equipment instead or at whatever Frankenstein was preparing next for the check-up.
It had only been a few days since the last one and M-21 controlled his expression as Frankenstein picked up the needle and vials.
More blood tests.
Muzaka might have said he and Frankenstein were different from the Union, but this was proving M-21 was just a test subject to Frankenstein, something to gain more information from.
That was fine. This M-21 could understand compared to what Muzaka had tried to tell him.
Frankenstein was wanting more check-ups compared to what the Union scientists did. Why? To get more information about the experiments M-21 had gone through? M-21 was a traitor already so it didn't matter if he added giving away Union secrets to it - he would be killed anyway when the Union got their hands on him again.
Was Frankenstein keeping track of how much M-21's body was breaking down? Frankenstein would have said how long M-21 had left by now, which was probably why Frankenstein kept taking more tests.
Frankenstein had been talking while taking M-21's blood and he struggled to pay attention to it over his own thoughts. He had to know what Frankenstein was saying so he could react appropriately, but all scientists didn't say anything important during check-ups.
Still, M-21 had to figure out Frankenstein's habits and to do that, he had to pay attention at the right times.
"How are you feeling about your ability to fly now?"
He shouldn't have fucking brought it up with them, because now they knew and weren't going to fucking stop asking him about it.
Should he lie and pretend he'd already flown? But Frankenstein would ask Muzaka and find out the truth, and then M-21 would be in bigger trouble. Or Frankenstein would want him to prove it.
M-21 shrugged, his wings rustling. "I don't think I can fly yet." Give Frankenstein enough information to make Frankenstein think he was trying, not that M-21 couldn't do it at all.
"No, you won't be able to while your feathers are still growing back," Frankenstein mused, checking the blood was flowing smoothly into the vial, "but it shouldn't be too long now."
M-21 stopped himself from checking his wings again, watching Frankenstein writing something on one of the vials. A couple of feathers growing back wasn't going to make any difference. He couldn't do it, no matter what Muzaka and Frankenstein said. It wasn't because he 'believed' he couldn't fly - it was because he knew it.
"Would you like some guidance from myself or Muzaka before then?"
Fuck no. M-21 had spent more than enough time around them - he didn't want to ask them to assess him too.
How was Frankenstein meant to help him anyway? Frankenstein wasn't a harpy - he didn't know how to fly.
"I'll think about it," M-21 said, studying Frankenstein's reaction.
No narrowing of the eyes, no stilling, nothing to indicate Frankenstein was suspicious it was a delaying tactic. All Frankenstein did was nod as he removed the needle, pressing a cotton ball to M-21's skin.
They really didn't act anyone from the Union... If M-21 had tried the same shit in the Union, there would have been veiled threats and annoyance that he wasn't performing well enough, until they stopped asking because they knew what the answer would be.
Why didn't Muzaka or Frankenstein care he couldn't do it?
* * *
M-21 sat on the stool in his room, studying his wings again. He'd done that more times in the past month than the entire time he could remember in the Union.
He swept his right wing out, bringing his left wing down in front of him.
He'd used them in fights, had gained an advantage because he had more limbs than his opponent. He knew how to use them.
But were they strong enough to carry his weight? No.
He hissed, dropping his head as he rested his wings at his back.
Why did he keep thinking about it? He had never flown before and he wouldn't be able to do it just because Muzaka and Frankenstein said he could.
A laugh drew his attention outside his window, and he looked out, seeing a flash of silver. He knew what he would see, but he went over to have a better look anyway.
Muzaka was in the sky, his wings keeping him in the air with every powerful beat that M-21 could hear through the window.
His chest tightened at the sight, his lungs feeling like they were being squeezed and he couldn't take a proper breath in, but he couldn't look away either. Muzaka span in circles in a way M-21 had never seen before, and he felt his own wings tense like they were trying to do what Muzaka's were.
Idiot.
He couldn't do that. He knew that.
He didn't need to fly.
He'd done fine without it so far.
M-21's wings kept twitching like they were trying to mimic Muzaka's movements, ignoring his thoughts.
* * *
M-21 felt Muzaka's eyes on him in the kitchen after hearing him approach. Usually if they bumped into each other in the house, Muzaka would start a conversation about M-21's day. That had already happened.
So when Muzaka paused, watching him, it meant something else.
M-21 sighed. This was becoming a regular occurrence now that he was starting to predict it.
"Preening?" M-21 said.
Muzaka burst out into a grin. "Yeah! If you've got the time."
It wasn't like M-21 was doing anything else, or that he had a choice.
There were tea and snacks at the table this time as M-21 settled down on the cushion.
"Why do you want to do this?" M-21 muttered as he eyed the food. There were two cups of tea, next to their respective cushions, so one was definitely for him and there was an empty plate next it, probably to hold the snacks. "My feathers get tangled up again anyway." Which was why Muzaka had to start from the top again when they did this. What was the point wasting time when Muzaka could be doing other things instead?
"Showers feel good, yeah?" Muzaka started preening at M-21's head like he knew he would.
...That wasn't what M-21 asked, but he would go along with it. "Yeah." Especially the hot ones he could have here.
"You get dirty again afterwards, don't you?"
"...Yeah." It wasn't as bad here, because he had them so often now that he didn't have to cl - oh.
"If ya didn't have regular showers, all that dirt would collect on top of each other." Muzaka kept preening, already moving closer to M-21's wings, so much faster compared to the first time. "It's...maintenance. An' it helps keep up social bonds too."
M-21 snorted. Social bonds? "That's why you're doing this?" It wasn't just about sorting out his feathers? Why would Muzaka care about social bonds with him?
Why did every interaction with Muzaka or Frankenstein leave him scrambling to understand what the hell they were saying? Nothing they did made any sense.
M-21 heard Muzaka nod, his feathers rustling. "Strengthening and reinforcin' them, y'know?"
No, he didn't.
Muzaka's hands slowed. "You never did this in the Union?"
M-21's feathers fluffed up and he tried to get them back down. Why was it so easy for Muzaka to make him react? He'd been treated worse in the Union and he could control himself.
Because he was expecting it there.
He couldn't predict what Muzaka or Frankenstein would say here.
Of course he'd never done this in the Union. The M-series were too busy trying to survive the experiments, and trying to recover from them before the next round began. They sometimes barely had the energy to breathe, let alone focus on how dirty their feathers were or trying to 'strengthen bonds' when they didn't even know if they would survive another-
"Hey, you okay?" Muzaka's hands had stopped, ruffling M-21's head instead.
"'m fine," M-21 muttered, pushing Muzaka's hand away with a wing. He was being too distracted again, too obvious his mind was elsewhere. He kept slipping up now. Too often. In the Union, he would have made a bigger mistake if the scientists had noticed and he would have been killed already.
But this wasn't the Union. Apparently.
Muzaka surprisingly didn't follow up, going back to preening.
Not the Union. Muzaka wasn't supposed to act like he was in the Union. Because he wasn't.
Except they were lying. They had to be.
M-21's attention snapped back at a chirp and he exhaled, focusing on that instead of his circling thoughts.
He repeated back Muzaka's tune, the notes coming even easier than before, now that he knew what to do and had done it a few times.
...It didn't used to be so easy, but now it already was.
Muzaka chirped again, the song similar to before, just a bit longer.
M-21 took a deep breath to repeat it back but paused, narrowing his eyes.
"Is this something else to 'develop social bonds'?" He didn't hear a lot of songs in the Union, definitely not like what Muzaka did.
"Yep!" Muzaka chirped again, preening M-21's wings. "Flocks have their own songs that we use to recognise each other by."
Hah, M-21 could recognise Muzaka by sight - he didn't need a song to know that.
A song? That Muzaka was teaching him?
...Muzaka was treating him as his flock...?
Summary: M-21's wings had grounded him. They were useless, just like he was. But Frankenstein and Muzaka seem to think differently for some reason.
Notes: Harpy AU.
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word count: 5,222
Status: Work in progress
M-21's wings had grounded him. They were useless, just like he was. His wings had been small in the Union, but they were fucking miniscule compared to Muzaka's, a third the size at best. Not strong enough to carry his weight, no additional claws to use as a weapon or hefty enough they would give him a proper advantage in a fight. Just dead weight on his back.
"Hey, M-21," Muzaka said, poking his head into the kitchen, "you free?"
Free as he could be from the Union, yes, but M-21 doubted that was what Muzaka was asking.
M-21 shrugged with one shoulder, turning his attention back to his tea. "Yeah." What did Muzaka want to talk about?
"Great! I'll preen yer feathers for you."
M-21 froze, Muzaka wanted to do what?
He didn't react in time before Muzaka slung an arm around his shoulder and dragged him to the living room.
There were two square cushions next to each other on the floor that hadn't been there before. Muzaka had planned this. Of course he had. But why the fuck would he want to do this in the first place?
"Sit where you want!"
A choice of two... M-21 sat cross-legged at the furthest away cushion, hearing Muzaka settle down behind him, and that was enough to make M-21's feathers puff up. As if that pathetic threat display would deter anyone, let alone Muzaka.
"It's fine, it's fine, heh," Muzaka said, ruffling M-21's head, making him freeze again, bracing for a hit or Muzaka grabbing him. It didn't happen. "I ain't gonna hurt ya - it's just preening.
'Just' preening. M-21 had seen it done between other experiment series, but his own series hadn't done it much, too weak and exhausted most of the time. M-24 had lost all of his head feathers before he and M-21 started getting missions outside the Union labs, and M-21 had been too busy making sure they stayed out of the Union labs to care about preening. What was the point anyway? He couldn't fly so why waste time on his feathers that didn't do anything?
There had been times when he'd woken up to M-24 running his fingers thought M-21's feathers but that...was different. Just making sure M-21 was still there.
M-21 gritted his teeth, but his feathers didn't flatten. What did Muzaka really want to do with him? A show of power? The difference between their strengths was laughable just looking at them, but Muzaka would have to prove it too.
M-21 braced himself when he heard Muzaka move.
Another ruffle of M-21's head feathers and he bit back his warning hiss, feeling it bubble up his throat. He just had to bear through whatever Muzaka was going to do. Hissing would make it last longer.
Muzaka's hands stayed on M-21's head, tugging at his feathers one by one. Not hard enough to pull them out, but just enough to...straighten them. ...Preen them?
M-21 tried to count his breaths, dug his nails into his knees but all he could focus on was Muzaka's hands on his feathers, trying to predict where Muzaka would move next, when Muzaka would finally lash out. His feathers almost tingled in the aftermath when Muzaka turned his attention to the next batch, M-21 hyperaware of everything Muzaka touched.
He wanted to pull away. Run. Get the fuck out of the room. Muzaka was too close. Too close to M-21's useless fucking wings and if Muzaka wanted to, he could rip them off.
Muzaka didn't, fingers working down M-21's head.
Muzaka had to be waiting for M-21's guard to drop. That had to be it. So M-21 would scream louder when the pain hit.
Muzaka continued working on preening M-21's head.
It already felt different, like a scratch M-21 hadn't known was there and Muzaka had dealt with it.
M-21 let out a shaky breath as the seconds ticked by, feeling his heart thudding in his chest. Still nothing.
Except Muzaka preening him.
How long was this going to take? Was Muzaka going to preen everything? That would take hours! M-21 was barely holding on, nails digging into his trousers to stop him from moving, every muscle taut.
Muzaka chirped.
What?
Why had Muzaka done that? Was it a warning? Had M-21 been too obvious he didn't want to fucking be there?
Muzaka's hands had slowed too, like he was waiting for something, but M-21 couldn't think what it could be, all his attention on Muzaka instead.
Muzaka chirped again, dragging each note out.
Shit, Muzaka wanted something and M-21 couldn't fucking guess what. M-21 couldn't fly and he couldn't fucking understand what a fucking simple chirp meant, like the useless trash he really was.
Was he meant to repeat it back if Muzaka did it again?
M-21 couldn't get his throat to work - it was already closed when he'd stopped himself hissing earlier and now it wouldn't fucking open and just what the fuck could he do? He was able to squeeze out a raspy croak, but it sounded nothing like the melodic chirp Muzaka had just done.
Idiot.
He couldn't fucking do anything! He was worse than an unmodified human if he couldn't even do the basics of what a harpy should!
Another quick chirp from Muzaka, followed by a laugh.
Shit. Muzaka found it funny he'd failed so fucking ba-
A hand on M-21's head again, ruffling all the feathers Muzaka had just preened. "That should be enough for now."
M-21 was on his feet and out the living room before Muzaka could say anything else.
He made it to his room and was only able to breathe again when he slammed the door behind him. Frankenstein would be pissed at the noise but M-21 had to get into his room.
He stared at his hands, panting. He was trembling all over even though Muzaka hadn't even done anything to him. Just did exactly what he said he would.
Maybe it would have been better if Muzaka had done something. M-21 would have expected it, he would know where he stood with Muzaka and know that it would happen again. Right now, he didn't know when Muzaka would lash out or what would set Muzaka off.
It took a while before M-21 calmed down, the rest of the house silent once he could hear it over his roaring heart and gasping breath. Neither Muzaka or Frankenstein banging on his door demanding an explanation for what he'd done.
They would ask later.
M-21 knew they would.
M-21 glowered when Muzaka's head popped out from above the balcony. "What did you say?"
"Come up here?" Muzaka said, still grinning.
He'd heard right. Fuck. If he refused, Muzaka would drag him up anyway. This had to be his punishment from earlier.
M-21 climbed up, Muzaka already on a perch that looked like it was made from a trunk rather than a branch, his wings flapping like only his claws were keeping him on the branch.
The perch itself was huge, with three trunks that had a bunch of criss-crossing different sections going higher and higher. That was just for Muzaka, or were there other harpies that M-21 hadn't seen yet?
M-21 could feel the drop reaching out towards him from behind and he moved closer to the centre of the roof, closer to the perch tree. He'd be fine if he fell from this height but there had been too many times he had been thrown from a roof for someone else's amusement.
"C'mon!" Muzaka said, hopping from foot to foot, his flapping getting even stronger. "Let's fly! The weather's great for it."
Was it? M-21 stared at him, not looking up at the sky, because what was the point?
Muzaka's smile dimmed. "You don't wanna?"
Through gritted teeth, M-21 said, "I can't." Why did Muzaka think M-21 had jumped up instead of flying? Hadn't Muzaka noticed M-21 hadn't flown a single time since they'd met?
Muzaka cocked his head to the side, chirping, and the sound made M-21's feathers fluff up again. Did Muzaka want him to explain? To say in detail just how weak he really was?
"Then I can teach ya."
"What's there to teach?" M-21 scoffed. "My wings are fucking broken." It was obvious just looking at him. They were so small in comparison to Muzaka's - they couldn't hold his weight.
Muzaka studied him, his feathers flicking up and down.
"You want Frankenstein to look at 'em then? He'd be able to figure out's going on."
He didn't want to be at the mercy of another scientist so soon, but M-21 didn't have a fucking choice here, did he? "Fine."
Frankenstein wouldn't be able to do anything about them anyway. The Union scientists hadn't, and they there the ones who knew his series the best.
M-21 had made a mistake. He shouldn't have admitted his weakness.
"Does this hurt?" Frankenstein barely moved M-21's wing.
"No."
Frankenstein was taking his time, being gentle, but that meant he was taking fucking forever to get through his examination. It was worse than getting preened by Muzaka - the power difference between M-21 and Muzaka was obvious, but Frankenstein was evaluating M-21, seeing every one of M-21's flaws. Everything that was wrong with him. Which was every part of him.
He was too aware of where Frankenstein's hands were, how close the scientist was.
"Hmm."
What did that mean? M-21s body was broken as Frankenstein expected or even worse? That M-21 was so weak that he wasn't any use to them?
"As far as I can tell," Frankenstein said, stepping back and around so M-21 could see him again, "there doesn't appear to be any malunions and while a little deconditioned, I didn't find anything wrong with your musculoskeletal structure that could be the reason for your inability to fly."
M-21 could see Muzaka nodding along while M-21 put together what Frankenstein said.
Weak. He was fucking weak. That was what Frankenstein was saying under all the scientist jargon.
"So I'm just too fucking stupid to know how to fly," M-21 said, gritting his teeth.
He couldn't even figure out something that could have come instinctively. He really was just trash.
Muzaka shared a look with Frankenstein. M-21 was right, hah.
"I'd say it's 'cause you never got the chance to," Muzaka said slowly, to make sure M-21 understood every word.
"Because I couldn't." Why the fuck weren't they getting it? Ever since M-21 could remember his time in the lab, he had never been able to fly.
Muzaka crossed his arms with a sigh. "Because your feathers were clipped."
What. "Like that'd make a fucking dif…"
Would clipping his feathers stop him from flying? "They'd never-"
The check ups. He'd hear the snips while they drew his blood but he hadn't paid it that much attention, mind furiously working out the best time to intercept the test results before the scientists saw them, ignoring the itching feeling across his skin as the scientists touched him.
"And once you think you can never fly," Frankenstein said quietly, "you stop trying altogether."
M-21 couldn't stop staring at them. That.... That couldn't be right. He didn't fly because he couldn't. Not because he thought he couldn't. There had been so many times he'd been thrown off a roof - his wings hadn't worked and he'd either had to catch himself on the wall or slammed into the ground, their laughter ringing in his ears.
"Whatever," he muttered instead. Frankenstein was a scientist - he was making it up as he went along. That's what they all did.
M-21 hunched on his bed, his wings curled around as much as they could reach around him. He'd never bothered to give them a proper look before - he hadn't had the time between missions, and why would he want to stare at the reminder of his weakness? The only time his wings were paid attention to was when M-24 cleaned the parts M-21 couldn't reach after a fight.
There were a couple of bald patches and M-21 studied them - they were on the wrong side to have been ripped out from a fight. Was he dropping feathers like M-24 had?
Frankenstein hadn't said anything about bald patches, only the clipped feathers. Wouldn't the bald patches be more important? Was his body breaking down again like before, but slower?
Frankenstein would have noticed. Should have noticed with the amount of time he'd spent studying M-21's wings, but M-21 knew how easily scientists could be distracted or focus on the wrong thing for months at a time before changing direction.
M-21 flapped his wings, feeling his feathers dragging against his bed. No. He couldn't fly. His wings weren't strong enough.
At the bottom of his wings, M-21 found a ragged line of feathers, clearly cut.
Wait.
His wings really had been clipped? Then... What did Muzaka's feathers look like in comparison? M-21 couldn't picture them other than Muzaka's wings were so much bigger and fuller than M-21's own.
Could he really not fly just because of his feathers and not because the rest of him was broken?
Was it that fucking easy to ground him?
Could he really fly?
M-21 stood out on the balcony, the night breeze ruffling his feathers, making him even more aware of them, and where they weren't.
He hadn't done anything except stand there and his heart had already picked up, making his skin thrum.
He'd done this before. At higher heights.
He still couldn't make himself take one step towards the balcony railing.
It wasn't going to work.
He couldn't fly.
He knew that. No matter what he'd done, he couldn't fly.
He would try and he would fail, and Muzaka and Frankenstein would laugh at him for believing such a stupid lie.
There had to be a camera around, recording him making an idiot of himself, for even trusting their words, for hoping
It wouldn't work.
M-21 span on his heel and walked back inside.
M-21 braced himself every time Muzaka brushed his fingers through M-21's feathers, expecting a yank or pulling at his wings. But Muzaka's touch stayed soft, like he was using the least amount of strength he needed to preen.
M-21 felt the difference when Muzaka reached the bald areas of his wings, and that somehow made M-21 feel more exposed that Muzaka could see them, even if nothing had changed. It was just more proof how weak M-21 really was, how much his body was breaking down.
Muzaka ran a finger over a bald spot and M-21 fought to not jerk his wing away from the touch, trying to hide it.
"Yer feathers are startin' to come out again - that's great!"
M-21 frowned. "They're growing back?" M-24's feathers never grew back... Was that another difference between them? Why M-21 had stopped needing the pills and why his body hadn't broken down as badly?
"Of course. Our feathers are always growing."
But they weren't. M-21 wouldn't have empty patches and M-24 wouldn't have been bald for so long if they did.
"Why do you think your wings had to be clipped so often?"
Why- Had they? M-21 and M-24 had needed so many check-ups when they first started taking outside missions. The scientists had said it was to make sure they'd adapted well to the outside, but...
M-21 could still hear the slice of scissors and the tug on his wings at those check-ups, but he'd never looked back at them, never asked what they were doing. They would have never explained anyway, muttering it was for the experimentation and testing.
Why had M-21 believed them? Why had he not questioned their words like he usually did?
"But-" Fuck it. Why should he ask? Muzaka had to be lying too, to get M-21 on his side.
"Yeah?"
Of course Muzaka heard him - there was no-one else in the living room to distract him, and Muzaka was right there at his back.
Ask and be lied to, or don't ask and Muzaka kept demanding an answer. Or M-21 could ask a different question instead. Except M-21's brain was just...tired, and wouldn't give him any alternatives.
"I forgot." It wasn't even a fucking lie. It was just harder to think now, especially when he was distracted by Muzaka's hands in his feathers.
"Well, when you remember, come ask me then!"
M-21 would rather pull all his feathers out than do that.
Muzaka chirped. It was a distraction and M-21 would take that instead of trying to make his brain work or keep going with the conversation.
M-21 chirped back, the notes flowing a bit better than last time. There. It sounded similar to what Muzaka had done.
Muzaka chirped again, twice as fast and twice as many notes.
...What the fuck was that?
M-21's feathers would grow back? He peered at his wings after Muzaka had let him go, trying to see what Muzaka had.
His wings looked the same as the last time he'd seen them. Muzaka must have been lying then, giving M-21 false hope.
M-21 ran his fingertips over a bald patch and then frowned, passing his fingers over again.
He hadn't touched his wings when he had checked them last time, but something in the patch was scratching back.
New feathers...?
M-21 pulled his wing closer, his nose almost touching skin, and at this distance, he could maybe see something poking out of his skin, right where the bumps were.
Where feathers should be.
Muzaka had been telling the truth about his feathers.
That didn't-
Did that mean he could really fly?
M-21 stood on the balcony, hearing cars passing by in the next street over.
It had already been a few days since his conversation with Muzaka. it had taken him so long, but he couldn't one step away from the wall.
He was only one floor off the ground - he'd climbed up skyscrapers with no problems.
Not with the intention to fly though. He'd been on rooftops because he'd had to for trade-offs or to get a better vantage point.
Last time, he'd gone to the roof because Muzaka had ordered him to. He'd had to do it.
Now that it was his own choice...
M-21 stared out at the balcony. It was two steps and then he would be at the railing.
Two steps.
That was all.
He took one step forward and - No. He wasn't going to do it.
It wasn't going to work. There was no point trying when he knew he was going to fail.
M-21 retreated back into the house.
He was a fucking coward. He couldn't get up onto the-
M-21 stopped short, seeing Muzaka in the corridor. Shit. Muzaka had seen all that and was going to mock him for failing, for being too scared to even reach the roof in the first place.
Muzaka grinned, all his teeth on display, stepping towards him.
Could he run? Pretend Muzaka's attention wasn't on him and just walk past? Except Muzaka was looking directly at him and M-21 couldn't look away.
Muzaka lifted a hand and M-21 braced himself for the hit.
"Great job!" He reached forward and patted M-21's shoulder.
M-21 stared at him. Why the fuck had Muzaka said that? "I didn't fucking do anything." The opposite, in fact. Why was he getting praise?
Muzaka's grin didn't change. "But you thought about it, an' you gave it a go."
M-21's feathers puffing out and he couldn't make them lie flat again. "And failed!" Had Muzaka missed that somehow? Had Muzaka thought M-21 was coming back from a flight? "I didn't even get to the roof." Because he was a fucking coward. "In the Union-"
"You're not in the Union here." Muzaka's grin was gone.
M-21 stared at Muzaka. He knew that. "But in the Union-"
"We're not the Union," Muzaka interrupted again, a slight sigh between his words.
Obviously. Why was Muzaka repeating himself? M-21 had heard him the first time.
"So we don't work the same as them."
M-21 was able to catch himself before he snorted. It was clearly a lie. All organisations operated the same way: only strength and being of use was valued. Trash cowards were disposed without a thought and replaced with a better batch of experiments.
Muzaka sighed before M-21 could say anything, patting his shoulder again. "You made a good start." He turned and left while M-21 stared after him.
What was the point in starting something if he couldn't finish it as well?
It didn't make sense. Muzaka and Frankenstein didn't make sense. The pair didn't act like what M-21 was used to, how he expected them to.
They were just lulling him into a false sense of security so they could laugh at him harder when he fell for it.
The Union scientists didn't keep it up for this long though.
And this wasn't apparently the Union.
That was just another lie. M-21 could picture their jeering faces already.
But he could also remember their stillness whenever they asked M-21 about what he thought was going to happen.
Their weird soft voices, said slowly as if - as if? They thought he couldn't understand? No, that couldn't be it. Then why did they speak like that sometimes?
M-21 tightened his arms around his knees, his wings wrapped around him.
They were good actors. That was all.
And he was falling for it.
That was why he didn't feel certain right now.
M-21 wanted to look anywhere but at Frankenstein, but that meant looking at the lab equipment instead or at whatever Frankenstein was preparing next for the check-up.
It had only been a few days since the last one and M-21 controlled his expression as Frankenstein picked up the needle and vials.
More blood tests.
Muzaka might have said he and Frankenstein were different from the Union, but this was proving M-21 was just a test subject to Frankenstein, something to gain more information from.
That was fine. This M-21 could understand compared to what Muzaka had tried to tell him.
Frankenstein was wanting more check-ups compared to what the Union scientists did. Why? To get more information about the experiments M-21 had gone through? M-21 was a traitor already so it didn't matter if he added giving away Union secrets to it - he would be killed anyway when the Union got their hands on him again.
Was Frankenstein keeping track of how much M-21's body was breaking down? Frankenstein would have said how long M-21 had left by now, which was probably why Frankenstein kept taking more tests.
Frankenstein had been talking while taking M-21's blood and he struggled to pay attention to it over his own thoughts. He had to know what Frankenstein was saying so he could react appropriately, but all scientists didn't say anything important during check-ups.
Still, M-21 had to figure out Frankenstein's habits and to do that, he had to pay attention at the right times.
"How are you feeling about your ability to fly now?"
He shouldn't have fucking brought it up with them, because now they knew and weren't going to fucking stop asking him about it.
Should he lie and pretend he'd already flown? But Frankenstein would ask Muzaka and find out the truth, and then M-21 would be in bigger trouble. Or Frankenstein would want him to prove it.
M-21 shrugged, his wings rustling. "I don't think I can fly yet." Give Frankenstein enough information to make Frankenstein think he was trying, not that M-21 couldn't do it at all.
"No, you won't be able to while your feathers are still growing back," Frankenstein mused, checking the blood was flowing smoothly into the vial, "but it shouldn't be too long now."
M-21 stopped himself from checking his wings again, watching Frankenstein writing something on one of the vials. A couple of feathers growing back wasn't going to make any difference. He couldn't do it, no matter what Muzaka and Frankenstein said. It wasn't because he 'believed' he couldn't fly - it was because he knew it.
"Would you like some guidance from myself or Muzaka before then?"
Fuck no. M-21 had spent more than enough time around them - he didn't want to ask them to assess him too.
How was Frankenstein meant to help him anyway? Frankenstein wasn't a harpy - he didn't know how to fly.
"I'll think about it," M-21 said, studying Frankenstein's reaction.
No narrowing of the eyes, no stilling, nothing to indicate Frankenstein was suspicious it was a delaying tactic. All Frankenstein did was nod as he removed the needle, pressing a cotton ball to M-21's skin.
They really didn't act anyone from the Union... If M-21 had tried the same shit in the Union, there would have been veiled threats and annoyance that he wasn't performing well enough, until they stopped asking because they knew what the answer would be.
Why didn't Muzaka or Frankenstein care he couldn't do it?
M-21 sat on the stool in his room, studying his wings again. He'd done that more times in the past month than the entire time he could remember in the Union.
He swept his right wing out, bringing his left wing down in front of him.
He'd used them in fights, had gained an advantage because he had more limbs than his opponent. He knew how to use them.
But were they strong enough to carry his weight? No.
He hissed, dropping his head as he rested his wings at his back.
Why did he keep thinking about it? He had never flown before and he wouldn't be able to do it just because Muzaka and Frankenstein said he could.
A laugh drew his attention outside his window, and he looked out, seeing a flash of silver. He knew what he would see, but he went over to have a better look anyway.
Muzaka was in the sky, his wings keeping him in the air with every powerful beat that M-21 could hear through the window.
His chest tightened at the sight, his lungs feeling like they were being squeezed and he couldn't take a proper breath in, but he couldn't look away either. Muzaka span in circles in a way M-21 had never seen before, and he felt his own wings tense like they were trying to do what Muzaka's were.
Idiot.
He couldn't do that. He knew that.
He didn't need to fly.
He'd done fine without it so far.
M-21's wings kept twitching like they were trying to mimic Muzaka's movements, ignoring his thoughts.
M-21 felt Muzaka's eyes on him in the kitchen after hearing him approach. Usually if they bumped into each other in the house, Muzaka would start a conversation about M-21's day. That had already happened.
So when Muzaka paused, watching him, it meant something else.
M-21 sighed. This was becoming a regular occurrence now that he was starting to predict it.
"Preening?" M-21 said.
Muzaka burst out into a grin. "Yeah! If you've got the time."
It wasn't like M-21 was doing anything else, or that he had a choice.
There were tea and snacks at the table this time as M-21 settled down on the cushion.
"Why do you want to do this?" M-21 muttered as he eyed the food. There were two cups of tea, next to their respective cushions, so one was definitely for him and there was an empty plate next it, probably to hold the snacks. "My feathers get tangled up again anyway." Which was why Muzaka had to start from the top again when they did this. What was the point wasting time when Muzaka could be doing other things instead?
"Showers feel good, yeah?" Muzaka started preening at M-21's head like he knew he would.
...That wasn't what M-21 asked, but he would go along with it. "Yeah." Especially the hot ones he could have here.
"You get dirty again afterwards, don't you?"
"...Yeah." It wasn't as bad here, because he had them so often now that he didn't have to cl - oh.
"If ya didn't have regular showers, all that dirt would collect on top of each other." Muzaka kept preening, already moving closer to M-21's wings, so much faster compared to the first time. "It's...maintenance. An' it helps keep up social bonds too."
M-21 snorted. Social bonds? "That's why you're doing this?" It wasn't just about sorting out his feathers? Why would Muzaka care about social bonds with him?
Why did every interaction with Muzaka or Frankenstein leave him scrambling to understand what the hell they were saying? Nothing they did made any sense.
M-21 heard Muzaka nod, his feathers rustling. "Strengthening and reinforcin' them, y'know?"
No, he didn't.
Muzaka's hands slowed. "You never did this in the Union?"
M-21's feathers fluffed up and he tried to get them back down. Why was it so easy for Muzaka to make him react? He'd been treated worse in the Union and he could control himself.
Because he was expecting it there.
He couldn't predict what Muzaka or Frankenstein would say here.
Of course he'd never done this in the Union. The M-series were too busy trying to survive the experiments, and trying to recover from them before the next round began. They sometimes barely had the energy to breathe, let alone focus on how dirty their feathers were or trying to 'strengthen bonds' when they didn't even know if they would survive another-
"Hey, you okay?" Muzaka's hands had stopped, ruffling M-21's head instead.
"'m fine," M-21 muttered, pushing Muzaka's hand away with a wing. He was being too distracted again, too obvious his mind was elsewhere. He kept slipping up now. Too often. In the Union, he would have made a bigger mistake if the scientists had noticed and he would have been killed already.
But this wasn't the Union. Apparently.
Muzaka surprisingly didn't follow up, going back to preening.
Not the Union. Muzaka wasn't supposed to act like he was in the Union. Because he wasn't.
Except they were lying. They had to be.
M-21's attention snapped back at a chirp and he exhaled, focusing on that instead of his circling thoughts.
He repeated back Muzaka's tune, the notes coming even easier than before, now that he knew what to do and had done it a few times.
...It didn't used to be so easy, but now it already was.
Muzaka chirped again, the song similar to before, just a bit longer.
M-21 took a deep breath to repeat it back but paused, narrowing his eyes.
"Is this something else to 'develop social bonds'?" He didn't hear a lot of songs in the Union, definitely not like what Muzaka did.
"Yep!" Muzaka chirped again, preening M-21's wings. "Flocks have their own songs that we use to recognise each other by."
Hah, M-21 could recognise Muzaka by sight - he didn't need a song to know that.
A song? That Muzaka was teaching him?
...Muzaka was treating him as his flock...?