Of Scales and Feathers

"Alright. So how does this work?" Spike asked nervously, not sure where to place his hands while idle. He settled upon leaving them at the base of either one of Gilda's wings, with his fingers lightly rapping against them every few seconds. Having been alerted to just how unusual and intimate this experience was about to be, he couldn't help but fidget a little as he sat in the warm waters.

"There's no telling how much dust and dirt is trapped in my feathers, what with me slamming right into the ground with one of them." Gilda explained as she tried to stall the awkward experience as long as possible. Maybe, by some miracle, her wings might magically clean themselves or a rescue party would emerge. When no such thing came, she continued, "I just need you to use your claws to sift the filth out of 'em."

"I'm guessing that doesn't mean I just run my hands down your wing," Spike half-heartedly joked. There was no masking the audible shaking in his voice, and the nervousness he felt was palpable. It left a sour taste in his mouth and he might laugh if he wasn't inexplicably afraid. "I'll admit that I'm a little worried about hurting your wing further."

"As long as you don't go tugging on it or my feathers I should be pretty fine. At least in the pain department," she reassured him, a heat rushing to her face as she recalled the mixture of emotions that preening might bring about. It'd take a good bit of self-control just to stay calm, she knew that much. "But that's about what it comes down to. Lean in close and look at my feathers, then run a claw through it to pick out junk. Simple stuff."

And by simple, she meant painstakingly complex and intricate. The slightest error could possibly lead to a major error and that could lead to major pain. And the slightest twitch at the wrong (or right, depending on who you ask) time can lead to certain emotions that Gilda dared not think in great detail, lest she let loose a thought that could make things rather troublesome. "Just be careful and we won't have any issues. I trust in you," she tried to reassure him, though she wasn't sure if her own shaking breath dissuaded him of that notion.

"I planned on it, don't worry. And thank you," Spike said earnestly, grateful for the duty he was assigned. He could only assume that this was something vital to any creature with feathers from the way Rainbow Dash had described it aloud one day at a picnic between she and Twilight.

With the conversation bled dry and an awkward silence hanging between the two, the young dragon set to work. Doing as Gilda instructed, Spike leaned in to get a better look at the feathers he'd be tending to. He started with her uninjured wing, favoring the healthiness as a way to get a feel for how things should be before he moved onto the more difficult wing. When she said this would be simple, he realized she was being very modest.

Every feather had a unique look to it upon closer inspection, and he could see Gilda shifting them with the faint breeze that enveloped them within the steaming pool beneath them. Each moved with its own purpose, but they all flowed with a single goal or objective which was set by the gryphoness herself. He had never studied wings before, at least not on such a personal level, and found himself grinning as he stared at one particular feather.

"Everything okay back there?" Gilda called over her shoulder, peering curiously at Spike as he leaned over her back and watched her wing intently. She peered away from the sight after a brief moment, her mind already swarming with images set upon from the close proximity of her traveling companion.

"Oh! Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Was just trying to get a feel for what I'm dealing with here," he explained with a soft laugh before picking his hands up off of her back and shifting himself to get into a better position. "Hey, uh, Gilda? You mind sitting up so I can reach your wing better? As it stands I'd have to sorta lay on your back and that might get a little uncomfortable for us both."

Complying without a word, the gryphoness sat up with no more than a very faint grunt of exertion that came with moving from a comfortable position. It wasn't long at all before she took a proud stance, water glistening off of her coat and feathers, and Spike watched as her eyes stared ever-vigilantly forward towards the trees. She had an unreadable expression, but she didn't look upset in the slightest. "Better?" she asked without looking back.

"Yeah. Thanks," he replied quickly, reaching up for the feather he had been examining earlier. He had his claws in position, his breath held, and his eyes sharp for any irregularities. As he searched, feather by feather, he wondered if she had cleaned herself somehow on the way here. Her feathers looked pristine to him, and he wondered if he was perhaps missing something. But then he saw it. A feather that was a light shade of brown, covered in dust and grime, just as she had said.

Carefully, he brought a claw up to it and lightly sifted through the feather as slowly and as gently as he could manage. A sharp, quick sound hit the air and Spike's head twitched up in a knee-jerk response, scanning the area around them for some unseen predator. When he heard the muffled, soft sound of wind escaping nostrils, he realized what had happened. Testing it out, he paused before going to work on another one of Gilda's feathers and sure enough, the same sound rang out.

With each feather he worked, Gilda made a small, nearly inaudible gasp through her nose. Over time, with more and more feathers preened by his hand, she relaxed and even leaned back towards Spike a bit. Her eyes were shut and her fur was standing up slightly, and he would have suspected her of getting upset had it not been for the calm, shallow breaths she was letting out through her nostrils.

Unbeknownst to him, Spike had also leaned a bit closer. He felt strangely comfortable doing so, and didn't feel like pulling back even when he realized what he had done. Over the course of an hour which felt like mere minutes, Spike had finished working with one wing. He had learned the ins and outs of the activity and felt rather confident in his ability. It was just like giving a massage - albeit, this was to a gryphoness who was seeming very pleased with his work.

He took a moment to lean back and observe his work, which gave Gilda just enough time to let out the breath she had been holding for the past minute or so. Her claws had dug into the soil beneath the water and she felt her skin crawling with a need to move or at least be touched upon. She resisted a very strong urge to forego the preening and just lean back into Spike completely, but only barely. It was getting harder and harder with each feather, and he had an entire wing's worth of feathers to go. And these would undoubtedly be filthy, so it would require a much more personal touch.

Spike, however, was not so eager to get started on her other wing. He wanted to take in the sight before him; the contrast between Gilda's broken wing and her pristine one was astounding. The middle ground between the two wings was Gilda herself, and Spike was surprised to find how pleasant she looked as the water sparkled against her hide. Her calm expression and proud stance had slumped only slightly as she became more and more comfortable, and he found himself thinking about how attractive she was in the moment. He wanted to reach out and hold her, an urge that hadn't come to him for quite some time, but knew that might not be a very welcome idea to the reserved gryphoness.

Eventually though, both parties calmed down - Spike moreso than Gilda, who was busy running scenarios through her head - and the young dragon went back to his work. Leaning back in towards the gryphoness before him, he took note of the state of her broken limb. It was a little sickening to look at, and required a bit more urgent a care than he could provide her, but his splint seemed to have help a little bit. She at least didn't wince back from pain when he laid his hand gently upon it. All that sounded from her was a startled gasp at the sudden touch, but no more came from it.

He smiled at the rate at which she was recovering and wondered if he should attribute that to her natural regenerative genetics that all gryphons held or if it was more a product of her trade; he imagined that mercenary work could prove useful to strengthen the body under great stress and pain.

He made a mental note to ask her after this was over as he took a closer look at the first feather. His assumption was correct; it was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. How so much gunk could get trapped in one wing was beyond him, but that didn't stop him from going about his task. What slowed him down, however, was the reaction he got from Gilda.

Her eyes shot open and she nearly bashed her head into Spike's as she sat up in attention, taking in a sharp breath through her beak. She sat incredibly still as she knew without a doubt that Spike would be concerned, but fortunately no question came. She could feel his eyes boring through the back of her head but made no motion to reassure him or even look at him - she wouldn't be able to speak properly anyway. Instead, she clamped her beak down and held her tongue as she steeled her nerves.

Soon enough, another feather was cleaned. And then another. And another. Just like before, each cleaning brought with it a mixture of relief and a buzzing pleasure that rang up through the gryphoness' spine. She was clutching at the ground now and had she been on land she might have had a substantial hole dug beneath her. Fortunately for her, the water moved mud back into the craters she was making just as quickly as she could make them. She held her footing and withstood the assault of emotions washing over her.

If he said he wasn't enjoying the reactions he got out of Gilda, Spike would be lying. He was barely suppressing a grin from breaking out across his face with each twitch and shift that he caused with his careful tending to her feathers. It was taking more control than he expected to move back to a normal massage, as his instincts provided him with the urge to.

A subtle pressure was felt to his left and when he peered down into the water Spike realized that something had been muddying up the waters. While he didn't know how it had happened, he still felt a little wary of the slithering feeling against his leg. He began to panic slightly, but curiosity took over when he saw the tip of a furry tail poking out of the water. He let out a soft chuckle and watched as it moved its way about, as if searching for something. His grin faded into a contemplative expression as he pursed his lips and watched her tail move about as if of its own volition.

He realized what she was doing and made an attempt to rationalize it as he looked on, but realized he had turned from his task at hand and tried to ignore the potentially awkward situation. Sure enough, as he went back to his job of preening feathers and cleaning wings, he felt a gentle tapping at the base of his tail. He didn't intend to, but he let out a sharp gasp out of slight shock from the gesture. The gryphoness made no attempt to move if she was shocked, but Spike did notice she was leaning her head back ever so slightly.

Doing the only thing he could think to do and let instinct take over as his tail relaxed and followed the same pattern he had taken before. At a crawling speed, their tails intertwined against one another and formed a spiraling hold against each other. With the knowledge of what this actually meant, the notion that this was well-beyond intimate was not lost upon the dragon. He felt his body heat up and his hands begin to tremble, but made no motion to stop. If this is how Gilda intended to do things, he wasn't going to be one to judge.

He also couldn't deny that knowing exactly what the whole "tail-hugging" thing meant made the gesture seem rather.. Sacred. Like he was being allowed to do something that few would ever come to know in their lives. Sure, many creatures may have met a gryphon in such a way, but nobody - or at least few others - could lay claim to having done so with the gryphoness named Gilda.

His hands had gone idle and his mind had gone blank, but it didn't quite matter at the moment to either party. All that mattered was the rising sensation that this was important and the joy that Spike was beginning to feel. Some piece of the puzzle known as life was falling into place; he could feel it like he felt the fire in his chest. No, the preening could wait. This meant more.

As if she had read his thoughts and agreed, Gilda opened her eyes once more and let out an airy laugh that caught Spike off-guard. It was a mixture between a sweet sound and a playful melody, and it drove him into a bout of his own laughter. All he could do was get closer, and this is what he chose to do. Wrapping his arms around Gilda, she pressed back into him with equal force and nuzzled the back of his neck. Their tails were playing some sort of tug-of-war behind them, wrestling for dominance in a useless struggle that had no victor or loser, as if moving with a mind of their own.

Smiles and glances were exchanged between the gryphoness and her newly-acquired friend - or could he be considered a mate at this point? - before a final gesture brought out a finality to the whole situation. Spike's long, prehensile tongue lolled out and licked at the base of Gilda's neck and -

CRACK.

That was when fear took over. Spike's tongue shot back into his mouth, the fresh taste of sweat and feathers still upon his tongue like a bitter candy. He and Gilda shared the expression, untangling their tails in unison and pushing off from one another. The gesture was too quick and it caused Gilda to wince in pain as she stood in the water. A fight now, here? It'd be suicide. She had to get out of the water, where she might have a better advantage.

To her back rose the dragon, in full-force, his eyes already alert and searching for some unknown enemy ready to try and pick a fight that he had no intention of losing. They had come too far and done too much to fail now. If they wanted a fight, they'd have to-

"What is this I see? Two homesick lovebirds, fallen from their tree?" came a familiar voice with a familiar speech pattern. What had begun as fear slowly melted into relief and joy as Spike realized just who it was that had interrupted what might have been a very pleasant experience. He pushed the thought aside and turned to Gilda to confirm she heard what he had.

The fact that she was running, or rather struggling, her way through the waters towards the voice gave him all the confirmation he needed. He sloshed his way through the waters and laughed as he called out, "Never before has a rhyme been more welcome."

He shook his head and smiled as a hooded figure emerged from behind a nearby tree. About how long had she been there, he wondered? No matter; she was here. Everything was okay. It'd all be alright soon. Soon he could sleep, and get something to eat, and Gilda could get some medical attention, and maybe..

Maybe they'd talk about what just happened. Maybe things would be better than alright. Had he been this tired all along? When was the last time that he slept? Maybe he could get Twilight to get the girls together and-

He yawned, rubbed at his eyes, and felt a faint falling sensation as he rushed face-first towards the dirt below. He reached out to catch himself in panic, but felt something soft reach his hands first. "Not this time," came a whisper from Gilda. "Your turn to get carried."

Her face was visibly contorted from the pain of having moved her wing underneath Spike, but she didn't budge in the slightest. Shakingly he stood to his feet and stubbornly stepped over to Gilda's good side before collapsing to lean against her once again. "Not a chance. We're both.. We're gonna walk into Ponyville together. You and me. And Zecora. Just need to get home," he mumbled through his exhaustion. All of his adrenalin was fading fast and he realized just how far he had pushed himself. He wondered if he looked as bad as he felt, but didn't care. A smile came to his face when he realized what had happened.

"I'd settle for a hut in the woods right about now," Gilda half-joked. "Zecora, are we far from your house? I have no clue how far or in what direction we traveled from the start. Something weird happened."

" 'Tis not a long journey, just follow me. Shelter and comfort await you, just wait and see," she said with a nod before turning away and moving towards the direction she had emerged from. This was the final stretch of their journey, Spike could tell. Through his sleep-deprived mind he could be certain of only two things: he and Gilda had a very personal moment, and that he could rest easy now. Beyond that, his only desire was for sleep.

But he wouldn't mind sharing a room once more. As the crunching of leaves and twigs filled the air around him, he began to make out faint landmarks that he had seen in his previous travels through here with Twilight. But if these were the same landmarks, how did they not find them on their way into the forest? And how did Zecora find them?

Nothing made sense to him right now but he didn't care. Leave the questions for later. "Hey, Gilda," he said softly, glancing over to her. She returned his glance with joyful eyes and he found himself thinking back to the first time he had seen the emotion in her eyes. The expression had changed from sorrow to something.. More. Something better.

He flicked his tongue out, licking her beak very briefly in an unspoken gesture of affection that he understood was a bond between them, sealed in only a matter of days or nights - it had felt like weeks. She looked forward for a moment before breaking into a wide grin and saying, "Right back at'cha, Scales."

With that, Spike broke into a silent grin and focused on the journey home. Soon he could make good on his promise to Gilda and to himself.

And soon he could rest.