Chiro didn't move for a while when he was left alone. He had done bad. Said bad. He didn't say the right thing. That was the worst sensation he could feel, that sensation of letting someone down, or making them sad or angry without even meaning to do so. He sighed shakily, bringing his wings up and getting back to work. He could make it up to Malachy, the fae whose house he was invading and who he was bothering.

He coaxed a few orbs close and bent over his work again. Sewing the patterns in a little at a time, making sure it was all as flawless as possible. He had to make it amazing. Had to make sure it was as good as ever. The best, perhaps. In the middle he placed a sun. That sun shone against all the warm, rustic tones tempered with green. And he trimmed it with gold he found alongside the satin rolls. It wasn't perfect, not to him. It could have been so much better but he couldn't make it better now. Folding it in half, he scooped up and walked from the room, searching for Malachy. His last stop was the fae's bedroom. "M... Malachy...?" He stepped through the vines fluidly. "I... am sorry... I just... I wanted to finish this for you." He grasped the corners and brought it out, showing him the more colorful side. "It's not... that great. I... hope you understand." It took all his willpower not to hide behind the blanket itself.

Chiro managed a real smile, but it was halfhearted. He brought the blanket around Malachy and put it over his shoulders. "I'm sorry... I might have made it sound like I didn't... want your help... I just wanted this to be a surprise for you. Something to take the place of that old piece of cloth you had before. Something... warmer if you needed it... And fitting who you are. I just didn't want you to see before... I was done. I didn't want a... want it to be ruined. I do want your help... But I hope I can repay that help. I want to help you... too." He blinked hard, chasing away the burning sensation of tears.

"And, erm... about your wings. I can take care of them any time you like. Usually once a day is... best. But some prefer multiple times per day." He shifted a little, bringing the blanket around to the bed and lying it on the soft petals. It swayed lightly with the motion, and with that done, Chiro glanced back. He didn't want to make Malachy cry again. That was harder to endure than his years alone. All he wanted to do was make it okay any way he knew how.

Chiro smiled, sitting alongside Malachy as his wings opened. Such beautiful wings, and nearly transparent. "It's okay, Malachy... My restoration magic doesn't require quite as much effort as anything stronger. Just let me move your wings so your effort to do so doesn't retract any effects I put into place..." He knelt as lightly as he could, bringing his fingers lightly over the thin membranes. The runes along his palms and fingers began glowing, and that glow was slowly transferred to Malachy's wings. A light, glistening dust was called into being, and laid over the wings gently. He gathered one wing into his hands and pulled them down, massaging the dust and magic into the wing and between each layer, pulling down and not up, or left or right in risk of bending them the wrong way. It seemed they held similar concepts to his own wings, when they were at their prime, only a different color and a different size, and with the transparency of thin ice.

Then he went to work on the other, massaging dust and a special, light healing magic into the veins and membranes and between. The wings themselves felt like healthy leaves, though as the dust coated them, they took on a damp, shimmering color and tone. "Tell me if I hurt you at any time." He muttered, leaning down a little to eye his work. It was doing well, the dust reaching as much as it could, to the skin. On skin, however, it simply slid off.

Chiro shook his hands, feeling as if dust still clung to them, when he finished the treatment. "Well... I think that's a good thing." He said, tilting his head. Malachy's wings seemed so completely sensitive, as if the simplest of touch could send him a very strong reaction. He sat back on his legs, brushing Malachy's hair aside. "I hope you're okay." He said. "Today's treatment is done... The dust will stay on your wings for a long time, but new coats will have to be added until they start to make their own. The dust sparkles in the sunlight, but is kind of like a... an armor. It will protect against natural rips or tears, and make the membranes much more versatile. That way it'll let you catch more air, and fly faster."

He smiled. Flying faster. He did miss flying, but now, he could watch Malachy fly. And he was so light, he had to do so effortlessly. Perhaps the special coating on his wings would be an envy to his friends.

"Malachy..." Chiro slid off the hanging bed and stood. "When do you think is the best time for me to... meet others?" He stared at the ceiling of the rose, where the top petals came to rest in an overlap. He did want to see the sky. He wanted to try to meet others now. Let them understand what he could do, what his kind could do, their rise and fall and, perhaps, help others avoid that.

"Of course." Chiro spoke before he could think, and he almost regretted that. "Ah, well... I don't mind at all. Just... one at a time. One person at a time. I don't want to lose my nerve." Meeting more than two others with Malachy would probably be an overload to his senses. He desperately wanted to be able to walk the city effortlessly and with the ability to see others and acknowledge them, perhaps even talk to them, without worrying or feeling self-conscious about his wings. What would they think? What would anyone else think? He just wanted to let them know... wanted to feel as if the world were right again.

"Tomorrow would be... perfect." It would give him time to settle. To come to terms with the fact that soon, he would be meeting someone new. And different. But he would be meeting someone that, at the same time, was very understanding. He flicked his wings, folding them over. "I look forward to it." He admitted, and it was mostly true. "Perhaps... Well, for now I would just like to be... alone. I should make some clothes." He glanced down at himself, his shoeless feet and ragged pants, yet again. And that would give Malachy some time with his friends.

Chiro smiled, offering a bit of strength. He had to be strong. Mentally. He couldn't break down and scurry off like he would want to. These fae weren't like the merchants and hunters of other races. They were like Malachy, no doubt about that. And one was Malachy's friend. No doubt he had many, but one especially that wanted to see him. Speak with him. What could he make to wear? He thought about it. Nothing like what Malachy wore---he didn't know the patterns. He could recreate some of his old clothes. Perhaps they were a bit outdated, the style, the color, but he was, after all, an authentic being from thousands of years ago. Why wouldn't he make his own clothes to wear?

He glanced around, pulled from his thoughts at Malachy's sudden cough. "Are you okay...?" He asked, suddenly concerned. "Oh, I hope you didn't get anything on the way back... Maybe you should have flown back... I could have followed your scent..." If Malachy had caught something because of him, because of Chiro's inability to fly... He didn't like to think about that. But obviously Malachy's kind had advanced through the centuries, through the time they had come to exist. They probably had many medicines.

Chiro pursed his lips, and nodded. "Okay... Okay, if that's all... I'll go make some clothes so I look... presentable. I don't mind if you come along, too... or, I mean, go with your friends, and catch up... I guess I took a lot of you from them already..." He laughed a bit nervously, standing and stretching and moving away. He was already planning things to make. One outfit first. Something to wear while he worked on other clothing. Entering the room that had been given to him, he pulled a few light orbs, sewing supplies and fabrics into the bed he had created, and folded his wings securely to begin work.

He would use blue and... silvery tones. He did love water and air, and both colors invoked the sense of calm a sea and warm breeze could bring in. It would be a shirt with a deep neck that would be able to be laced and unlaced easily. The sleeves would balloon out and then begin to hug the arms as they reached the wrists, and be able to be tightened through silver ties strung through. Then his pants. Slightly long. They would be tight against his waist, a little high so the shirt would tuck into the waist, and the bottoms would be tight around the ankles. He could consider shoes, but they wouldn't do well to protect his feet. Though they didn't need protection unless he were to walk in a cold climate. He decided to put some cloth ones together anyway, ignoring the way he yawned every few minutes.

His needle and thread worked for a long time. He didn't feel it when it stabbed his fingers, and checked to see if it would bleed before going on. The colors blended well. It would be beautiful, hopefully, if he did it well. It had to be done well. The way he remembered it. The orbs cast eased light on his work, and he looked up only when his neck was aching and a pain was beginning to shoot up and down his spine. Chiro uncurled himself from the bed and cast out the shreds and threads that were unused and looked around. There was no light coming from outside in any manner. Folding the clothes, he gathered up the scraps and put them on a shelf nearby, feeling he would dispose of those later. He put everything back in its place, pulling his clothes into his bed and using them as a pillow as his heavy eyelids closed and sleep took him over.


He wasn't sure if it was morning. Things were still rather dark---perhaps he had slept all day and to the next evening, but he doubted it. Chiro slid out of his bed, stretching his arms, legs, and wings, and pulled his newly-made clothing on. From the air he took moisture and created a mirror-like ice plate as he had before, using nearby orbs to light the area around him. The clothing fit his person well, as he had retained his size long, long ago from his many nights creating more clothing for his ever-diminishing wardrobe. His sleeves were tight around the wrists and up to the elbow, where they ballooned out. He tightened the laces around his neck, and dusted himself off. He felt odd His wings were free, out of their built-in slits at the back, and they cloaked him from behind. Chiro shook his head, waving the glassy ice back into the air and pacing in his soft cloth shoes.

What would they think of him? Would they think him weird? Unusual? Unnatural, even? Perhaps old... An old man. He wasn't old---in fact, by his race's standards he was still very young and inexperienced. He was merely an apprentice to his elders, like his companion, that had hardly begun to unlock the secrets the oldest among them had locked away. What would they think of him? That question came up again, and again, it kept repeating as he paced until a voice startled him.

Chiro gasped, turning to face Malachy. "Ah! I am...! Yes... I... finished some clothes..." He brought out his hands, spreading his wings behind him, tattered though they were. "Do you like it...?" It was nothing like what Malachy wore. And his kind had to wear similar clothing to one another. "I... just... put some together... worked... half the night, I guess... It's not that good, for what little time I had to get it done." He sighed, looking down at himself.

Chiro put his wings down, wringing his hands slightly. "Well, erm, it's not very detailed... I could make better clothes with... just more time." He giggled rather nervously, brushing his hands down his shirt. He knew he shouldn't be worried---any friend of Malachy was a good fae, a good person, because the young fae trusted them. No doubt Oren would be a friendly, calm face. He nodded, though, lowering his hands in a slightly calmer manner. "Okay... I mean, I'd like to see outside... maybe a little more..." He stepped forward, looking back at Malachy before going on and down to the fold that acted as an entrance and exit. Against his better judgment, Chiro poked his head out first and foremost, brushing back his hair as it fell into his face. The sun was up, but he didn't see anyone around.

Sliding out, he folded his wings behind him tightly and crept down to the ground from the petals. The ground was soft, and the fresh, clear air was heavy with floral scents. "Beautiful..." He muttered. "I can't believe I... missed out on this for so... so long." He didn't know who he was talking to, if Malachy had even followed.

His footsteps were very light, preferring not to make a sound as he moved about the few steps away he allowed himself. He didn't know this crystal city full of giant flowers well. If he got lost, then he'd have no idea where to find Malachy or his pink rose again, perhaps until much later. He startled slightly when Malachy grasped his hand, but settled immediately. "I suppose so." He said quietly. "I couldn't imagine..." Being blind? Never. Devoid of senses? He would have died long ago.

Around the flower, the scent of growing fruits met his nose, and widened his dark eyes. He brought his hand out of Malachy's and nodded. The trees were large, their lowest branches rather high. However, beautiful, he started forward, pausing at the base of the tree, then backing away. He had dealt with trees like this before without magic. Taking a running leap, he clambered up the rough trunk and grabbed the lowest branch, swinging himself up and onto the sturdy one, and grasping a dark red orb and pulling it free. From his position, sitting on the lower branch, he could see giant flowers dotting the landscape, and crystal buildings. "It's beautiful." He called down, digging his nails into the fruit and drawing a deep breath in.

Chiro slightly untied the lacing up to his neck, freeing the fabric a bit so it let him breathe. It was odd wearing a shirt again after so long going with no more than a ragged pair of pants he kept in check. And the shoes that kept his feet from view. He was glad when Malachy lighted beside him, and bit into the odd fruit. It was soft, like a pear, but tasted more like an apple or a peach, or perhaps both. "It is." He reiterated, nodding slowly and staring at everything. "And I've missed it all for... I'm sure over a thousand years... Maybe more... So amazing..."

He glanced toward Malachy. "So... when will I meet your friend...? And... what do you think he'll... think of me?" Perhaps that was his biggest worry. That he'd be rejected. Maybe beyond worry, but complete fear---terror. He didn't want to be rejected by anyone, but especially not Malachy. His first friend in too many centuries to count.

Chiro emptied his hands and glanced toward the younger fae. "I do trust you." He said. "Whatever you say is the truth as far as I'm concerned..." He grasped Malachy's hand and ran his own fingers down the young fae's soft palm, studying the small lines in the skin and tracing them absentmindedly. He was, against his developed instinct, somewhat excited to meet another fae. How colorful would he be? What would his wings look like? Would they have a different pattern? Would his eyes shine like gems the way Malachy's did, or were the bright pink orbs unique to this bright, sweet fae? He had so many questions, but he was sure Malachy's friend, Oren, would have more. Chiro offered a rather faulty, though confident, smile. "I'm glad to be here." He admitted. "Glad you didn't let me stay in that old... ghost city." If he were there now, he would probably have convinced himself to start toward the peak of the mountain. Or he would have gone to the lowest quarter and, perhaps, lost himself.