Blossom Bower — [Open - AW] Familar Enough Habits

"Is it the sunlight itself or something in it?" Larkspur inquired, tilting their head in consideration. They'd like to pay the hyena back for his assistance with her garden, for being willing to look after it while she searches for Snapdragon - however long it would take to find it or be forced to declare their sibling gone - and if it ended up being that the wing-salve did indeed help with the soreness and the itch associated with molting, then for introducing the concept to them as well. "If it's direct contact with sunlight and skin rather than the light itself, perhaps we can assemble some sort of... clear covering. It would be less comfortable than bare fur but it allow you into sunlight again." Seeing that the salve had been evenly applied, the inflamed spaces now hopefully dying down, Larkspur turned to handle her own feathered problems. Folke seemed to know intuitively, slithering back down to the ground as the chocolate furred wolf spread her wings. It wasn't often she stretched them to their fullest length when she wasn't flying, but preening was an incredibly long process that often found her with cramps and painful twinges from holding them in a somewhat awkward position as she reached for the short, sensitive feathers closest to her spine, where they would begin to intermingle with her fur. "Now watch closely," she said, ostensible speaking to Folke but the giant behind her had seemed interested. She didn't want him to think she was just howling up his tail about how tedious feather-work was. "I have to do a full session like this at least twice a moon's cycle so if you're going to stick around, it's for the best that you know." | | | | "Thank you for your assistance dear giant," Larkspur said, motioning between their size difference with good humor. She used her tiniest, front teeth to grasp another of her feathers very gently. This one was flush and properly shaped, healthy and not yet ready to fall out - so she kept her jaw loose as she used her teeth to comb over the slightly dirtied plumage. She turned, neck aching slightly as she rubbed her muzzle through the natural oil-glands at the base of her wings and turned back to spread it across the feathers. Next she ducked her head, dipping her muzzle in the oil concoction created by the hyena and went over the feather carefully. She groaned a little from the soreness, stretching out her forelegs in the dying light of the day. Gods, she really did end up wasting the rest of the sunlight preening didn't she? At least it seemed the salve was working - most of the itching she associated with her pre-molt was starting to fade away, though she noted that her feathers felt... heavier. They moved less smoothly. She ruffled them experimentally - they were still functional, just softer. Her plumage had likely absorbed the foreign oil, adding a bit more weight than she was expecting. It wasn't a bad feeling, just different - she'd have to lessen the amount of extract she used next time. If she based it more heavily in water, it would dry quicker and likely weigh more normally against her back. "That wood would have been miserable to move - heavy lifting isn't something I'd name my strong suit." You could either, she'd learned be clever and flight-worthy or clever and powerful. And really, what's even the point of having wings if not to use them? --- Text. Speech. Thoughts.