driving

[ It happens in an instant: Billy feels the extra strength boost drain from his body, and any remaining tiredness leaves him, too.

He has time to breathe a sigh of relief. Is this finally over? Then he buckles over, arms hugging his torso in pain as he feels two lumps on his back grow and grow and grow until they burst out, two white wings (flecked red with blood) that are large enough to nearly touch opposite walls in the room when he spreads them out. Thank god he slept without a shirt or that would have been destroyed.

He heaves and braces himself, ready for more pain to come...but that seems to be the worst of it. What follows isn't more pain but an itch at the back of his mind, a need he needs to fill right now. He throws his own discarded clothes on the bed, and that's somewhat satisfying, but it's not enough.

He goes downstairs, his clumsy wings knocking up against the walls as he walks, and grabs the cushions and pillows from the couch. And the tablecloth and some napkins. Anything soft that he can find. It's something - seeing all that stuff piled up on the bed pleases him, but there's still something missing. He creeps into Steve's room and it's like a smorgasbord of choices: Harrington's got clothes piled up everywhere, and Billy happily scoops them up into his arms, taking them back to the guest room to add to his nest.

His wings bump up against the doorframe as he leaves and there's a bit of angry fluttering after as Billy tries to get the damn things under control. If that wakes Steve up, he'll notice that someone seems to have cleaned his room of all the discarded garments. Billy's not concerned with what Steve's reaction will be, now that he finally has a suitable nest to curl up in. Hopefully he doesn't want those clothes back any time soon. ]

Are you sure they can actually lift me?

[ Billy's been accidentally launched a few feet in the air a couple of times after getting his new wings just due to his inability to control them properly, especially when he was stressed out. He's not certain he trusts them to be able to carry him up to the sky and keep him there, though, and he doesn't want to go plummeting back to earth.

Jack seemed to be used to having wings so he was the one Billy looked to for advice. It was going to be like surfing lessons in reverse: Jack would look amazing and Billy would fall flat on his ass, but unless he wanted to be carrying two giant useless limbs on his back until this was over he had to learn to use his wings. ]

[ What was the harm in a little rain? That was what Billy thought when he went for a stroll, only to find that the wetter he got the harder it was to move, and now he's standing outside completely drenched, his body working against him in every possible way.

The rain has passed but he can't do much but squat and fan his heavy wings out, hoping that they'll dry up soon. Every time he tries to move he feels like his whole body is made of lead, sluggish and unresponsive.

There are people out here who have a beef with him. There are monsters that have a beef with everybody. His heart is pounding; he knows he's in a pretty awful place right now.

Maybe someone will come by and fetch a towel or a blanket to help him get moving again. Or maybe he won't be so lucky. ]

[ooc; open to injury for this prompt if your character would be hostile, but not death.]

[ Billy's a show-off.

As soon as he learns to fly and maneuver himself around he's doing it everywhere, like some weird bird version of parkour. He's taken to flying immediately, so much so that he's going to miss his wings when they're gone. He almost dreads the end of all this nonsense, because it means no more flight.

The only thing that he really doesn't like is that he can't get the wings into his car, but though that would start to grate on him eventually he can enjoy his newfound freedom for the time being. He's flying onto trees and buildings and landing on benches and lampposts and other people's cars, seeing how short he can make his running start before he takes off, or how far he can glide from various distances.

If asked, he'd call it exercise and keeping in shape, but he's enjoying it. Only the occasional rumble of his stomach reminds him that this situation is not ideal. ]

[ Feel free to hit me with anything! If you want to plot, you can ping me at dandymott or Velocett#7191 on Discord! ]