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Parrot is smart enough to notice when someone else is worried.
It's not warranted—Parrot is perfectly healthy. His wings aren't in the best shape, but they never are. In all aspects that Theo should be worrying about, Parrot is completely fine.
He's completely, and utterly, okay.
It's just January 21st.
It shouldn't be a big day—he's not even sure why the date matters to him anymore. It's not even the correct date, technically. But he'd been dreading it for days, and Theo had picked up on it.
Verdaria went wonderfully. They had gotten the loot out to the citizens of Capital City. Theo and him were getting closer every day, and while Parrot didn't trust him completely yet, he was getting there. He knew they had differing views, but Theo seemed content to do this with him for now.
He should be celebrating with the townspeople. Or even just relaxing in his room after a long journey like that.
Instead, it's winter, and Parrot is sitting outside, letting the wind ruffle his unkempt feathers.
Parrot shakily exhales—seeing his warm breath hit the cold air. Theo was probably still asleep inside. It was early dawn—barely even dawn at all. It was a stretch to call it sunrise. His wings pressed closer to his back, like it'd help him conserve heat somehow. Distantly, he thinks he probably should've brought a coat—but he wasn't really thinking about that.
Parrot was far away—letting the small snowflakes hit his skin and melt on impact, and not flinching away. It burned, a little, the temperature difference—but his chest felt a lot worse. Maybe he was sick.
He wanted to say he was sick.
But his mind just kept wandering back to that cabin, and Parrot hated calling it grief. He was far past the denial stage—again, it shouldn't be stages, it's not grief—but calling it that made it feel real. Made it feel like Wifies deserved it. Made Parrot miss him.
Who is he kidding? Of course he misses him.
He doesn't miss the Director. Obviously. But this isn't the day the Director died, anyway.
This is when Wifies died.
Wifies, who laughed when Parrot got stubborn. Wifies, who fanned Parrot's flame, who gave him the strength to keep going. Wifies, who told him to show mercy, to choose what felt like himself. Wifies, who dragged him out of the jungle and into a life he wanted to live, no matter the consequence. Wifies, who wore Parrot's bright cyan hair in his, even though the colors clashed horribly—because it meant they had overcome something. Wifies, who trusted Parrot when Parrot promised they'd get out of Proton. Wifies, who messed up horribly and in his last days, still decided to trust Parrot, over and over and over. Wifies, next to a glowing beacon, a beautiful, beautiful smile on his face as he turns to Parrot. Wifies, painted in golds and whites, whispering of hope and love and dreams.
Parrot looked at the snow and he couldn't help but repeat his name like a mantra in his head. And at some point, it wasn't a soft whisper of Wifies, Wifies, Wifies anymore — but a sob, a vow, a prayer. My best friend. My best friend. My best friend, who trusted me over and over. My best friend, who was kind to every single person, who kept hoping. Who kept hoping. My best friend, who's dead in the void and isn't coming back. My best friend, remembered as the Wifies he used to be, remembered as the Wifies who cared for and was kind to everyone, the Wifies who gave him the—
Parrot's breath hitched, and his talons dug into his arms. He swallowed harshly, and slid off the small fence he had been sitting on—slamming open the door to their potion shop and moving without thinking. (When did he memorize the layout? When did the layout of this place become more familiar than that cabin in the middle of nowhere? When did this become instinct and when did he start forgetting the exact shade of purple Wifies wore—) His wings fluttered sharply behind him, probably knocking over a few potion bottles—but the world was distant to him right now. He just kept thinking about obsidian walls, honey bottles, hope in the middle of nothing nothing nothing, beacons and dreams and his best friend, all one in the same—and if glass shattered behind him as he scaled the ladder, he wasn't listening. He didn't know if Theo would wake up, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.
He wanted to go when he wasn't panicking. He wanted to come back in a clean state of mind, and find the right words for when he got to the cabin, and he wouldn't. Instead, he rummaged through chests—finally landing on the spot where Theo kept his elytra—and clasped it to his own back, the soft hum of magic expanding and making a false illusion of longer, stronger, cleaner feathers. He wasn't sure if he left through the window or the door. He just knew his wings would take him home, and that home wasn't here.
(Home was a cabin in the snow where Wifies still had dreams. Home was a prison they swore to escape and a little wooden hut placed inside it. Home was a beautiful cottage, set in a plains biome, that blew up and died just like—)
The time blurred, shifting and morphing around him. It wasn't right. It wasn't real, not when he couldn't breathe and he needed to see those windows again. Not when the snow wasn't burning his skin and he couldn't hear Wifies humming that tune in his ear, not when he couldn't sing along. Not when the memories hit him in waves, like deep aches he didn't know how to quell.
When he finally landed, and his feet hit the snow, sharp and cold and crunching under his feet—the sun was half-way through its rise. There wasn't blood droplets in the snow anymore from where the fishing rod had hooked into Wifies's skin. There wasn't that sickly sweet scent of invisibility hanging in the air like far-expired fruit.
Parrot finally paused, coming to a final stop—and he unclipped the elytra from his back, letting his natural wings droop behind him—unpreened, because he couldn't let Theo anywhere near them yet—and stared at it.
It was untouched.
The walls were clean, and the snow clung to the roof—the windows kept their patterns and soft lines to make the shape of the beacons within them. The door was slightly ajar, but no snow had wafted in.
'Because we would rather die standing than live kneeling. And you can't seem to wrap your head around that.'
Parrot swallowed, taking a few steps inside. The smell hit him instantly—still warm, still smelling like Wifies. Parrot had never really noticed it before, but he thought of it now. The slight steel smell that always accompanied him—the hints of roses that never seemed to fade from his scent. The warm smell of grass that overpowered all of it.
Parrot's chest ached. His throat felt raw against his jaw—threatening to close clean shut on him. Instead, he shakily breathed, feeling the carpet move beneath him.
The dog-that-wasn't-his wasn't here anymore. Maybe it had wandered off, eventually, leaving this place behind.
Parrot hated calling it grief.
But he didn't know what else to call the way his chest burned at the thought that it was gone, purely because Wifies had tamed it. Like some small part of his soul had finally gone and shriveled away. It pushed against him, like a weight he couldn't remove. It felt like he was pinned down, like he had been shoved against another wall with a blade against his throat—except the blade was hope and wooden signs and invisibility potions splashed in corners and chunkbans and 'i knew you would,' and not cool, clean, netherite against a blank background—the terribly sweet scent of invisibility wafting en masse, thicker than it had ever been when it was just the two of them.
He walked slower, now—gentler, like the walls would shatter if he pushed them too hard. He ran his fingers along the somehow always warm wood, letting them graze the windows that dreamed just as much as he did. As Wifies did, because Parrot couldn't just let his name go unsaid. Because pushing it down and avoiding it made it hurt that much worse.
He shut his eyes, and let the memories wash over him. Let himself pretend they were real.
///
"So, thoughts on the pillows?" Wifies asked, that soft lilt to his voice. Parrot just blinked, turning to look at him and turning away from the stained glass windows.
"What pillows? These?" Parrot looked exhausted—they had gone more than a million blocks out. They had lost, in all the ways that mattered. Nonetheless, he'd always look where Wifies asked—he'd always answer where Wifies questioned.
"Yeah." Wifies responded. So, Parrot walked over to the messily assembled couch they had made—and the purple and green pillows that laid upon it. He looked at them for a second, considering (because Parrot would never brush off Wifies's question, even for the simplest things.)
"Yeah, they're fine." He mused, quiet and muttering. His wings drooped behind him—fuller, cleaner despite the long journey.
Wifies looked at him for a moment. Parrot's shoulders slumped, struggling to muster even the smallest excitement to his voice.
"Parrot?"
He looked up at Wifies, blinking slowly. His guard fully down. It shouldn't be—Ash could still find them—but it was Wifies. And Parrot can't help but trust Wifies, after everything. Even after everything.
"Whatever happens, I'll keep you safe. I promise." Wifies says, gently. Parrot smiles ever so softly, a small smile—broken and hurt and still shattered, but there.
"I know." Parrot responds.
And he does. Wifies has always kept him safe, and Parrot has always waited for Wifies.
Wifies protected, and Parrot waited.
Wifies-and-Parrot. Parrot-and-Wifies.
He inhales, and—
///
—the memory slips through his fingers.
Parrot blinks his eyes open, slowly, too slowly.
The pillows were still there.
And Wifies kept him safe, and Parrot waited as long as he could.
He was pretty sure some part of him was still waiting in that cabin, in that grand hall full of the same yellows and whites Wifies had dreamed of.
Parrot walked back outside, and felt the snow blister against his skin. He stared out for a second—into the places where Wifies's footsteps should've been, into the horrifying and piercing missing-ness of it all.
Eventually, he pulled his feet away from the cabin—towards the spruce forest that neighbored it. The spruce forest he ran through, heart in his throat, the ping of the communicator ringing in his head for hours.
Now, it was empty, calm, and eerily silent. He grabbed a poppy—it wasn't a rose, or at least not a full bushel of them—but it was close. Close enough.
When he got back to the cabin, though, he froze in his tracks—his breath catching in his throat and his wings fluffing up beside him.
No.
Not here. Not now. Not like this.
Theo crouched next to the snow—eyebrows furrowed in focus as he ran his hand along the faint tracks Parrot had left. His winglets twitched when Parrot's breath stuttered—and he turned to face him, eyes widening in surprise. He went to speak, but maybe something about Parrot's expression—or the rose in his hand—or the fact he had wandered out here in the middle of the night forced him to slow down. He stood up fully, wings fluttering and adjusting behind him.
"…Parrot?" He spoke slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal that could decide to flee at any moment. Maybe that wasn't too far off, Parrot distantly thought—but his mind was racing too far to recognize it.
(Theo was too bright for a place like this. Too reckless, too rambunctious—too bold. Too alive. This was a place where dead things lied, where broken and lost things went to lose themselves further. He looked out of place against the snow—with his bright yellow and grey wings, the soft red markings on his face beneath his sunglasses.)
"Theo." Parrot breathed—a whisper, a melody.
Theo glanced down at the rose in his hand, and at the empty, painfully painfully empty and lifeless cabin—and maybe Theo was smarter than Parrot accounted for. Maybe Theo could understand some things as easy as breathing. Maybe Theo saw the broken look on Parrot's face and for once, had the grace to stay quiet.
Maybe Theo knew Wifies wasn't with Parrot at spawn, and Parrot never said a word about him.
Maybe Theo knew the way Parrot's wings fluttered with anxiety every time they crossed a snow biome in their travels.
Maybe Theo could, on some level—some never-enough, never-accurate, never-real level—understand this.
Parrot swallowed, shrinking in on himself slightly. The cold still bit at his skin. Theo slowly approached him—keeping his wings close to his back, keeping himself small. Parrot held still, so perfectly eerily still—bracing for the worst. Bracing for the silence to break, for Theo to yell at him for leaving or scaring him or both, bracing for Theo to leave him here and never ask.
Instead, a cloak was wrapped around his shoulders—and Parrot blinked back to the present, like he was struggling to remember what was here and what was now.
Some part of him almost—instinctively, because it was always Parrot-and-a-Wifies—told Wifies to stop fussing over him, expecting that soft giggle that betrayed his trained facial expressions and made Parrot crack the smallest of smiles, every time.
Instead, he just stuttered for a moment, and Theo glanced back at the cabin, and then the empty field beside it.
"…It was Wifies, right?" He asks, and it's a good question. It's the only question, because who else would it be? Who else could break Parrot this deeply, this thoroughly? And Parrot can't bring himself to answer, but the strangled sound that escapes his throat is answer enough. Theo softly grabs his hand, squeezing it tight—and slowly strings Parrot along.
Parrot keeps expecting Wifies to start humming their song. Parrot keeps expecting to feel the soft number indentation on Wifies's wrist. Parrot keeps expecting Wifies, and it never is, and it never will be.
Wifies—no, never Wifies, never again—Theo, brings him to that empty field—brushes away the snow with his foot, and grabs a sign from his inventory. He places it, and gently—ever so gently, he's not sure he's ever felt Theo be this gentle (That wasn't true for Wifies. Wifies always handled things with the utmost care, like everything was fragile. Parrot laughed at him sometimes for it. Wifies just said he didn't want to risk something breaking.)
(Maybe that was the difference between them, in the end. Parrot grabbed things, and if they broke, he promised to fix it later, or pay it back. Wifies handled things with care first—to prevent them breaking in the first place.)
(Maybe that did make Wifies smarter than him. Or maybe it just made him more scared.)
(That thought just made a sob curl up in Parrot's throat and lie there. God, was he scared, when the rod got pulled, or when the timer ticked down to zero—)
Theo had never been this gentle. His hand was guided to the ground, and he dropped the rose there. He wasn't thinking—he wasn't present, but when he blinked and looked again, a sign had been placed there.
'To Wifies
A friend'
Parrot hated calling it grief.
But when Theo sat beside him, rubbing soft circles into his back and gentle reassurances, it felt a little more like it.
Maybe because grief is always defined by what comes after, and what's missing from it. And what's new, after it.
///
Wifies struggled some after the first chunkban.
He came back to himself pretty quickly, but something about being stuck in the code like that—it does things to the mind. Parrot took care of him, and waited, as he always does—for Wifies to come back to himself, but he remembers something Wifies said from back then.
"And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you?" Wifies murmured, in the dead of night—Parrot rolled over from where he had laid down beside him, if only to keep an eye on him. Plus, they were used to sleeping in close quarters at this point.
"I dunno, W'fies." Parrot murmured—still half asleep, but he'd blink awake at the next words.
"To see you, Parrot. To know you. And to be known." Wifies spoke again—but he looked like he meant it, even with the soft swirl of colors in his eyes that was unnatural, leftover corruption from where the chunk-ban miscoded him.
Parrot blinked, sitting up slightly and looking at Wifies again, closer. His winglets softly fluttering off the last hints of sleep.
"Sometimes it called them—them planets, and stars. Sometimes..it said you're alive. You're real. You're special."
"The universe—it, the stars, you, the universe—you said, and the universe said, that you're not alone."
"The universe said it loved you, Parrot."
And Parrot recognized the basis of the words—the same words he hears in the travel between End and Overworld. But those were only whispers, implications, warmth that enveloped you. This—this, Parrot couldn't understand. Not fully.
Parrot smiled a little, brushing his hand through Wifies's hair briefly—grazing along the small fox ears.
"I know, Wifies."
"I love you too."
///
Grief was a bi-yearly thing, for Parrot.
A lot had happened since Verdaria. Wemmbu 'died', got his identity revealed, Theo and Parrot struggled and learned—LAW had risen further than either had ever expected. Parrot was running for king, even. Although, he needed Wemmbu's help to prove that Lettuce was lying to the populace—and while it had taken a while, he had found him.
They were traveling for nearly a week—they only had two weeks until the election, after all, and if Parrot didn't make it on time with Wemmbu, there was no way he'd win.
Wemmbu was Parrot's last hope, admittedly.
He realized—at some point in their travels—somewhere in the forest but before the ice spikes, that it was June 28th.
The day he killed the Director.
The day the Director died.
Parrot wasn't going to break down about it—he just didn't have the time, or the space to. LAW was still chasing them down, and Parrot didn't have the time to mourn.
He couldn't bring himself to smile the same way, either, though.
He had wanted to apologize to Wemmbu. Back at the Great Sea. About revealing his identity. He understood now that it was more complex than he thought—that he should've listened to him sooner. He understood wanting to start over. He understood it far too well, actually.
(Three carrots was not enough to come to spawn. He knew this. Even if spawn was perfectly safe, it wouldn't have been enough.)
(At the time, he couldn't bring himself to care.)
(He's not sure what would've happened if Theo hadn't found him.)
It's just…the entire thing reminded him a little too much of the Director. Lying to friends, faking your death, pretending to be someone you're not—pretending to be someone kind, and alive, and not dead.
He wanted to do something good. He didn't think about what he'd break along the way.
(Parrot was never gentle like Wifies. That was both his downfall and what saved him, in the end.)
Nonetheless, Wemmbu had shoved him off the ledge—and he landed fine, only a little soaked, having roughly slowed his fall with his wings—and he hadn't gotten the chance. Things just escalated way too quickly.
Usually, him and Wemmbu would find something to talk about—whether it was a dumb argument, an oddly placed question about Parrot's morals, or their plans for when they get back. This time, though, Parrot just..couldn't bring himself to initiate or engage past murmured responses.
He didn't mean to freeze up when they passed a taiga biome, but Wemmbu noticed. Ever-observant Wemmbu.
Wemmbu's tail flicked slightly—and Parrot blinked back to reality, clearing his throat harshly to get the tightness to loosen.
"Uh, sorry, what were you saying?" Parrot turned to look at Wemmbu, wings adjusting to be tighter against his back. Wemmbu just raised an eyebrow, his posture relatively casual.
"You like, zoned out. Went all…" Wemmbu gestured vaguely, his tail assisting with the gesture. Parrot had never really noticed how expressive he was. (It was a way to get his mind off the Director. He wouldn't lie to himself about it.)
Parrot only hummed a little in response, wings adjusting behind him nervously. He glanced back at the snow one more time—just to make it hurt, just to not let the memory fade—and kept walking.
Wemmbu didn't follow, though—and after a few steps, Parrot turned around, trying to keep his voice steady when he spoke again.
"Wemmbu, bro? You coming?" He spoke lightly—a little too lightly, straining at the edges of his register. Wemmbu just stared at him, like he was trying to decide something.
Wemmbu clicked his tongue—like he was annoyed at himself for the decision—and pulled to the side, away from the taiga and towards a forest nearby. Parrot looked confused, but slowly tagged along—he couldn't just leave Wemmbu behind. Maybe Wemmbu saw something?
(Parrot knew it wasn't that. He just couldn't make himself believe that Wemmbu would care if he noticed something wrong.)
(It'd just make what he did that much worse.)
Parrot trailed behind him for probably several hundred blocks before they finally came to a stop. Wemmbu put an ender chest down casually, tail flicking behind him as he rummaged through it. Parrot just stared, not sure what to make of it.
After a few minutes of silence between them, Wemmbu seemed to find what he was looking for—pulling a sort of trail mix out of it and tossing it to Parrot. Parrot's wings fluffed up in surprise, a squawk escaping his mouth as he hurriedly grabbed the thing being thrown at him, just barely catching it. Wemmbu snorted a little, but was now holding his own snack—some kind of candy Parrot didn't recognize—and was sitting down, leaning against one of the trees.
Parrot just stared, still a little shell-shocked.
"Uhm. Bro?" Parrot laughed a little, tilting his head in that signature bird way he always did. Eventually, though, reality caught up to him, and he swallowed, adjusting softly.
It didn't feel right to do this today. Not when the world was unraveling around him. Not when he was a murderer. (Of his best friend, no less. Of someone he waited for. Of someone who kept him safe.)
Not when he kept ruining lives afterwards.
He channeled his sorrow into calculative concern instead, shifting in place awkwardly.
"We kinda need to keep moving. We don't have time to just sit around," Parrot near-scolded, messing with the trail-mix bag in his hands.
Wemmbu just opened an eye to glare at him, tail thwapping against the ground in barely concealed annoyance.
"Look, I agree, but you're not gonna be getting anything done like this. I'm not stupid," Wemmbu remarks, looking unimpressed and like he can see straight through Parrot.
Parrot stiffens at that, the small crinkling of the bag going silent. He looks away, his wings drooping a bit—and sighs, sitting down across from him.
"..It's that obvious?" Parrot tried to give a smile, but it came out as more of a strained attempt at a grimace. Wemmbu's face softened imperceptibly—his tail slowing down beside him.
"..Er, yeah. Kinda, bro." Wemmbu joked, but—a bit like Parrot's attempt at a smile—it came out more forced, awkward and guarded. Parrot watched, that part of his brain that was always analytical picking it apart like fresh prey.
Huh.
He didn't really expect Wemmbu to be the kinda guy to notice something like that.
Parrot took a breath, looking up into the treecover—at the way the sunlight filters through the leaves.
'And sometimes—the player believed that the universe had spoken to it, through the sunlight that came through shuffling leaves of summer trees-'
It never felt fitting that Wifies died in summer.
When the world was so alive, and the heat whisked through Parrot's feathers. It didn't feel right that there was something missing there, something emptying it out.
It didn't feel right that the warm smell of grass wasn't Wifies.
Parrot wasn't sure why he said anything about it. He barely talked about Wifies, let alone with someone like Wemmbu. Maybe it was the silence, or maybe it was the quiet kindness Wemmbu had shown.
"…You've ever lost anyone?" Parrot asked, quietly—calmly, still holding the small packet in his hands.
Wemmbu went still—holding a candy midway to his mouth—and his tail froze in place, laying limp against the forest floor.
He quietly put the candy back in the bag, looking away and wrapping his tail around his own leg.
He didn't notice, but his hand absent-mindedly reached to the sunflower clip in his hair. Parrot noticed, though.
Parrot usually noticed.
"Uh. Yeah, once."
Parrot hummed in quiet understanding, letting the silence sit between them.
The forest echoed with noise around them—small birds, some of the birdsongs Parrot could almost decipher, like the way you decipher a language you've heard around you for years but never properly learned—the soft rustle of animals, the gentle breeze that swayed the ferns and trees around them.
Parrot considers, somewhere—if this is what Wifies would've wanted. Somewhere, he knew it probably wasn't. Wifies—the Director—would've wanted him safe and sound in Paragon all his life.
He struggles to explain why he misses the Director, too. Wifies is easy to explain. He was his best friend—kind, gentle, bright, hopeful. Always rekindling Parrot's flame like a matchstick to a candle.
And in a way, he doesn't miss the Director. He doesn't miss being trapped in the slightest. He doesn't miss the way the Director would wear Wifies's face, draw him in, make him feel safe when he wasn't. Not safe in the way he wanted.
But a part of him also understood the Director. The question had lingered in his own mind before—safety, or freedom? Familiarity, or the unknown? There are so many times he could've stayed in one place, and maybe he would've been safer.
But at the same time, if he had stayed in those places, he wouldn't have met the people he did today.
If he had never looked for the secret, he would've never met Rekrap, Derapchu, Jumper—everyone who helped him get Wifies out. If he had never gotten stuck in the original Capital City, he would've never met Luigi. Would've never found the Farlands. Would've never met Theo—would've never met Dean, or Spepticle, or Nufuli.
If he had never listened to that music disc, he would've never gotten close to Wifies.
Those losses hurt. Of course they did. Every single one simmered under his skin, a burn that'd never fully dim. A reminder that never faded. But the people behind them, the experiences, the twin stars, the whispered admiration, the undying loyalty, the laughter, the compass—those meant more than the losses could ever effect him.
And somewhere, Parrot decided—silently, internally—that Wifies would've wanted this. His Wifies, the kind Wifies, the Wifies who showed up to his doorstep and told him he couldn't give up. That he couldn't let Clown win. That he couldn't let him end a life second-hand.
The Wifies who knew he'd be in the jungle.
The Wifies who told him to show mercy to Branzy.
And, somewhere—Parrot is certain.
"I think they'd be proud of us." He says—aloud—quiet, but real, certain.
Wemmbu's heart twists in his gut a little, but he smiles—gently, barely there.
Forgive and forget.
Wemmbu looks up at the leaves shifting in the wind—the dappled sunlight hitting both of their faces.
"…Yeah." Wemmbu replies, tail twitching slightly beside him.
The universe said it loved you, Parrot.
"I think they would."
///
Parrot perked up as Wifies got shuffled into their cell—his wings expanding and entire posture turning into something more open, more certain. Wifies smiled in response, running over and sighing, looking up at the sky for a second.
His smile faded for a moment—and Parrot seemed to notice. He looked at Wifies, analyzing in that way he always did, head tilting slightly. Wifies looked at him, swallowing harshly.
"..We'll get out, right?" Wifies whispered, softly, only for them to hear. For no one else to know. Just for Parrot-and-a-Wifies.
Parrot got this determined look on his face, the one he always did when he was certain of something, and he dragged Wifies to a hill at the edge of this cell.
Parrot sat down beside him, and Wifies sat at the same time—always following, always understanding.
"Alright, Wifies. You listen to me." And Parrot got that little smirk on his face, the kind he got when he was about to do something a little silly. Wifies couldn't help but crack a small smile, despite the sinking feeling in his gut.
"I am so certain, that we'll get out of here," he started— "that I'm gonna give you a braid of my hair."
Wifies stared dumbly, like he was trying to sort through the encyclopedia in his head of what that meant.
Eventually, he blinked, and asked the burning question.
"…Isn't that only after you, like, conquer something together? We're not quite there yet." Wifies huffed with soft amusement. Parrot just shook his head vehemently though—grabbing Wifies's hands as if that would help solidify his point.
"No, that's what I'm saying. I am so certain that we'll get past this that I wanna do it now. And then you can trust me the next time I say we'll do it, 'cause I'll have been right last time, and we'll have proof." And Parrot smiled—that bright, undying smile, like when he had real hope, and Wifies couldn't help but laugh.
It was ridiculous. It was so, so Parrot.
He laughed for long enough that Parrot's smile fell a little, turning into a bit of a pouting frown. Eventually, Wifies wiped his eyes—and inhaled, rolling his eyes fondly.
"Alright, fine. We can do the braids." Wifies relented, tugging on Parrot's winglets playfully. Parrot squawked, batting him away with a playful look and expanding his wings behind him.
"Oh, it's on."
///
Yeah, Parrot thought, as the crown rested on his head, and he looked out at the crowd before him. Wifies would definitely be proud.