The platter required both of his hands this time. Prisoner balanced the metal disk so that none of the food slid off the sides or toppled from their tall stacks. He held most of the weight with his uninjured hand. Guilt swamped Summer, weighing her down like a boulder.
He took a step closer, the door swinging shut behind him with a sense of finality. She could hear the sound locks being secured. They were trapped in this meager space together. At least he had the forethought to bring food with him.
He stared at her like he could read her mind. With all of the bizarre technology humans had put to use over the years, she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he could. She attempted to purge her mind of any thoughts of the broken river rock and the snooping she had done. Her stomach growled so loud that her next thoughts were laid bare for Prisoner to appreciate.
Summer's mouth watered at the smell of the meat. The humans had burnt it again, but she was so hungry. Never in her centuries of existence had she been so ravenous. How had her empty belly not gnawed a hole through her? Just precious minutes ago she had been cheerfully unaware of this gaping void in her gut. Summer was half-tempted to lunge forward and snatch the meal from Prisoner's trembling hands.
The human must have sensed something, because he hurriedly lowered the plate to the floor and backed away with his hands raised. She pounced, feathers whistling along the floor as she closed the distance, crouching down and stabbing a steak with her claw. She bit into it, and flavor exploded along her tongue. They hadn't burned it as much as they had before; the tender meat still offered droplets of thick blood. She closed her eyes in bliss.
She had devoured more than half of the towering platter before she remembered that Prisoner was here with her. The human was leaned against the wall with a mixture of fear and disgust painting his face. Summer blinked, wiping the dribbling blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, thoroughly mortified. She tucked her wings in tight behind her, lifting them off the floor. She didn't know what had possessed her to be so very rude.
Summer gingerly picked out another slab of meat, well-burnt like most humans liked it. She held it out towards Prisoner, offering it back to him. He shook his head, stumbling over words. "No, thank you, I'm good, really." She tilted her head, furrowing her brows at him. Surely he would want some of the goodies he had brought? He rattled his head no once again, and she gave a shrug, nibbling on the food herself.
Her stomach still felt like it was wrapping itself into knots, but she wrangled some semblance of manners from her bad habits. She settled herself down onto the floor, eating slowly. Prisoner didn't quite relax, but as she munched her way through the plate, his eyes wandered from her. Summer nudged the remainders of meat around the plate, debating. The pieces were charred, nearly black. She wrinkled her nose. Such a waste.
With a gentle nudge, she sent the platter skittering towards the human. It ground to a halt at his feet. Prisoner regarded it, then left it where it was. Maybe he just wasn't hungry? Summer sank into her thoughts, her wings drooping as she picked strings of meat out from under her claws. She had forced their relationship more than a few steps backwards. How could she make up for it? Would he accept a gift, or maybe enjoy a story? Her kind was pretty good at telling stories.
Prisoner shifted his body and laughed under his breath. Summer cringed as he peeked past her to the scattered shards of metal and clumps of fuzz in the corner. What had she done that was funny? She craned her neck over her shoulder to study the river rock. The ruby within no longer performed its angry flashing. Her eyes returned to the human and she considered him, wondering if asking him about the stone would forfeit any hopes of her escape.
He fell deathly quiet, and she pressed her lips together into a thin line. She tapped her claws together, feeling awkward in her own body. The human seemed more uncomfortable with every move she made. Summer sighed, looking down at her lap, resting her arms on her thighs.
Small black lines crept across the skin of her forearm, down by her elbow. She narrowed her eyes, poking her skin with a claw and watching the twine slither. Clotted silver blood carved a thin line perpendicular. She was getting ready to cut out whatever the humans had woven into her skin when Prisoner asserted in a quiet but shockingly hardy voice.
"No."
Summer brought her glare up to meet his eyes, and he puffed out his chest. Who did he think he was? She bared her fangs at him half-heartedly, her feathers hissing on the ground as she slowly spread her wings. Gaps shone unnervingly though her wings where the humans had plucked her. Plucked. She slid a claw carefully between the black string and her skin.
"No," Prisoner repeated, his voice rising into a stern yell. She sneered at him. He could try to stop her if he dared. She severed one of the strings with a satisfying pop, her skin feeling more free already. She pulled either side free from her skin with a vaguely uncomfortable feeling.
The human was in front of her much faster than she thought him capable of moving. "Stop it, don't do that!" His voice became shrill in a very unattractive way. She tilted her head at him, gathering her feet under her to deal with this human nuisance. This must be some foul magic for him to be so insistent.
Summer froze as Prisoner grabbed her forearm in a gentle but assertive grip. His bandages fluttered to the floor, tickling her talons."Look," the ballsy human commanded. He showed her his palm, shoving it just inches from her face. The same markings covered his palm. Where there had been a deep slice, there were rows of black twine holding his skin together in a neat crimson line. "They're to help you heal. Don't rip them out."
The Avi wasn't sure why she couldn't find her tongue. Prisoner's touch loosened, but she didn't pull away. She just gaped at him in disbelief. Surely the humans wouldn't place something meant for harm on their own brethren. "Do you understand?" he asked in a gentler voice.
She nodded slowly, his breath rippling through the air between them. Her eyes must have spoken before her lips found the courage, because the human solved the very question she meant to ask.
"They're called stitches."