It's been seven days, twelve hours, and twenty-three minutes since I've woken up in this world, and I've just learned what "nesting" is. Really, I've been wondering since that first night what these winged humans were doing when they got into those strange, hammock-like things they all had at the end of the day. It couldn't be sleeping, I first assumed, because they always had their eyes open- at least, they always did around me.
I'm not even sure how I got here to begin with, just that one minute I was falling asleep in my own bed and the next I was being woken up by the icy chill of snow melting into my pajama pants. The distant swoop of what I thought must've been a giant vulture coming to take my comatose body away was really a human, coming to gather my paralyzed form.
Really, it couldn't be held against me that I didn't figure out where I was or what was going on, because I couldn't move for the first three days.
I was taken to a doctor, obviously, once the winged person who found me realized that 1. I was turning blue, and 2. I didn't have wings. I was stuck in a hospital room and put on dialysis for a day before all of my blood had been replaced with someone else's, which kind of worried me, because whatever these beings were, they can't have the same red cells or hemoglobins or whatever as I do.
Nonetheless, it worked, and I was able to breathe on my own for the first time since waking up. My doctor, a very soft-spoken man with pale brown wings that fluttered softly whenever he was working, would talk to me sometimes when changing out my I.V. bags. I don't think he knew I could hear him, but I appreciated it all the same. He would explain how the machines worked or what was going on with my body often, and I think I probably learned more in the three days I was under his care than the twelve years I spent in school, science-wise.
When I was finally able to move one my own, the first thing I did was pull off the sensors attached to my back. I was told they were there to "stimulate growth", which I assume means the person who found me didn't notice that I was obviously not from around here.
My reemergence into the fully conscious world wasn't gradual, as I always thought it would be should I ever go into a coma (hey, everyone thinks about it at some point!). However, it was more all-at-once; I went from barely being able to hear and see every so often to being slammed with a wave of sensory input- I could feel the pinch where the I.V. bit into my skin, the stickiness of heart monitors on my chest, and the strange sensation of the things connected to my shoulder blades dispensing something smooth and warm every few minutes. There was also the heaviness of my limbs, sore from disuse, and the bitter taste of my own breath from three days of strange medication being administered and my incapability to properly clean my teeth.
I was about to attempt to swing my legs over the bed, face already burning from effort, when my nurse came in wheeling a cart of things for the sponge bath I've been getting daily from her. When we locked eyes, the poor nurse dropped her tube of soap and ran, presumably to fetch the doctor.
I had finally gotten my legs over the edge when the doctor came in, eyes wide, hair ruffled, and wings puffed up. His eyes glazed over slightly when he saw the tubes in my back had been disconnected, and took several seconds to recover before finally coming over to me to take my vitals. Apparently what he saw pleased him, because I was taken off the I.V.
"Your blood pressure has risen slightly, but that's completely ordinary for people coming out of paralysis. May I ask what all you were capable of seeing and hearing before you woke up?"
I nodded, attempting to speak but quickly realizing my tongue still couldn't move. Unintelligible, half-choked garbling came out instead, and I'm pretty sure I strained my throat too much, if the iron that rose in my mouth was any indication.
"Woah, hey, that's okay. Don't talk, it'll probably take a few days for your body to return to normal, anyways. I'll get you a whiteboard for now."
I nodded, holding a hand up to my throat and then making a drinking gesture. Water.
He thankfully seemed to understand what I was trying to say, asking a nurse to get me a cup of water from the tank against the wall before leaving to get my whiteboard.
When she turned around to fill the paper cup, I got my first good look at her wings- pale pink streaked with red in a few places, dainty and neatly folded to her back. When she walked back to hand me the water, I reached a hand out towards her back, the desire to feel them stronger than any reservations I had about how "personal space" in this world worked.
She didn't miss my move, flinching away and choosing to give me my drink at arm's length instead of coming close enough for me to touch her. Not knowing what else to do, I took the already-soggy cup and shrunk backwards, the best sorry that I could manage at the time.
She left a few minutes before the doctor came back in the room, and he gave me a whiteboard with a strap attached, then a marker with a magnet on the side to stick it to the board when I wasn't using it.
"Okay, so now can you please write down the extent of your seeing and hearing?"
I nodded, writing "could hear you talking to me & nurse. Nurse didn't talk much."
He nodded, bringing up a hologram of what I assume are patient records and writing something down. "Great. What all could you see? I assume you were in perch most of the time."
Confused, I wrote a giant "?" on the whiteboard and turned it to face him.
"Well, your eyes were open most of the time, but your brain activity was minimal. Unless…"
He turned around again to write something on his record as I decided to just come back to this "perch" thing later, scribbling "You all have wings"
He turned around, reading my message quickly and then creasing his brow, light brown feathers puffing up further until they seemed twice their size, which I assume was an intimidation tactic but just made me want to stick my hand in them.
"Yes, we do. In fact, everyone has wings, and if you had come into this world without I would've heard about it by now. You're not from here, are you?"
I shook my head, rubbing my hand in circles on my chest before remembering that he probably can't speak sign language, or he would've asked if I could.
"Forgive me, my skills are a bit rusty, but did you just say 'sorry'?"
I nodded, signing can you understand me?
He squinted slightly. "I'm sorry, the most I got was "Can you… me?"
I wrote down on the whiteboard, "understand. Guess not"
He nodded, continuing to type on the hologram. "What can you remember from before Nat picked you up?"
"Went to bed, woke up bc of cold, saw giant bird, passed out, you know rest."
He nodded again, this time making a sound of affirmation before completing his notes. "You most likely have a lot of questions, am I correct?"
I nodded, my body starting to go limp again from sitting up for so long. I pulled my legs up and crossed them, resting my elbows on my knees and my chin in my palms. The doctor must've picked up on my exhaustion, because he started closing down the holograms and gathering the clipboards stashed around the room. "I'll leave you to it for a while, you probably need to rest for a bit. There's a call button on the side of the bed if you need anything, and the nurse will be back in to give you dinner and check your vitals."
As he turned to leave, I remembered something and fervently wrote on the board, smacking the bed when I finished so the doctor would know I had written something. When he finally turned around, I made sure it was perfectly in view for him to read. He responded quickly, light brown wings shuffling behind him.
"My name? I suppose I haven't given it to you yet, have I?"
I shook my head as he repositioned his books.
"I'm Dr. Bruce Banner."
