Gold and dragon feathers

Open door

On either side of Tommy there is a slow awkward shuffling of feet. At least it's not just him who feels unable to sit still. Despite the trees casting shade on the small group ,shielding them from the elements, Tommy's instincts are certain that he's too exposed...Though feeling exposed is less about his surroundings and more about the wings trying to dig their way into his back and the cool breeze that sends waves of discomfort through his body with every usually hidden feather it ruffles.

He glances to his left, where Wilbur is standing beside him. The piglin hybrid looks confident, despite the shifting of his feet that's flattening the frost coated grass bit by bit with every passing movement. Curles of brown hair brush against the taller hybrid's nose, though he takes no notice. He looks so collected, especially compared to the false bravado of his brothers to his right. He returns his gaze forward with a sigh.

Tommy is already regretting agreeing to this. It feels like they've all been waiting for centuries, even though Tommy knows it's only been a few minutes. All of the confidence his hoard gave him is gone, leaving an anxiety that he's trying to stifle.

Unfortunately, his wings apparently mean that when Wilbur glances over at him,  Tommy easy to read. He growls softly at the unexpected feeling of something touching his wings, it's promptly ignored but the hand stroking his feathers lets them lay a little flatter so he doesn't mind too much. Tubbo mirrors the piglin's sentiment by gently bumping against his side. The show of support lets  the dragon hybrid's heartbeat grow more stable.

Any moment now the others will start to arrive, it's only a total of three people (for now, Tubbo had made it clear this is just to start... Tommy doesn't like what that implies but he didn't have it in him to fight it at the risk of more being added to their current group). They've invited Niki and the other two members of the Sbi to another walk through the woods, this time starting with lunch behind the mountain. Tubbo had easily asked Wilbur to come early, briefing him on the "plan" (at the end of the day it still kind of ended up just being "show up there and see how they react") (he would have more issues with that if that wasn't basically how he's told everyone he has told).

He feels his anxiety ebb and flow like the sea in his stomach, a peaceful moment will make it fizzle down before the sound of a leaf crunching under the foot of some woodland creature brings it back up to his throat. He's not sure if the growing impatience is helping him feel less scared or just making it worse. He doesn't have a choice either way but he would appreciate it if the others show up soon. That or that they never show up at all but that seems unlikely and Tubbo would probably end up still making him tell them eventually. He knows the goat hybrid means well but it's frustrating to be told what to do.

Plus, he still doesn't get the big fuss being made about his forms,anyway. He understands why Wilbur was always so insistent in making him take breaks on their trip since by the end of it he had actually gotten stuck but this whole thing about not hiding his wings rubs him the wrong way. He's strong enough to deal with suppressing his magic, even if it's a little more difficult lately he doesn't see why it's such a big deal.

Besides, even if they try to hide their disappointment whenever his wings are tucked away, he's even started to notice that his brothers have grown almost obsessed with his wings. While he's not one to mind attention, it does bother him when that attention is put on the very features he's hid his entire life.

He breathes a sigh of relief as, finally, he hears voices start to approach them. For a second he's just happy to be distracted from his thoughts before the wings against his back shutter, reminding him that they're still exploded, locking up his muscles once more.

Wibut gives him a concerned look before ruffling his hair, only to frown when the blond doesn't respond with his usual indignation. The dragon hybird finds that he's lost his voice so he just presses his lips together, staring straight ahead at the trees between them and the growing idle chatter. He lets Wilbur mess with his hair (even though it only adds another thing to feel on top of a closed throat, windswept sensitive feathers and a twisting stomach) until Tubbo brushes the hand away with a protective look (is he really that easy to read?)(doesn't matter).