They’re an odd sight to see, to say the least. Normally someone with visible hybrid traits can be identified on sight, but not them. Even they don’t know what they are.
They have gills and webbed fingers, as well as scales and fins. Easy enough, they’re some type of aquatic hybrid, fish probably. Wrong. They also have claws and fangs, a common trait for mammal hybrids. They have fur tipped ears and a black nose. They have feathers in their hair and on their limbs. They have a thin furred tail with a tuft at the end.
When you look at them you almost get whiplash. They’re a mix of features, a mutt in a world of hybrids. Luckily they’re all mostly subtle traits, no deadly allergies or extra limbs. It doesn’t make them feel any better about themselves.
When compared to them, Petrov is the most perfect being in the world. His wings are a thing to behold, sleek black feathers look like an oil spill when he spreads them in the sun. There are feathers in his hair that just add to the bedhead look he always has. Feathers gather at his wrists and ankles, wispy white down that is so soft under your touch.
He’s so perfect.
They make sure to derail that train of thought when they catch sight of the sappy lovestruck expression they’re making in the mirror. They absolutely will not be caught making such a dumb and soft expression, even if it’s only by themselves.
They pat down their hair and smooth out the feathers caught there. Another thing about being a mutt of a hybrid is that their emotions are always on showcase. Their fins will flare, or their feathers will puff up, or their claws will extend, or their tail will move, or any of the many other things will happen. It doesn’t matter how much they try to school their expression, something will give them away.
They try to get a move on instead of fussing over feathers they know won’t stand down. They’re supposed to meet Petrov by the cliffs. They usually hang out there, if only because of the lake and the height.
It’s a little bit of a walk but it’s not that bad. They don’t get tired that easily and they don’t trip on any branches or anything. It’s something to do with the tail they think, people with tails tend to have more balance.
When they get there Petrov is late. Or maybe they’re early. It doesn’t really matter, just more time for them to splash around in the water. They hop in as soon as they reach the lake.
Their fur feels weird, their tail swishes around underwater dragged down by the wet that clings to it. The currents pull their feathers opposite of where they’re supposed to lay.
It feels weird for many parts of them, but for the others, it’s home. This is natural to them, treading water and hovering at the top. They want to dive so badly but they want to talk with Petrov when their hair isn’t sopping wet and getting into their eyes.
But they want to dive, no, they need to dive. They need to feel the water against their fins, the water softening their hair into silk, the natural breathing through their gills.
But they can’t. Their feathers and fur will protest and their gills don’t work correctly. But they want to feel their claws digging into the sand as they run across the floor.
They hope Petrov gets here soon before he has to fish them out from the bottom of the lake. If they had fully functioning gills they would absolutely be just sitting on the floor. Unfortunately, they have to breathe with their lungs. They can hold their breath for longer underwater though which they guess is cool.
They make do with just swimming around trying not to soak their hair. The feathers don’t like it either so they make sure to not get the top half of their head wet at all costs.
They make sure to keep an eye out for him so they see when he comes in. He dives in from up high, it usually takes a long time for him to get down to the ground. His large wings are pulled back and he looks strikingly similar to a bird of prey.
His wings aren’t identifiable as any species and even though they look like a raven, they aren’t built like it. But that’s how avians are, generally. Their wings are very similar to a species of bird but aren’t quite the same.
Watching him fly always amazes them and anyone else who sees it. He’s diving very quickly but the ground is approaching and he still doesn’t pull out until the last possible second. There is an audible crack in the air when he flares his wings out and a dull thud as he hits the ground. It’s a miracle he still has knees with the way he treats them.
He’s still very graceful, even with his rough flying.
“Hey Petrov.”
“Hi, Downie.” They roll their eyes at that.
“Stop calling me that.”
“No.” He gives them a smile and flops down on the shore, half sitting and half lying down. It’s very hard to sit normally when you have wings the size of you.
“I hate you.” He’s so exasperating. They have no idea how they ended up being friends. They have no idea how they managed to fall for this idiot.
“Awwww, no you don’t. Tell me you love me.” He scoots closer to the water, flapping his wings a bit. It kicks sand everywhere.
“Not if you keep flinging sand in my eyes.”
Oh no. Here come the puppy eyes.
“Please? You’re going to tell me you hate me? That you hate my guts and wish you had never met me?” The little bastard is saying things again. But unfortunately, they have no defence and fold like wet paper.
“Fine. I love you.”
He cheers and scoots back while fluttering his wings, once more flinging sand everywhere. They cuss at him while trying to scrub the sand out of their eyes.
He’s grinning at them by the time they can see again. That stupid grin that matches his stupid eyes and his stupid expression. His hair is messy in the same way it always is with his feathers being the only things that are orderly. His wings spread out on the ground around him, he doesn’t like tucking his wings behind him. The feathers fall like some sort of cloak around him, carving marks in the sand as he moves.
He’s so infuriatingly amazing. Why does he always manage to make them laugh while pissing them off at the same time?
It’s out of their mouth before they can stop it, they don’t think they could’ve stopped it anyway.
“I love you.” They just said it moments before but this time it’s too vulnerable. It lays all of their horribly vulnerable and sappy emotions out to bare.
Petrov blinks and draws back for a moment, taken aback by the sudden switch. They don’t deserve him, not one bit. They don’t deserve to see the smile that grows on his face after a moment of confusion.
He reaches forward, unbothered by the water, to drag them into a hug. They’re soaking wet and still, he curls his wings around them. He holds them close and his hands find their way to the feathers in their hair to move them into place and smooth them out.
He looks them in the eyes just to say it.
“I love you.”
They’re covered in sand and water and they still don’t think there’s anywhere else they’d rather be. This feels like slipping into water, like stepping into home. They don’t know how this patchwork hybrid ever ended up with someone so infuriatingly amazing and perfect.