#rooster!felix

*Felix clutched the ring closer to his chest, thumb running over the smooth surface of the egg shaped jewel. It glinted golden in the fading light and made him want to whoop and holler, shriek delightedly and crow at the world made in his image. "I can't. I can't give it back." 

"Can't you?" Orikko is patient even now. It's obvious, no matter that Felix has long since detransformed, forced out of it when his power timed out and the magic crashed. He can't feel Orikko's gentle insistence thrumming through his veins any longer, but the tilt of the kwamii's head is still kind, still soft. 

Felix shakes his head no, nerves still singing under the bright hope that flared at the call of his miraculous, bringing a new beginning to the heroes who had been fighting exhausted and battered, assaulted on all fronts until his voice (his!) called out and rejuvenated them. The sun had flared, and his skin still tingled at the warmth that suffused into his body. He had done that. He had spoken and sung and shouted, weaving power and magic into the words he thought so loudly and never used until he had managed to help. How could he let go of it now? How could he be expected to sink so easily back into the shadows, drop his voice to a whisper if he were allowed to use it at all, when he could shriek at the top of his lungs and call forth a new day, bring hope and strength borne of courage and comradery?

He clutches it tighter, and watches Orikko peck away at a sunflower seed until it disappears. Felix worries soon his ring will, too. Orikko swoops through the air and settles on his hair, preening until Felix softens under the gentle care.

"Why not?" Despite the sharp clicks and corners of Orikko's voice, the statement is still calm, round and soft and holdable, nonjudgmental. 

"I'm afraid." Felix waits for the prompt and Orikko preens and says nothing. Felix continues anyways, feeling safe with nothing to rebel against, no reason to clamp down on his words. "I'm afraid I won't get it back."

"That's okay. It's okay to be afraid." 

"I'm supposed to be a hero. I'm supposed to be brave." 

"You bring bravery to others." 

"I must be brave to do that." His tone is wispy, melancholy, unsure whether he's asserting it or lamenting it, or being burdened by it. Or hoping for it. 

"You lend your strength to them." 

Felix does nothing but nod, feeling claustrophobic under the expectations. His breath tightens.

"So let me lend my strength to you. You give your bravery because you know what it means to be afraid, and to continue forward anyways." 

"I have to give it away?" He feels like a child, plaintive and betrayed, looking to a flying rooster for guidance. 

"No. You don't have to."

"What do I do, then?"