Sable winced, looking away. "It's fun to most to toy with our prey...but in my case, I enjoy actually hunting. Stalking my prey and finding my target. I like best going without weapons completely and taking down clawed and fanged beasts in a more fair match. I like testing their intelligence and their strength. I give respect to any animal I hunt that I cannot catch and/or kill."
She noted his cringe. He must not have anticipated that question…After hearing his answer—which was a nice save on his part—she tried to piece together what she knew of his people. Then, she imagined a human trying to catch a deer barehanded—it didn’t go too well for the poor imagined soul. “I have no way of knowing, of course. But I’m under the assumption that whatever phenomenon causes humans to appear in this world was probably initiated on my planet. Or, it’s concealed so well here that even your advanced senses could not locate it.”
"Well it's believed that whatever it is, it goes both ways, transporting our kind to your world on rare occasions." Sable told her. "There are plenty of legends on it. Which actually, looking at legends is probably our best chance of getting you back home."
She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. “If that’s the case, so be it. I’m game for whatever works.”
Sable fell silent, cooking the meat simply to an edible point. His kind wasn't as concerned with flavor as humans. They didn't use spices except on things that truly tasted bad.
A silence filled the room. Lynn did little more than periodically stare at various elements of the room, lost in thought. She was trying desperately to remember. Her father was a scientist; she figured that might have something to do with it. Maybe something had gone wrong when she was visiting the lab. She sighed. It was pointless information if she didn’t know exactly what went wrong.
"So are all humans like you in appearance?" Sable asked suddenly. "I mean generally, of course, I'd expect your kind to have variety like my own."
She nodded. “As far as general anatomy, yes. We’re all pretty similar,” she refrained from going into detail. It was a habit, but one he didn’t seem to like. She could see how it would sound like she was dumbing it down, but she didn’t mean to treat him like he was completely ignorant.
"So generally...humans are like the wingless here, only without fangs and of a weaker, more fragile build?" Sable asked, trying to figure it out.
She smiled, “That pretty much sums it up. Although, a few people actually file their teeth to make fangs,” she laughed, “it’s not real common, though.”
"And I know from stories of past humans, not all of you are weaklings..." Sable mumbled. "There's a story of a man who came a few decades ago. He faced several of us in fights, and was only defeated by our best champion..."
“There are definitely strong humans in my world,” she said, “Not just brute force, either. Sometimes even the weak ones are smart enough to triumph with what advantages they have,” she paused, “Like me for instance. I’m quite positive I’ve deduced a weak point in a good fraction of your people,” she said confidently. Her theory may not be correct…but it could be.
Sable quirked a brow, taking interest. "Is that so? And what weak point have you found in us?" He asked curiously.
Happy to share her theory, she hopped off the couch to join him in the kitchen. “It’s quite interesting, actually. It’s your wings,” she smiled, “You told me the process of removing them would be very painful, indicating they are a vulnerable part of your body. I received additional evidence supporting this when I arrived here—from my observations, most males of your species don’t wear shirts. You did, and you showed discomfort despite having space between it and your wings. Also, assuming they are similar to the insect wings of my world, they are slightly weakened when in contact with water. I think you’ve adapted to overcome that, mostly, but still…there’s a slight effect.” She watched him closely; curious to see if her observations where correct.
Sable frowned, taking it all in. "Well...you're partly right, although that theory is in need of a bit of adjustment..." He scraped the cooked meat onto two plates and turned to her as it cooled. "You see, our wings are very tough and durable. Water doesn't make them any more sensetive to damage. Water does, however make us more sensetive to pain." He leaned against the counter. "Beyond the water thing, the only real weakness is in the base of the wings, where they come into our back. There are extremely sensetive nerves there, and any roughness against them causes great discomfort, and in some cases excruciating pain."
She considered this new information. “I see; that explains why it is not a particular issue in battle. Such a small part, shielded by the rest of the wings is a difficult spot to reach undeterred. I guess I’m still unable to defend myself,” she crinkled her brow, “Though it was not completely accurate, I think it was a good attempt for such little research.”
"No, I'm actually surprised by how accurate you were." Sable told her. "Most of our own kind can't seem to figure that out. I never thought of it much myself until you brought it up."
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s odd. It seems like the wingless would benefit from the revelation. Not only do they not share the weakness, most would be swift enough to reach their opponent’s backside; assuming they were well informed and prepared to do so.” Shrugging, she continued on, “It’s not much. I had to observe and analyze to keep my sanity, and it seemed the best mystery to piece together at the time.”
"Those without wings are wingless by a birth defect. They're also weaker and slower than us." Sable told her.
She had abandoned her previous train of thought for a new one. “Though they are a minority, it’s interesting that so many would be plagued with the same birth defect,” she mused, “usually there is some variation…It would probably be possible to determine the defective gene and treat those with that strand of DNA during pregnancy. It could be cured, for future generations, at least.” She stopped, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”