[As Waver sits, the feathers on Kanade's wings rustle; It's not similar to any sort of threat display, more like... the way birds puff up when they're nervous. Thankfully, she doesn't scoot away or eye him with any wariness, but she does glance down at her crooked wings, running a hand over the bent feathers.]

I don't know if they're broken. I was careful not to bump into anything or roll over. They were just...

[A bitter feeling chews at her gut. The irony here isn't lost on her.]

I think they grew in like this.