They're feathers, Stephen. They don't feel pain. [Even as he says this, though, he feels where feather within Stephen's hand strains against his skin. He shudders bodily, but makes no move to shy away or vocalize any desire to stop.
Stephen will find rather quickly that his efforts aren't doing much. Sure, it clears away whatever dust has accumulated over the course of the day, but the color is just as sallow and sickly as ever.]
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Stephen will find rather quickly that his efforts aren't doing much. Sure, it clears away whatever dust has accumulated over the course of the day, but the color is just as sallow and sickly as ever.]