Cam is dipping a grilled cheese sandwich into a bowl of tomato soup when he feels the summons. He goes ahead and grabs it. Doesn't even drop the sandwich.
"Oh well. I have a few more pairs you can try if you want, and if you really want to try as many as possible, I know how to make even more and I'd just need to gather the materials."
"It's not a looming inadequacy in my life. I got along with my original pair for an unbroken century and a half. But I'll go ahead and try what you've got on hand."
She leaves the crafted Cam-wings on the desk and goes to retrieve two more pairs of miniaturized wings: one which look very much like harpy wings, and one which look very weird and vaguely fairyish.
The other wings have a light, delicate texture like goldfish tails. The smaller sub-wings that sit lower than the main set can be moved independently. Both the main and the smaller wings are more sensitive to slight air movements than the harpy and flame versions, and either because of their lightness or for Terraria reasons they float in the air like fins trailing in water. They are pale blue at the base, shading to nearly white at the thinnest edge.
"The fin wings are pretty, but they drove me crazy," she says. "I can't quite decide whether they look silly or beautiful on you."
"I'm invariably lovely," says Cam loftily. "I think I like the flame better. These aren't going to help my balance at all, too light. Harpy ones make me feel like an angel."
"Cool. I trip over things that don't exist without wings. I do it with them too, but less," says Cam, putting the flames back on. "And these are so cuddly."
"If you cover your house in snow blocks, it'll get cold. If you cover it in sand blocks, it'll get warm."
"Do you want to give me an extra tail so I can see if I can craft it into something wingish?"
"Sure, I can take mine off before I come over for lunch? Bonus points if you can make me a fire tail."
"I'm kind of surprised that you're not - I don't know, clingier, after eight years of all NPCs all the time. I guess if you were the sort of person who desperately needed to socialize you wouldn't've held up this well, so you got used to the loneliness? But not the limited diet?"
"Complaining to myself about the food is a comforting pastime. Complaining to myself about the lack of real people... really isn't."