"I..." He's about to say that his can't, but he's honest to a fault and he can't recall if he's ever tried. "I don't know. You'd have to make the edges really thin and hard..."

Iuliael unfurls a wing that had been clasped against him acting like clothing. It does have the look of cloth, sort of, or some kind of tissue anyway, cut in patterns and laid to imitate the feathered wing of a bird. The eyes in it look like printed patterns or a butterfly's eyespots, which is probably an improvement on earlier, when his less-human shapes had sported actual eyeballs.

He reaches that wing out and the 'feathers' curve and crook like clawed fingers. Iuliael grasps and pulls on a woody vine, scoring it deeply and making it shift a bit. This is not the razor-wing Ash described, but on the other hand he's not impaling himself on thorns.