“You’ve been staring out that window all day.” Avarice commented.

“I miss the ocean.” It’s been about two weeks since I’d first been dragged here.

“It’s snowing.”

“Still.”

A soft tapping sound drew my attention.

“I should go.”

I snap my head towards him. “What do you even do?”

“Well, one could say I’m a debt collector but that’s not all I can do,” It was then I noticed Avarice drumming his fingers against a table, sharp nails chipping away at the wood, his face immersed in silent contemplation. “If you’re so desperate, I could show you.”

“What kind of psycho is proud to be a murderous thief?”

He did not look impressed. “I’m not bloodying my hands today. I’m just visiting Alpine, he couldn’t give two shits about you or your sparkly feathers.”

He stood, gesturing for me to follow. I trotted after him, eager to rid of this place, when he caught me by the elbow just before the door.

“Wait a moment,” he muttered, plucking something from his pocket. Forcing up the sleeves of my sweater and button up shirt to tie a satin green ribbon around my wrist.

“What is this?”

“A property marker.”

“Excuse Me?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Only I can remove it, so don’t even try, but it’ll dissuade any daring underlings from trying to sell you off to one of my siblings. You’re virtually worthless to anyone but me now.”

“Okay, fine, what else?”

“As a precaution, we should disguise you.”

“This’ll be interesting,” I flexed my wings, immediately regretting it. “How do you intend to do that?”

Avarice’s lips curled into a grin. “Not everything has to be so complicated.”

Avarice took down a porcelain jar of cobalt gel, turning on me with an outstretched hand.

“Wait!” I startled back. “What is that?”

“Chretta. Now, if you don’t mind, I need you to take your shirt off.” He snorted at the face I made. “You’re misreading my intentions.”

Begrudgingly I stripped off my sweater and button up. Figure I could just give him a hard slap if he tries anything.

“Damn, you are covered in freckles.” Then added, in defense. “Hey, It’s not like they’re ugly.”

There was no time to answer. The gel was ice cold, bleeding blue across my skin from wherever Avarice’s hand passed over until my whole body tingled with it. His face morphed into something between shock and intrigue.

The only thing left untouched, when I saw myself in the mirror, were my eyes. My skin had changed color, freckles completely absent, hair straightened out and bleached an off white to match my skin. My wings lacked their feathers leaving behind the classic bat-like wings of the classic ignaisin. I ran clawed fingers over the bent up horns that now sat atop my head. They’re real! How is this possible?

“Dear Goddess, what is this dark sorcery?”

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“And yet my eyes are the same.”

He shrugged. “Chretta works in strange ways, it can only do so much.”

“Tell me there is a way to remove this, or so help me Lady Ivory-”

“It washes off, so be careful of rain and try not to cry too much.”

“I’m not going to cry.” I growled.

“Of course.” A wry smile pinned to his cheeks.

The front parlor was not far from Avarice’s atelier. The world outside that suffocatingly green and black mansion held more color than a meadow in spring, brighter color, more beautiful colors. Dynamic, strangely shaped towers decorated in gargantuan exotic flowers. Dragon sprites fluttering above and skittering across painted cobblestone roads.

Avarice elbowed me. “Ogling my city are we?”

Obviously, I elbowed him back.

Passing from one city to the next, the colors shifted from pleasant to garish. Deep plum trimmed in gold everything. At least the building still sustained their natural stone greys. For all I knew, this was the consequences of living my entire life on an island of dull whites and pale blues. Back then there wasn’t enough color but now there’s too much.

Avarice cast a glance at me, I loathed how amused he was with my suffering. Jostling him only made him laugh harder. “Something wrong little bird?”

“Curses, this is worse than a smack of neon jellyfish on a moonless night.”

Avarice cleared his throat, regaining composure in a matter of seconds. “I anticipate your reaction to Alpine, it’ll be the highlight of my day.”

A sudden pang of panic seized me. What did he mean?

My face cringed horribly at the overwhelming smell that hit me like a sky whale the second I crossed the threshold of a small castle. How Avarice withstood it, only the moon herself knows.

I scanned the hall of whatever hell hole this new environment was. Too busy, everything clashed with gilded luxury. I hated it all. And here I thought Avarice’s abode was unbearable but at least he was organized.

I buried my nose in the collar of my sweater, blinking through my watery eyes, it didn’t help much but it was enough.

Avarice led me down equally flashy corridors, lined with states of the same lion-like ignaisin, each wearing something more outlandish than the last, until we arrived at a fancifully carved door. Avarice pushed through, the door nearly slamming my wings behind me, and strolled in the middle of a mosaic tile floored sitting room.

A man who the statues must have been modeled after perched on a bench painting a canvas three times my size, other paintings lay propped against furniture around the room. He hopped down, gently placing his paints on the splattered sheets of paper carpeting the floor the moment he saw Avarice and crossed the room in four long strides, a garish, fur trimmed dark-violet cloak flourished with his steps. He was dressed head to toe in the same gold-plum brocade velvet and shiny black boots that clacked against the marble, echoing off the walls. He must be Alpine, I guessed.

“Avarice, you fiery freak, and your little friend, come see what I’ve been working on,” Alpine snatched up their wrists and hauled them toward his painting. “It’s taken me 3 days to get this far.”

It was of a fair skinned woman, standing tall on a cliff with a raised sword which burned a furious white, dark brown hair on the verge of black and three pairs of sparkly midnight feathered wings; a goddess of some kind. Alpine went on lamenting every little flaw I failed to notice, though I was hardly paying any attention to him at all.

“Who is she?”

My voice ended Alpine’s rambling. He scoffed. “That is The Fallen herself, in fact, it is a gift to her. How do you not recognize our own goddess?”

“He’s never seen her.” Avarice countered for me. I nodded, it was true either way.

“Well,” He huffed. “I’ll just have to introduce you someday, she is the most wonderful woman on the planet, you’ll love her.”

I said nothing.

“That doesn’t look very much like her.” Avarice mused.

“That’s because you have no taste in art! Dragons are overrated.” Alpine wheeled on me. Irritation bleeding through his tone. “What do you think? I’m great, right?”

“It’s lovely- I mean, I can’t paint or draw for the life of me so I think it’s pretty good.”

His face reddened immediately, spluttering a few mangled sounds. “Erm- of course it’s good! At least someone around here has a decent pair of eyes!”

Avarice eyed me strangely. I shrugged, what else did he want me to say?

Alpine’s well-groomed hands came down on my shoulders. “My sweet, sweet, little dragon, Avarice better keep an eye on you or I might just steal you away.”

“I… Thank you?”

He gave his brother a cheeky sidelong look. “I’d kill to have someone around to feed my ego all day but I don’t think Avarice would let me-” The malevolent Avarice retaliated with, had Alpine withering. “Ah! Had Addanc told you about his new courtier, she’s a real menace.”

“Stop wasting my time. I know didn’t just summon me to spread some more rumors.”

“Ok! Sheesh, I needed to ask a favor of Sir Scales.”

“I knew you were dumb but I never took you for a complete idiot.”

“Fuck off, I just need you to get my Trire off Morfran. The Lazy sloth never returned it like he promised.”

“That’s a lot harder than you realize, Morefran isn’t easy to threaten.”

“Which is exactly why you’re the perfect guy to do it.”

Avarice tapped his arm. “Alright.”

“”Great! Now, what is your price?”

“I’ll let you know when i need something.”

“What? Oh come on, what if i give something away and you come asking for it an hour later?”

“It won’t be physical, otherwise the trade wouldn’t be fair.”

Alpine pouted. “Ugh! Fine! Just go get me my Trire.”

“Tomorrow.”

Alpine shooed us away.

I tugged on Avarice’s sleeve once we were outside the insufferable castle. “What is a ‘Trire?’”

“You won’t like it.” He answered much too quickly.

We stepped into his dark room. Avarice closed the door but the candles went unlit, drowning the room in darkness save for a strange blue glow. Hands twirled me around.

“What the- you’re eyes are glowing.” The candles burst into light. “Why do they do that?”

How should I know? They’ve been like that my whole life, so were my mother's.”

Avarice crossed his arms, drumming his fingers.

He tipped his toward a door I hadn't been through yet. “There’s a tub in there, go wash off the Chretta.”

There was a towel hung up next to a pool set in the tiled floor and a wall lined with shelves displaying an assortment of small bowls and bottles. At least there was a bar of soap, I’d rather not find out which of those was liquid Geobage.

I pushed back the curtain to Avarice’s bedroom when I finished. Like he said, water had rinsed away the effects of chretta, though some drops of stained water still clung to my hair. A few dragon sprites clambered across the plane of sheets of Avarice’s bed, some still pulling themselves over the edges to wedge themselves against him like a litter of puppies. A few stretched, others yawning and they coiled up like snakes or nose their way between the folds of his clothes.

“Why do they do that?”

“They like to keep me company, I make them feel safe.” Avarice idly scratched the head on one curled up under his arm. His eyes flickered to me. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous of anything.”

“You’re welcome to join us if the carpet isn’t soft enough for you.”

I glared. “You know what’s funny to me?” He startled me. “You birds are so afraid of being grounded that you don’t realize just how much we fear for our horns.”

I remember the ignaisin horns temple knights mounted their walls or decorated their tables with.

“Rest assured that I don’t need or want anyone’s head spikes.”

“That, in itself, already makes you better than most.”