Young Writers Society

It was indeed a few hours later when they neared the city, and the sun was just beginning to set behind it as they approached from a hill overlooking to the cityscape. Zita caught her breath. It was beautiful. The tall curving buildings reached into the sky like the delicate fingers of a dancer. The glass and jewels glittered in the colorful glow of the setting sun, illuminating the mosaics that covered nearly every inch of the city in a burning red glow.

Smaller buildings lined the gilded roads, shops and homes often intermixed or combined in the fashion unique to Fable. Bright yellows and vibrant greens dominated the art covering the streets and buildings, the other colors of the spectrum becoming accents in a way that gave the impression of springtime and summer at the same time, when the weather was warm and the crops were sprouting and the plaza singers were just beginning to sing love songs in preparation for Winifred’s day, the Fabelian love holiday in honor of the legendary lady Winifred, who was said to have saved Fable by taking down a mer army on her own.

Zita took in the wonders of the city as they approached, her mouth hanging open in awe at the slowly waking city. Kivvien put a hand on her shoulder as they reached a dip in the road, the smaller buildings temporarily falling out of sight behind the next hill.

“Er,” He gestured awkwardly to her wing covering, “do mind if I straighten that out for you in the back?” He asked, rubbing his neck.

She blushed slightly, mostly because of his awkwardness rather than her own, “I, um, sure,” She responded after a slight pause and turned so her wings were facing him. She felt the fabric shifting against her thinning feathers and a slight tugging on the straps as Kivvien made sure all her feathers were covered, then the boy moved back around to her line of sight.

“Okay, erm, we should,” he gestured to the road. She gave a nod, not sure what to say, and they walked on.

Zita caught her breath as they got closer. The city was even more beautiful up close. Mosaics and murals covered everything, multicolored gems and glossy paints catching her eye as she passed, some of them even seeming to glow with magic. Street vendors were out calling customers to their shops with songs and dances, with hardly a frowning face in sight. Even at this early hour the streets were busy with all sorts of people. Smaller races walked or flew or even floated along the little elevated walkways built into the sides of the buildings, merpeople swam in the canal and through the water-filled glass tubes that extended along the walls of the shops, somehow managing to look graceful.

Giants walked among the hundreds of races that used the main road, too many for Zita to count. She saw fairies of all kinds, unla swirled in swarms overhead, looking like rainbow glitter that had somehow attained a mind of its own. Sisquivien wandered about with gloved hands and their incredible updos with their hair seeming to defy basic gravity as it formed the signature sculptures the race was so famous for. Zita saw more of her own kind, cyr, with their feathered wings covered like every other kind of fairy and their bright bird-like coloring.

Kivvien took her by the elbow and guided her along gently, seemingly consciously giving her plenty of chance to run away if she wanted to. His loose grip reminded her of her situation, and she snapped out of her awestruck wonder. She didn’t want to trust him. She had seen him kill after all. But he was her best bet if she wanted to find somewhere safe. She let him lead her, the endless debate still raging in her head.

To Zita’s surprise, Kivvien led them into one of the shops. It was near the town center, and Zita could see the infamous portal fountain in the plaza just down the street. She followed him without thinking, still sort of dazed from the overwhelming color and sound.

The shop was large and brightly lit, with teal floors that swirled with gold pathways, guiding the customers through the racks of clothing and shelves of bags that stretched for much further than the limits of the building appeared from the outside. Magic, Zita’s brain reminded her.

Kivvien released her elbow and went up to the register with a smile. The worker there, a squat, musty-green troll with a severe underbite and a hint of whiskers on his chin, grinned at him like an old friend and spread his arms, “Kivvien, my boy!” He exclaimed, receiving an equally enthusiastic grin from the boy in question.

“Kirk!” He said, spreading his arms as well, “Good to see ya buddy,” they hugged over the counter and pulled back, still grinning.

“What can I do fr’ ya kiddo?” The troll, Kirk, asked.

Kivvien gestured to Zita, “I seem to have com across a stray on my way here, you mind pointing me in the direction of Imani’s group?”

Kirk eyed Zita and she squirmed uncomfortably, feeling a bit too much like an object for her liking. She took a subconscious step back.

“Yeah,” He said finally, “They crossed over yesterday, I think they’re headed for Zane’s group, but ya never know with Imani,”

Kivvien nodded, “Yeah, she’s an unpredictable one. Thanks, Kirk, we gotta get going, see ya in three weeks,” He waved goodbye and led Zita out of the shop. Zita didn’t understand most of that, but she figured it would all be cleared up soon. Or at least, she hoped it would.

Kivvien led the way out of the shop and down the street, in the direction of the plaza. Zita’s heart sped up involuntarily. She had heard of the portal fountains most of her life, most big cities had them, but she had never seen them in person. They were beautiful, tall fountains, tall enough to fit the tallest giant inside in the center, with crystal mosaics covering the sides, depicting the world beyond, Chorismagia, the land without magic. Of course, the world had magic, it just didn’t know it. Though Zita couldn’t fathom how, she had heard the song ‘bohemian rhapsody’ and she could hear bits of siren song mixed into the lyrics loud and clear.

They entered the plaza through the growing crowds and approached the fountain. Zita spotted depictions of the strange wheeled vehicles they used to move about, cars she remembered they were called, powered by engines instead of magic, an almost unfathomable concept to Zita. She also saw the images of their architecture. The most beautiful buildings and sculptures were depicted on the stone, but the background was still silhouetted with the geometric shapes of their skyscrapers, which she knew from paintings were made of glass and steel and had very little artistry to their outward design.

Kivvien led her to the left of a depiction of the ‘Statue of liberty’ made of glittering green tiles and pulled her through the archway made for medium-sized beings. The waterfall that fell between the pillars poured over their heads, but Zita didn’t feel the wetness on her skin, nor the pressure of the water hitting her head. They got to the other side completely dry.

The inside of the circular chamber was dimly lit by the crystals on the walls, which spelled out instructions for how it worked. A table stood in the middle of the room, a stack of tiles laying on the corner and slots for them carved into the main surface. Kivvien went to the table and picked up the top tile, flipping it over in his fingers and staring down at the slots as if considering where to put it.

Zita cleared her throat, “So, erm, where are we going?” She asked.

Kivvien looked at the wall of instructions, then back at the table, “I’m not sure…” He glanced back at the wall, “I think America, but that’s a big place. My guess is they would be on the mainland, so not Hawaii or Alaska…” He trailed off. He seemed to have been speaking more to himself than Zita.

Kivvien suddenly jumped, “I got it!” He exclaimed and placed the tile, “Minnesota, cold this time of year, but quiet,” He placed a few more tiles, “I think Imani would head there next,” he placed the last tile and touched his finger to the glassy green gem at the top of the board. Instantly, the room lit up. Blinding white light filled Zitas vision for a flash and there was a gut wrenching sensation like being pulled off her feet but, as quick as it started, it was over. Zita blinked the stars from her vision and double over, clutching her now-sick stomach.

Kivvien came over to her side and handed her a water bottle, “Here, this’ll help,” she took it sceptically and took a sip. The liquid in side was bitter and tangy, but it drove away the sick feeling almost instantly.

She glared at Kivvien, “A little warning next time?”

He tried to conceal a smirk, “Sorry, I forgot it was like that for first-timers,”

“Well this ‘first-timer’ would like to know where we are,”

Kivvien offered her an arm, “Middle-of-nowhere Minnesota,” He chirped. She tentatively took his arm and followed him outside, barraging him with questions as they went, which he answered with annoying little quips and jokes.

As they left the room they appeared outside a rusted old silo, with a big green farmhouse several yards before them and a big red barn to their left, trees surrounding everything, and corn fields visible through the foliage.

Kivvien led her to the farmhouse as they talked, not really giving her anything substantial as answers to her questions, and constantly saying “I’ll tell you when we find Imani,”. As they went Zita began to notice that they weren’t alone. Whispers could be heard from the trees and children's laughter emanated from the barn. She heard a crash and jumped, head whipping around to look at the barn.

Kivvien seemed rather unconcerned, “Hey!” He called, “Don’t hurt yourselves!” the laughter cesed and gave way to excited chattering. The big barn door slowly squeaked to the side and a little kids face popped out, followed by three others, one on top of the other like a cartoon.

“Kiv!” They all screeched at once and the door slid the rest of the way, giving way to a tidal wave of children. The wave crashed into Kivvien just as Zita jumped out of the way and she watched in amusement as the kids swarmed him, chattering and asking questions rapid fire while Kivvien just laughed and answered the occasional query.

“Okay, okay, okay,” He said, pulling himself back to his feet and pulling a troll child off his chest, “Where’s mother goose?” He asked, crouching down and huddling with the kids like they were a football team discussing a game plan. The kids giggled and pointed to the farmhouse with squeaky cries of, “She’s over there!” and “She’s making dinner!” in several languages.

Kivvien grinned and thanked them, then straightened out and offered Zita his arm once again, “Shall we see what’s for dinner?” He asked in a southern drawl.

Zita had to force herself not to giggle like the gaggle of children around them and took his offered arm, “Lead the way,” she said, mimicking his accent with limited success.

He grinned, forcing Zita to notice the little dimples on his cheeks. She forced that thought from her head and schooled her features into a neutral expression, or at least that’s what she hoped it was, there was a good chance she just looked slightly less amused.

They made their way to the farmhouse, Zita releasing Kivviens arm when he decided to skip to amuse the children, or just to amuse himself, and wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the early spring chill. It was then she began to really realize where she was. She had heard of Chorismagia of course, but then it had been but a story, a place she would only see in pictures and her own imagination. Now she was here, the land without magic, where her own people were considered just stories, and she was the anomaly. She shuddered. She had heard the stories of what these people did to anomalies. She knew Minnesota was in the U.S.A., and the stories of this place were awful. The trail of tears, slavery, all the civil rights movements and petty wars over race and beliefs that had been fought in this world was sickening, and she didn’t want to be part of another one.

They got up to the farmhouse and climbed the steps on the white wrap-around porch and knocked on the door. A second later it opened to a girl about Zita’s age wearing long white gloves and a large floppy sun hat of the same color. She smiled, revealing a set of long fangs, “Look who decided to show up,” She drawlled, though her eyes were laughing.

Kivvien grinned again, seriously did he ever stop smiling, and responded good naturedly, “Well, I had to pick up this pretty girl on the way,”

Zita glared at him and the girl snorted, “Come on in, my name’s Emily,” She said, extending a hand.

Zita accepted the handshake, “Zita,” She introduced herself.

Kivvien led her inside and her eyes were immediately assaulted by the busiest room she had ever seen. Children spanning the ages of infancy to late teens were everywhere. Young fairies tumbled around in the air, other kids ran around on the ground. Some vampire boys scurried around on the ceiling playing some kind on anti-gravity dice game while some mermaid girls ran about in human form tossing foam blocks at each other.

Kivvien guided her through the chaos to the back of it all where the kitchen was surprisingly kid-free save for the older teens helping out with dinner and the young ones setting the almost comically long main table and the smaller plastic fold out ones that were set out, one of them was even bolted to the ceiling. A woman stood next to the stove stirring an overly large pot with one hand and adding ingredients to a saucepan with the other. Large dragonfly wings fluttered on her back as she worked, twitching ever so slightly as she muttered recipes under her breath.

“Imani!” Kivvien called, jogging to her side and busying herself with the dishes to her left.

The dark skinned woman barely glanced at him as she worked, but her smile was obvious in her voice, “Kiv, good to see you dear, do you mind handing me that bottle there,” She pointed to a plastic water bottle filled with thick red liquid.

Kivvien nodded and handed it over, “I ran into Zita here on my way over, the brutes almost got her, but I took care of them,”

Imani looked over her shoulder at Zita, who was standing awkwardly in the kitchens entryway. She offered a kind smile, “You’re Zita?” She asked, Zita nodded, “Well, come over here dear, I could use some help with the cooking if you wouldn’t mind,”

Zita gave a tentative smile, “Sure,” She said in a small voice and shuffled over to the counter where Imani instructed her to chop carrots to her right.

“So, where are you from?” Imani asked gently as she measured out whatever was in the bottle and added it to the sauce.

“Erm,” She glanced at Kivvien, who nodded encouragingly, quickly reprimanding herself for seeking Kivviens approval, and answered, “Fable,” Her voice was an embarrassing little squeak and she mentally face palmed herself for it.

Imani didn’t seem to notice and continued on, “That’s wonderful, lovely country Fable, I regret not being able to spend more time there,”

“Why can’t you?” Zita blurted out before she could stop herself.

Imani gave a sad smile, “The kids and I gotta keep moving, we can’t stay in the same place for too long ‘else those rotten slave traders will get their hand on ‘em,” She cast a loving look at the chaotic children through the doorway, “Or the chorismagians’ll get them, and that’s not much better, not here. The American foster system is awful, not to mention most of the kids have wings or drink blood, or just straight up can’t pass for human,” She picked up a ladle and took a sip of the soup. She gestured for Kivvien to help her move the pots onto the table and picked up the biggest one herself, hefting it with a surprising amount of strength for her thin arms, “Help me with the pork chops would you dear,” She said, inclining her head to the pan on the backburner that was lined with dozens of fairly large chops. Zita nodded and used a towel to pick up the hot pan upon instruction from Imani, who hefted the giant soup-filled pot all the way to the table with little difficulty.

Zita carried the pork chops to the table with difficulty. Trying to weave her way through the throngs of people without burning any of them or herself on the pan proved to be more trouble than it looked, but she finally made it without incident. By that point almost everyone was seated and all the seats were filled, some kids were even on the floor with plates in their laps, or the same way on the ceiling.

Imani clapped to get everyone's attention and the room quieted, “Today we will be eating with a special guest,” she gestured to Zita, who was standing against the wall trying to blend in as much as possible, “This is Zita--” a chorus of “His Zita” rang out in multiple languages, “-- She will be the first to eat, as she is new.” Imani gestured to the empty seat next to her, which Zita hadn’t noticed before, and she scurried over, not comfortable with all eyes on her.

Imani took her ladle and served Zita some soup and a porkchop, along with a rice dish she didn’t recognize. Her stomach rumbled and the kids giggled. Zita turned bright red with embarrassment as she realized she hadn’t eaten in over a day.

Imani chuckled and finished serving her meal, then clapped again to regain the attention of her wards, “Now, one at a time as always, after dinner we will have lessons, then we’ll have a quick story and it’s off to bed,” Cheers erupted from the kids at the mention of a story, then they were chattering away, one person at a time serving themselves on either side of the large table, then the smaller tables, until everyone was eating and chatting and creating a din so loud Zita wondered how they heard each other. But on they talked, unperturbed by the laws of sound.

Imani saw the look on her face and laughed, leaning on close to shout, “You get used to it, they’re more chatty than usual today because of you,” She laughed again, the smile lines on her face wrinkling as her laughter joined the din. Zita couldn’t help but smile. She had lived with the Striker family for a long time, as long as she could remember, and she couldn’t remember laughing like that, just a happy, carefree, laugh had never sprung from her lips. She couldn’t remember excited chatter like this, just kid being kids, being loud and obnoxious, and happy because of a meal made with care, rather than slices of bread thrown at them with half a thought and calling that dinner.

She frowned down at her plate and picked up a fork. She tried the rice dish absently as she thought. Was she going to stay here? There were already too many kids to fit at the table, so would they take her? Were there other places like this where she could go? Could she trust these people if they let her stay? Yes. That last question was one she could answer with certainty. Imani was a very dark skinned woman with dragonfly wings and three dozen small children in her care, if three was anyone she could trust it was her. Kivvien was the problem. Zita supposed she just got attached too easily, but she didn’t want to see him go. From what she’d observed, he would be leaving again soon enough, and she would be left here, or maybe she would be leaving with him, and he would leave her somewhere else. That was the problem, she didn’t know.

Someone nudged her shoulder and she jumped, almost flinging her fork across the room. “Whoa, whoa, it just me,” Kivvien held his hands up in surrender, “You like the food?” He asked, gesturing to her plate.

It took Zita a second to process his words, “Oh! Yeah, it’s good,” she put the fork down to avoid poking someone's eye out.

“You sure, you were staring at it like you wanted it to spontaneously combust,”

Zita shook her head, “No, I was just...thinking,” She looked back down at her plate.

Kivvien took a bite of his rice. “Oh, what about?” He asked once he’d swallowed.

Zita raised an eyebrow at him, “I just ran away from my foster family, I have only a vague idea of where I am, and I have no clue what’s going to happen next,”

Kivvien frowned, “I thought it was obvious. You’re in rural Minnesota, at Imani’s kid stop, where, if you so choose, you will be staying as long as you need,”

Zita looked at him in surprise, “You mean…”she trailed off, her eyes wandering over the horde of children.

Kivvien gave that amused smile, “Yep, as long as you need,” he repeated.

Zita didn’t know what to say, so she had some more soup. She and Kivvien ate in silence for a a few minutes, listening idly to the chatter around them, until Zita spoke up, “What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“Yeah, where are you going?”

Kivvien shrugged, “There are more kid stops, I guess I’ll go protect those. I mean, it’s what I’ve been doing for years now, why stop now,”

Zita shrugged, “Why would you need you protect them, from who?”

Kivvien leaned closer to her so she could hear better, “Those people from the road, they raid kid stops like this one, they were probably trying to find one when you met them. They worked for some bad people, like, enslaving kids bad,” One of the little kids tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to him with a smile and was immediately the animated overgrown child Zita saw he was when he was talking to the kids.

The meal ended and everyone pitched in to clean up, a few teens teaming up to do the dishes, the younger kids helping to clear and wash the table, and some of the others cleaning the floor, until the place was spotless. Then everyone split into age groups and headed to different parts of the house. Zita stood off to the side awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Kivvien approached her after he finished helping out with the dishes, “Hey,” He greeted, “You can come to lessons with me if you want,” She shrugged and followed him to a doorway near the kitchen, which opened onto a staircase and they climbed up to the attic, passing through two other floors before taking a pull-down staircase into a wide room with a slanted ceiling and pair of identical circular windows on either side of the room. They appeared to be the last to arrive because a bunch of kids, all of them about thirteen to sixteen, were sitting on various pieces of furniture and blankets, and Emily was on the ceiling with another pair of kids, one looked like another vampire, and the other looked human for the most part, save for the glowing flower crown on his head.

“Kiv!” Several of them cheered when he entered and gestured for him to sit with them. He smiled and sat down next to a cyclops boy on the ratty couch in the corner, right under the kids on the ceiling. He dragged Zita after him, and soon she was squeezed up against him and the arm of the couch, chatting with Emily about the fountain portals.

Eventually the oldest of them stood up after a few other kids arrived. “Afternoon,” She greeted, flicking her platinum braid over her shoulder, “It’s biology day,” a mix of groans and cheers from the others, “Yeah, yeah, anyway, since we’re in Chorismaia, we’ll be studying their biology, so, ecosystems, let’s go,” She launched into a very long, not all together boring, lesson on the relationships between plant life and animal life. A few long hours later, after a few displays of casual magic that absolutely fascinated Zita to summon papers and pens and to draw pictures in the air, the lesson was over and everyone had a few pages of notes in their hands.

The girl, who had introduced herself as Kathy once she realized Zita had no clue who she was, finished explaining the whole concept again to a troll boy, and went back to the front of the room and clapped twice sharply. Everyone fell silent and turned to look at her.

Kathy shushed a trio who were still talkin and turned to face the main group, “It’s story night!” She exclaimed after a long silence. Everyone cheered, except Zita, who was still obtuse to what was going on.

“Put your notes with your things, see y’all downstairs!” More cheering and the students rushed for the door, leaving Zita as to only one who walked. It wasn’t hard to figure out where she was going, all she had to do was follow the sounds of pounding feet and excited chatter. So, using that method, she found herself in the playroom she had first seen when she entered the house, now somehow cleared of all mess.

Imani was sitting on a rocking chair with a little violet skinned baby sucking a bottle in her lap. She waved Zita into the room with her usual smile and addressed the crowd of kids who sat at her feet.

“Tonights story starts long ago, before the first monarchs claimed their lands, back when the people used long forgotten spells,” The heavy grey curtains drew closed, the slightest hint of a magenta glow at the edges of the fabric, “In that time,” Imani continued in the near dark, “there was a beast,” Some of the younger kids gasped, “his name was Rinpolon. He terrorized the land, stealing away the children until there were none left, only adults,” She paused and adjusted the baby in her arms, “Now, at first the people were fine, heartbroken over their lost children, but they believed that they would be fine, they could just have more children, all would be well,” She lowered her voice and the children leaned in as one, “but no more children were born,” there were gasps once again, even though Zita was beginning to suspect the kids had heard this story before.

Imani sat back up in her chair and adjusted the bottle, “Rinpolon has gotten his claws on the Crows Call,” more gasping and a few squeaks. Zita thought she was supposed to know what that was, but she didn’t interrupt, “He was using it to make sure no more children could be born, and so, years later, when the strongest of those who were left was old and weak, he struck. He took over every land with ease,” the baby shoved away the bottle and wailed, so Imani pulled him to her chest and bounced him up and down while humming a lullaby. The baby fell asleep, “It was years later, when Rinpolon himself was old and weak, when the first kings and queens struck him down and took hisland. All has been as it is since,” She concluded and the blinds opened to reveal the sinking sun behind the pine trees.

“Now, off to bed, Emily, show Zita to the triplets room for now,” Emily dropped from her seat above them and landed with a graceful roll, hopping up to her feet right in front of Zita. She flicked a strand of her caramel colored hair out of her face and waved Zita after her toward the stairs, “Come on then,” She called over her shoulder.

Zita scapered after her up the stairs and followed her to the second floor. At some point Emily had gotten sick of walking on the ground and decided to hop between the doorframes on the wall, “So,” she said to break the silence, “how’d you meet Kiv?”

Zita fiddled with the strap of her messenger bag, “Erm, he, kinda, er, saved me, on the road,” Her eyes wandered about the hall, scanning over anything that wasn’t the little smirk on the vampires face.

“Did he now?” She teased.

Zita turned bright red, “Stop that! I don’t even trust him!”

Emily frowned and hopped onto the ground, “Why not?”

“I-well he-he...he killed someone…” Zita stuttered.

Emily’s frown deepened, “So? He’s a protector, it’s what he does. He hunts down the slavers, and he stops them however he can,”

“He kills them,”

Emily shrugged, “Yeah, but it’s us or them, so might as well be them,”

Zita shook her head, “What do you mean, ‘us or them’ what do they do that makes them worthy of death?”

Emily’s face darkened, “I thought it was obvious,” she said in a low voice, “they take us, sell us, sometimes kill us, we call them ‘slavers’, but ‘murderers’ is a closer description,”

Zita didn’t know how to respond, luckily she didn’t have to, because right then they arrived at a plain looking doorway, save for the cheap little name tags with the names ‘Lily’, ‘Kinsy’, and ‘Sammy 3’ scrawled onto them in crayon.

“This is it,” Emily says, knocking on the door.

“What’s with the ‘Sammy 3’ thing?” Zita asks.

“Oh, Sammy is a pretty common name, there are five of them here, and Sammy here dubbed himself number three, since he was the third Sammy to join us,” the door creaked open and a little mop of green hair appeared in the doorway.

“What’s the password?” A little girl's voice said from inside the room.

The green haired kid leaned forward and Emily bent down, Zita followed suit a beat later, “Elephant,” He whispered conspiratorially.

Emily grinned at him and stood up, “Elephant!” She called.

There was grumbling from the little girl and she called, “Fine, come in!” The little boy opened the door and skipped inside with the older girls following after. There were four beds lined up against one wall and toys of every kind were strewn about the room. Two identical girls sat on one of the bed, both with grassy green hair like their brothers, which they were twisting into braids and securing with little plastic clips. The boy went over to them and joined them on the bed, immediately helping to twist a lock of his sisters hair into a little bun on the side of her head and sticking bobby pins into it so it resembled a pincushion.

“Hey Lilly!” Emily greets, “Kinsy, Sammy 3,”

“Hi Emily,” they chorus.

“Zita is going to be staying in your room for now, is that okay?” She asks tossing a foam ball from one hand to the other, when did she pick that up?

One of the girls answers, “Okay, but she has to sleep on the end bed,”

“Of course,” Emily turns back to Zita, “You want me to help you get that wing cover off or are you okay?”

Zita considers it, “Could you help?” She says finally deciding she didn’t want to do it herself. Emily nods and walks around to Zitas back so she can undo the clips at the base of her wings. Zita hears the click of the clasps releasing and feels the straps loosen around her shoulders. The mass of fabric falls to the ground in a heap and Zitas wings are revealed in all their ratty glory. She hears Emily suck in a breath and she tenses.

“What happened?” Emily asks quietly. Zita’s eyes flick to the toddlers on the bed, who had now moved on to braiding Sammys hair but had their hands frozen in place and eyes glued to Zita. she knew her wings were in a sorry state, what with her feathers constantly being ripped out and dirtied by her adopted siblings.

“I had siblings,” She say simply and pulls her wings in closer to her body as if to hide them from sight. Emily looked like she wanted to say something else, but she just gave a little forced smile and told Zita her room was just down the hall if she needed anything.

So Zita was left alone with the triplets. She helped them untangle the clips from their hair before they went to bed. Zita slept peacefully, feeling safer among strangers then she had in her lifelong home.