Wings

Shedding Feathers

All Wings molt at one point or another, because we all have feathers. Well, all proper Wings, at least. There are some with mixed heritage and others who dabbled in forbidden magics (Surtan, I'm looking at you) who do not. It's annoying as all get out, but we only molt like, maybe once every five years or so. It's different for every Wing. Of course, you have to have your wings out to molt, and Lo is famous for not having her wings out for years at a time. So yeah, she usually misses a molting period or two and the next time she spreads her wings, she has to shed feathers.

- Felicity

***

I was sitting on a metal bench and I summoned my wings, letting my fire magic flow through my veins and sighing as its comforting warmth enveloped me. Showing my wings was definitely tempting and the others indulged quite often. But I was treated with suspicion when my wings showed because my kind, the Fire Wings, have difficulty controlling their passions and desires, especially while they are allowing their magic to fill them up. I have found that it is so with all Wings, but Fire Wings especially. With that thought, I turned to my wings and ran my fingers through the feathers. Several detached and floated to the metal bench, where they sizzled slightly and became solid. I had learned quickly that my feathers could set things on fire if they landed on wood or cloth or something flammable. Once my wings were finished shedding feathers, I gathered them up and put them inside a locked iron box, locking it with a wave of my hand when I was finished. I then stretched out my wings, careful to not brush the wooden desk in this small room, and I allowed my wings to vanish. The magic left me and I shivered slightly, a small twinge of regret in my heart.

I then left the small room and entered my bedroom, wondering what I felt like doing today. I had already finished my latest painting of an elf frolicking in a meadow, the sort of painting that I enjoyed doing but rarely let anyone see. I passed by the mirror that hung across from the window that looked out into one of the many gardens in Althea, noting that my red hair was rather mussed and I might want to run a comb through it before I left for breakfast in the morning. I, like most Fire Wings, didn't need much sleep. I slept perhaps one night a week when I wasn't having sex, and that was enough for me.

Just then, there was a knock on my door. "Come in," I called.

A familiar blonde head poked into the room. It was Irene, bringing with her one of her golden apples that healed people. We weren't sure how she did it, but she had somehow turned an apple tree in the central garden of Althea into one that bore apples with healing powers. They also had anti-aging effects, which we didn't really need since we were Wings and were immortal anyway.

"Hi, Loki," she said softly, her pretty gray eyes meeting my green ones. She held out the apple to me, a sweet smile on her face. "I'm glad to see you haven't gotten hurt."

"Well, I'm glad too," I told her, an easy smile on my face. I took the apple from her and placed it on my nightstand. It would last about three months before it started to get a bit wrinkly, but it would still taste just fine and work just as well. It would never deteriorate to the point of rotting, though; I once let an apple sit for a decade to see what would happen. It just got really wrinkly, but sort of stopped after a year or so. It had actually tasted pretty sweet when I finally got around to eating it after I broke my arm falling from a tower.

"How's Felicity?" I asked Irene.

Irene paused for a moment to think. "She's... not happy," she finally said.

"What for?" I asked, wondering for a moment if she noticed I had stolen some of her molted feathers to create some feather-flashlights. They worked, but I didn't think Felicity would care about that detail particularly.

Irene tilted her head to the side, indicating that she wasn't really sure. "I think... maybe Sjanka wasn't nice. I don't understand her mutterings, though."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been sure that Felicity wouldn't notice some of her molted feathers being missing, and it seemed I had been proven correct. It was probably Sjanka Felicity was irritated with. The two sometimes didn't get along because Sjanka was Felicity's father's second bondmate. Complicated story, and one I didn't feel like getting into.

"How are the others?" I asked.

"Restless," she replied. Irene-speak, it could be anything from boredom to war preparations. In her world, there was little difference between the two.

In a sudden spark of inspiration, I decided to give Irene a present. I concentrated slightly and was rewarded when a rose appeared in my hand, summoned by a small orange flame. It probably smelt more like burnt embers than a rose, but its red color was actually very nice and I had gotten the green right this time around. I handed it to Irene and she blushed prettily, fingering the rose with a pale hand.

"Thank you, Loki," she said, her gray eyes peering at me through thick eyelashes. She then pecked me once on the cheek, ignoring the feverish heat of my skin, and wandered away, humming to herself. I carefully shut the door to my room, a smile on my face. I loved Irene. She was such a sweet person.