Wreathed in Sin, Wrought by Destiny

Chapter Two

When the boy came to, he knew exactly two things for sure: one, he was finally out of that goddamn armor, and two, he was also no longer on the floor. Both were blessings, seeing as he'd been traveling for almost a year now in that horrible armor, and he hadn't slept on a proper bed in ages.

He kept his eyes shut a moment longer, reveling in the softness of the mattress, before opening his eyes and slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. He blinked green eyes slowly, rubbing at them with a dirt-smudged hand before glancing around the room. It seemed nice—small, but homey and warm, with bright colors and a lot of light in it.

There was also a girl with silver hair that cascaded down her back, and sharp blue eyes that glinted in the sunlight. Four wings—wings, like the kind the Goddess Clan was famous for, except not the pure white he was used to from the paintings and tapestries—were folded behind her back, feathers an inky blue-black. She reached up and he yelped in surprise as her fingers found his throat, pressing down slightly. "What—who—"

She retracted her hand and gave him a small smile. "You're in the Boar Hat, my tavern. You walked in and just collapsed, so I thought I should check your vitals. Sorry if I startled you."

He blinked, before grinning sheepishly. So that's what she was doing. Wait, she didn't answer my second question, though...maybe she will later? "N-no, it's fine. I was just startled is all."

"Yeah, like you startled away all my good paying customers," the girl grumbled, but her tone was good-natured.

He apologized quickly, before furrowing his brow. "Wait, you're....the owner?" She had said that the tavern—the Boar Hat?—was hers, but the sword on her back....maybe she was a raider who'd taken over the place.

"Is that so surprising?"

"No! I just...I saw the sword and assumed..." He flushed a bit, embarrassed (something that didn't exactly happen often).

"What, this old thing?" With a chuckle, the girl reached across her back and pulled it free with a sharp shhing! of metal on metal. The boy flinched as she raised it, reacting on instinct; he'd been traveling alone for so long that running from dangers he couldn't fight was second-nature.

When the expected blow didn't come, he cautiously opened his eyes, glancing up at a broken sword with a hilt shaped like a dragon. The girl smiled apologetically. "Sorry again. It's more of a warning than anything else—something to make customers think twice before running off without paying."

"Feh! I feel more sorry for the people who have to eat your nasty food!" a new voice squealed indignantly. The boy followed the sound of the voice, meeting the eyes of a pig.

A talking pig. "You can talk?" he said delightedly, hopping off of the bed and wobbling a bit as dizziness set in, leaning on the pig for support. "That's so cool! I asked my sister for a parrot when I was little, since they could talk too, but you're like a parrot but even better!"

"I should hope so! Those birds are cowards," the pig huffed grandly. "Nice to meet you. My name's Hawk."

"So did you like having a parrot?" the winged girl asked, a small smile on her face.

His face fell, thinking not about the parrot, but his sister. Margaret...oh gods, please let her be okay. "Didn't get one," he shrugged.

There was a pause, before the girl placed her hands on her hips with a decisive nod. "Are you hungry? I can probably rustle something up."

"Don't feed the poor kid your nasty food!"

He glanced up, and managed a grin. "Well, it can't be worse than my cooking..."