It’s cold. The wood sits charred and spent inside the fireplace as I open my eyes to greet the night. I sit up in my cage, spreading my wings with spent feathers fluttering high up and a single courageous candle illuminating my bed.  The flickering light reflects in my deep purple eyes as I look around the empty room, enjoying the spent feathers soaring lower and lower in a last hurrah.

I slip off the bed, sliding into my fluffy slippers. The pink fur coating them entirely is better than coffee. I close my eyes, take a deep breath through my nose and wiggle my toes around, feeling the fluff out. Feeling my cheeks pull up a little bit, I pull myself up as well, up and off the bed.

The feathers offer a steady but familiar resistance while I make my way through the room and towards the large oak door. Making my way through it, I find myself on the road that leads everywhere, a long and tall but very thin hallway. Its walls are lined with the exact same door, over and over again in both direction. Each numbered, like ranking your favorite food.

001, my room. 002, my sisters room, then another sister, then a little further down are my parents and so on and so forth until you loop around, to the least important thing. 

I begin walking to the left, following the ascending numbers for a few minutes. The sound of my steps echoes underneath the floor as if the underneath was hollowed out. I slide my fingers along the coarse ultramarine painted wall. Sharpening my nails like a cat as I move along. From time to time I shudder my wings too, to keep them from withering too far. 

The first stop, also known as the bathroom. I open the large door and step inside, only to be greeted by the warm, steamy air from a recently used shower. A slight but vibrant smell of vanilla tickles the inside of my nose. I can’t help but to scratch it.

One of the walls is lined by tens of sinks, each exactly the same and accompanied by a square mirror right about head height. On the opposite side of the bathroom sits a row of sealed off toilet stalls, only accessible through that large, wooden door I’m oh so familiar with. 

While the itch in and on my nose gets taken care of, I turn the valves on one of the many faucets, letting the water flow. My other hand, now free from the nasal excursion, wipes off the steamed mirror with a squeaking sound, the condensation settles on my palm and flows down to my elbow.

I look at the drop of water, holding on to the skin on my arm. It shifts and wobbles as my muscles still tremble a little from the cold air in my room, not yet warmed up. With a blink, I look away and onto Aradia’s cosmetics that are on the sink and begin to methodically move it from my sink, onto the next one in line.

The water flowing from the faucet gets warmer and warmer with the steam rising from it with more intensity with each passing second. Done, only my things remain on the sink. With that, I begin my simple yet effective skincare routine, all the while my reflection becomes a blur in the mirror. 

I turn away from the running faucet and head to the ornate bathtub sitting lonely in the corner. A shower would probably be best, but a Bath is just too good to pass up. I walk over to the bathtub, stepping on the small carpet in front of it, only to realize my fluffy slippers are now quite wet and making a mushy sound with every step I take.

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After taking a moment to think, looking at the slippers, I turn back to the tub and flick the valve with hot water that begins to pour into the tub. I reach down and stick the metal seal into the drain, caging the warm liquid from escaping for a while longer, making it linger for nothing but my own little desires.

The water pools on the bottom of the bathtub, swirling and swooshing as I drag my fingers through. I watch the shapes that form on the surface of the water as the gentle steam puffs onto my face. All the while the warm liquid growls and grumbles, hungry for more, swallowing my arm.

But, before it can finish its meal I pull back. It shouldn’t matter to you, my old friend. The full course meal is coming your way so sit tight. I slide off my gown and spread out my wings, small droplets of water trickle off the feathers as I step out of my slippers and into the tub. 

The warm feeling along my legs as I stand inside the tub makes the hair on my neck stand. I close my eyes and breathe out… It’s cold. I sit down in the tub, holding myself up by its rim and watch as the water turns pitch black the moment my wings submerge.

I poured too much, the liquid overflows with a splashing sound out of the tub and onto the slippers, leaving a large puddle behind. However will I move about now?

With nothing but my head poking out of the water, I take a deep breath and then exhale. When sitting like that, it feels like it’s just my head in this world, the rest of my body floating in an endless void. 

But my heart is still pumping and my lungs breathe air, reminding me of the cold outside waiting soon after this little moment to myself. I splash some water around with my feet… How do you handle this my friend? How do you manage to be this warm for so long?

Anyway, a puddle of water can’t really tell me its secrets. For all it knows, this tub was made for it, fits it rather neatly doesn’t it? I grab a cube of soap and soak it in water, playing around with it, foaming the surface up a little bit.

I wash myself carefully, looking beautiful is part of my work after all. Once I’m done with my horns I lean over and kneel in the bathtub, lifting one wing up and leaning it to the front. 

Holding the wing with my free hand I start dragging the soap along its feathers with the other. A small, repeating popping sound like that of a muffled bubble wrap fills the bathroom as my feathers pull back under the soap and then flick into one another with each stroke. 

I let go of the wing and let it drop into the water while lifting the other one. Repeating the same motions, I  carefully wash my symbols of freedom, letting them feel as if there’s still some use left for them.

My cheeks start lightly tugging on the corners of my mouth as I finish washing my wings. They submerge back under the surface of the water and I lift up my arms. With a rather loud and obnoxious groan I stretch my back, soon after lifting myself out of the tub.

Using my toe I pull on the metal seal and let the water escape. Goodbye old friend, until we meet again. And there I linger, listening to the water dripping off my body and wings. But I spent enough time lingering around. There is a place I have to be and a few more stops to reach before that.

My wings shudder and wiggle around a little bit, throwing off the remaining water while I step out and dry myself off with a nearby towel. After its purpose is spent. I throw it on the ground, letting it soak in the puddle of water.

Afterwards I pick up my slippers that look like a wet cat that just ran inside from rain and wrap them in a towel as well, letting them sit while I finish making sure my face looks just right.