The flickering glow of a dozen candles bathed Alina’s workshop in a warm, honeyed light, casting long shadows across shelves cluttered with jars of pigments, half-finished sketches, and the faint scent of drying ink. Perched on a worn wooden stool, Alina sat with a paintbrush poised in her slender fingers, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Her sharp green eyes traced the delicate lines of a mythical beast taking shape on the parchment before her—a creature of sinew and scale, wings unfurling in mid-flight. Every stroke was deliberate, a dance of precision and passion.
Beside her, Argus, a griffon the size of a large hound, sat with an almost regal air, his golden eyes fixed on her work. His feathers rustled softly as he tilted his head, as if critiquing every flick of her wrist. Alina muttered under her breath, her voice a low, playful growl. “Don’t give me that look, feather-brain. I know the wings aren’t perfect yet.” Argus bobbed his head, a faint ripple of understanding brushing against her mind—though she didn’t quite register it as anything more than her own imagination. A smirk tugged at her lips as she caught his gesture. “Oh, so you agree? Traitor.”
Finishing a particularly tricky line, Alina leaned back with a satisfied sigh, holding up the sketch to the dim light. “Well, what do you think, Argus? Not half bad, right?” The griffon nodded again, his beak clicking softly in what she swore was approval. Her grin widened, softening the hard edges of her features. “You’re too kind, you little monster. Keep that up, and I might start thinking you’ve got a crush on me.”
Her smile faded into a thoughtful frown as she set the sketch down on the cluttered workbench. “What are we going to do with you, huh? I can’t keep hiding you in here forever, but dragging a beast like you around isn’t exactly subtle.” She tapped her chin with the end of her brush, then chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “If only you could shrink down to, say, bird-size. I could tuck you into a pocket or something. How’s that for a plan, genius?” Argus nodded once more, a flicker of something sly in his gaze, as if he were in on a joke she hadn’t yet caught.
Before Alina could press him with another quip, Argus stepped closer, his talons clicking sharply on the stone floor. He dipped his head and lightly pecked at her chest, the tickle of his beak grazing her through the thin linen of her shirt. She burst into laughter, swatting at him playfully with her free hand. “You little rogue! What’s that naughty brain of yours scheming now? Trying to cop a feel, are you? I’ll have you know I charge for that kind of attention.”
Argus locked eyes with her, his stare intense and almost too knowing for a beast. Then, in a shimmer of golden light, his form rippled and contracted, shrinking before her very eyes until he was no larger than a sparrow. Alina’s jaw dropped, her expression a heady mix of shock and delight. “Argus, you sneaky bastard! How in the seven hells did you—? Never mind, I know you won’t spill your secrets.” She shook her head, still grinning as the tiny griffon fluttered up to perch on her shoulder, nuzzling her cheek with a soft, almost affectionate coo. “Oh, you’re just showing off now, aren’t you? Fine, I’ll keep you close—but don’t think this means you can slack off.”
The creak of the workshop door shattered the intimate moment, and Alina’s head snapped up, her posture instantly shifting to one of guarded authority. Lucian and Lutik strode in, the former carrying a small pouch that reeked of raw meat and bones, the latter sporting a mischievous smirk that promised trouble. Lucian’s dark eyes narrowed as they landed on the tiny creature on Alina’s shoulder, then widened in realization. “Wait, is that—? Did he always do that, or is this another one of your blood-bending experiments gone weird?”
Alina smirked, folding her arms across her chest with a mock air of superiority. “Surprised, are we, Lucian? I’ll have you know I’m just as clueless as you. Argus here decided to play magician without consulting me. Don’t ask how—I’m still figuring out if I’ve gone mad or not. But let’s be honest, if I had a hand in this, I’d have made him turn into a purse. Far more practical.”
Lutik snorted, leaning casually against a workbench, one hand lazily brushing against a jar of ink. “So, what, he’s your personal pocket monster now? You planning to smuggle him into the royal banquet next? Bet the queen would love a griffon garnish on her roast. Might even knight you for creativity.”
Lucian chuckled, holding up the pouch of meat with a wry grin. “Well, I brought dinner for the beast, but now I’m wondering if I should’ve brought crumbs instead. What do you even feed a griffon that small? A thimble of broth?” He tossed a tiny scrap toward Argus, who fluttered off Alina’s shoulder with a grace that belied his size.
Before the meat could hit the ground, Argus shimmered mid-air, his form expanding in a burst of golden light until he returned to his full, imposing size. He snapped up the morsel with a satisfied chomp, his tail flicking with what Alina could only describe as smugness. She burst into laughter, clutching her sides. “Oh, you dramatic little show-off! You just couldn’t resist, could you? Had to make an entrance.”
Lutik jumped back with a yelp, nearly knocking over the jar of ink behind him. “Bloody hells, warn a man before you turn into a damn warhorse! I nearly pissed myself over here!” Lucian just shook his head, a rare grin cracking his usually stoic facade. “Alright, I’ll admit, that’s impressive. Guess I don’t need to skimp on the portions after all.”
The trio watched as Argus devoured the offered meat, the sound of crunching bones filling the workshop with a primal rhythm. Alina tossed in a playful insult, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “Don’t get too comfortable, you glutton. I’m not running a griffon buffet here. Eat like that, and I’ll start charging rent.” Argus merely flicked an ear, unfazed, as if daring her to follow through on the threat.
After a few more laughs, Lucian straightened, his expression sobering as duty tugged at him. “As much as I’d love to stick around and watch your pet perform more parlor tricks, duty calls. Try not to turn the palace into a circus while I’m gone.” He gave Alina a pointed look, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of warning and amusement, then nodded to Lutik before heading out, the door creaking softly behind him.
Lutik clapped Alina on the shoulder, his grin wide and full of mischief. “How about a stroll through the palace grounds, boss lady? Never know who might need a hand—or a griffon. Besides, I’m dying to see the looks on their faces when they catch sight of your little trickster here.” Alina rolled her eyes but agreed with a smirk, her tone sharp and teasing. “Fine, but if you get us into trouble, I’m blaming you. And trust me, I’m very good at throwing people under the cart.”
Argus shimmered once more, shrinking back to bird-size with a faint golden glow, and hopped into her satchel with a practiced ease that made her chuckle. “Alright, you little stowaway, let’s see what kind of chaos we can stir up.” Together, they stepped out of the workshop, the door creaking shut behind them, leaving the cozy chaos of Alina’s sanctuary in silence—for now.
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