The Truth

"Get inside, and we can talk." Mizrabel ushered us through the door to her home.

I expected the place to be small, a hovel, something that went along with the inside of a giant tree. I figured the furniture would consist of branches, leaves, and a fire pit.

Instead, the home was spacious and airy with billowing white curtains, a chandelier made of different colored gems, and a large open kitchen.

The floors were black marble.

A lush black rug sat in the center of the living area and surrounded by dark red furniture and a slate gray fireplace.

"The bedrooms are down the hall through there."

She looked at Quilla.

"You won't be staying here. You and your strange fashion sense will go back to wherever it is you came from."

She flicked her finger, and Quilla's outfit changed from lavender to a putrid green.

"Oh no, you don't," Quilla said with a sneeze and changed her outfit back. "Rude."

Mizrabel snorted and altered it again.

"Twixit. That's enough." Quilla switched it back.

Mizrabe