It was sunset at the great city of S—, and the Roofs were slowly turning from the color of turds to the color of something that looked very fresh and very sanguinary. Far below, throngs of people in clothing five hundred years out of date bounced about from one door to another, like ricocheting pinballs making their final stops before they had to go home to the bottom of the machine.

“You can almost hear them go ding and count your points!” Noah observed, peering around a gargoyle just after executing a tremendous leap from one nervously shaking Roof to another. As much as Ren would have liked to reply to this with an intensely clever sally of his own, he decided to prioritize not-breaking his neck instead. On the balance, he supposed that it was one of the more reasonable life decisions he’d made.

Unlike that other decision, agreeing to steal the Radiant Tatiara from the Fellnifuzig mansion. The Man in the Black Robe—Noah called him Blackie, but Ren objected to such terms for personal (and racial) reasons—had told them that he would be willing to give them their weight in gold if they’d managed to procure it for him. What he hadn’t told them was that the Manse Fellnifuzig floated in the clouds, and the only way to get there was via the Roofs.

(Normally roof-crawling would be as easy as a walk around the block, but the Roofs of S— were notorious for their habit of… shaking off unwanted visitors. It was some sort of magical precaution against marauding pigeons, but unfortunately, it worked also against poor, innocent thieves just minding their own business.)

Of course, the one other thing the MBR hadn’t told them about was what exactly the Radiant Tatiara was.

Ren had no idea he’d growled this aloud until Noah grinned cheekily into his face and said, “Don’t worry so much about it, Ren.” He made some vague gestures with his hands. “It probably has the words ‘Radiant Tatiara’ printed along the front of it. And it’ll be glowing and sending off sparks. That’s how it always is. This job is a cakewalk.”

Ren decided not to dignify that with an answer beyond the mandatory eyeroll.

They reached the stairway to the heavenly mansion without much mishap. (Except for that particularly ticklish section of overhang which grabbed Ren by the ankle and dangled him over the edge. But it eventually returned him to firm tile after five brilliant minutes of Noahian soliloquy about the poor, little, innocent [nonexistent] children he’d be leaving behind, and shame on the Roof for taking the letter of its job so seriously it forgot it’s true purpose: to guard and protect the lives of people… Or something like that. Noah could really ham it up when he had a mind to. It came in handy sometimes.)

And sure enough, there was a flight of stairs leading upwards into the clouds and a sign with a finger pointing up and reading: “To the Radiant Tatiara”. It was enough to send Ren’s hardened-cynic senses on a frenzy, like drow matrons during a sale in the bondage-wear section of the department store. Noah, on the other hand, only grinned and mouthed, “I told you so” and began enthusiastically climbing the spiraling stairway. It was as if he were the proverbial thief who didn’t know the meaning of the word “trap.” Then again, Ren reflected, Noah could just talk the bloody trap into letting him go.

--

Isildita Fellnifuzig was the loveliest girl in the world. Or, at least, that’s what the placard hanging down from her neck said. She didn’t know what it was about her father that gave him such a mania for labeling things… But she did know that it made her feel dehumanized and unloved, nothing but another pretty artifact in her father’s collection. It was intolerable, yet Isildita—or Dita, as her Nanny Madi called her—had no idea what to do about it. Or rather, she’d had a lot: so many ideas on how to catch her father’s attention and make him acknowledge that she was a real human being, &c., &c.

Only, they’d all failed.

She’d already run away (on parachute), threatened suicide, scared off all her tutors, alienated her mother, set fire to irreplaceable documents, and secretly dumped emetics into dinner (so that all everyone could think of for a whole week was how to get to the toilets, and, once there, how to dislodge the previous occupant).

Once, she’d even tried to elope with a stable boy (hey, don’t scowl like that, he was the most gorgeous stable boy in the world—Lord Fellnifuzig had a thing about good looks in his staff). But that plan fell through when the stable boy tearfully confessed to her at the last minute that the one he was actually in love with was the head cook’s handsome chief apprentice, and he was only using her to cover up his unholy desires, and please not to hate him, he couldn’t bear it if they couldn’t still remain friends afterwards.

After that, Dita had stopped trying. Instead, she spent all her time lying about in her pretty, pink room in her pretty, pink confections of dresses, and writing bad poetry. Mostly about the stable boy and the head cook’s chief apprentice kissing on each other and confessing their love for each other in extended metaphors. She didn’t exactly know why. It was just her thing.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad life (even if it was a bit sheltered, neurotic, and devoid of love), and Dita was more or less content with the way things were. No surprises, no hassles: she supposed it could have been worse. She could have been forced to make decisions in the face of terrible pressure and deal with the unexpected.

So you could only imagine what she felt when a section of her room’s previously unremarkable floor suddenly cracked open and two guys equipped in the latest of adventuring gear popped out, looking around with very startled and very handsome faces. Yeah, something like that, but with more hysteria.

--

The second thing Noah came aware of when he poked his head through the trapdoor was that there was a girl with a placard around her neck shrieking her head off on a bed. But the very first thing that actually assaulted his senses was all the pink. The walls and ceiling were papered in a design of pink cherry blossoms, the floor was pink tile, the furniture, curtains, and bedsheets were frothing and vomiting pink lace. He could almost feel the pink rubbing off on the hand he was using to hold himself steady on the floor, so he immediately shot out and up, and got his feet on firm ground again. Better permanently pink shoes than permanently pink hands, he’d always thought.

That done, he quickly got to the task of trying to calm the girl, something he’d always thought he was particularly good at, since he was such an irresistible bastard, oh yes, he was, wasn’t he.

“Hey,” he said, in a voice that made syrup sound like sandpaper. Ren was making disapproving faces, but Noah gestured at him to hold still. This was his element here. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Really, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be scared of.” When the girl stopped her screaming to take a breath, he sat at the foot of the bed and gave her his most encouraging look. “There we go.” And when it looked like she was drawing breath for another scream, he added, “I knew you were a clever and reasonable girl,” with shamelessly generous dollops of flattery. It wasn’t just cold-blooded calculation, mind, Noah genuinely liked to make people feel as good about themselves as he did. And if it involved a lot of… well… a bit of white lying, well he lied to himself too, didn’t he, and look what a happy life he had!

Dita forgot to renew her bout of screaming. She’d been called “beautiful” and “pretty” all her life, but she was almost certain that people only said that because they were reading off the placard around her neck. Never before had such a lovely man told her that she was “clever” and “reasonable”. In fact, no one at all had ever told her that, not even her Nanny Madi (who was, it must be said, a very truthful woman). But Isildita was pleased. She blushed. She preened. “You really think so?” she said, coyly.

“I know so,” Noah replied. Surreptitiously, he read her name off the placard. “Isildita. Such a musical name. I’m Noah.”

“Noah,” she repeated, as if in a dream.

They smiled into each other’s eyes until Ren loomed over them like a dark stormcloud with fine white hair. “Psst. Noah, ” he said, and made very eloquent gestures with his eyebrows. Ren had fascinating eyebrows. They had a language all their own.

“Oh, right,” Noah said. He sighed. In the intervening moments, he’d somehow gotten hold of Isildita’s daintily trembling hand and started stroking it in his own. “Well, love, the thing is, my best friend Ren and I weren’t exactly here just to visit you—though I swear that was the most important reason that we braved all sorts of terrible peril—” Noah went on to describe demonic draco-gargoyles and gorgons. He even threw in a fight to the death with a marauding pigeon.

Ren pretended to examine the pretty, pink knickknacks on the shelves, but he was actually trying to keep his eyeballs from rolling out of his head. “Don’t forget the Scorpion Prince and his harem of fire-wielding magical transvestites,” he called sarcastically over his shoulder. “We almost didn’t get through that either.” This was, of course, lost on both of the children on the bed. Humans, Ren thought.

Noah nodded solemnly to acknowledge Ren’s contribution. “But specifically, we were also looking for something,” he continued, with a supernaturally straight face, “something that was stolen from Ren’s cousin’s friend’s sister-in-law long ago. The theft of which has caused such great pain and heartbreak …”

“And lies,” Ren said with pregnant meaning. “Most especially lies. And family feuding too,” he added after a moment’s thought, getting into the story despite himself. “Mother against daughter. Nephew against aunt. In-laws against outlaws and bylaws…”

“What is it?” Dita asked, tremblingly. “Something my father ordered stolen? Oh, it would be just like him, the heartless, callous tyrant! He never learned to value anyone’s feelings but his own!”

Noah gave her a soulful, brown-eyed stare. “It’s called the Radiant Tatiara. Would you happen to know where it is?”

“Oh, of course!” Dita cried, delighted to be of assistance. “It’s one of my props. Wait a second, and I’ll get it for you.”

As she bustled about with a little pink drawer, Noah looked over her shoulder and mouthed “Cakewalk!” to Ren, who heaved a sigh of immense exasperation.

Dita came back holding a golden tiara in her hands. Naturally, it had pink diamonds set all over it in a tasteful yet youthfully charming spiderweb pattern. And, of course, it glowed and sparkled, as all self-respecting magical artifacts must do.

As if that weren’t enough, it also glowed pink.

Ren blinked. “That’s the Radiant Tatiara.” Call him old-fashioned, but he couldn’t quite reconcile the idea of powerful men swathed in black robes to tiaras with inset pink diamonds.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Dita snapped, suddenly testy. She knew she liked Noah, but there was something about this… best friend of his that had all her instincts on alert.

Quickly, Noah went for the save. “He’s just stunned at the thought that such a beautiful thing could set into motion one of the bloodiest quarrels ever in his cousin’s friend’s family. Wouldn’t you be?”

“I suppose,” Dita said doubtfully. She held out the Radiant Tatiara to Noah, whilst giving Ren a spiteful glower. “I hope it makes you happy,” she told him, with ill grace.

Ren tried his best to nod with appropriate gratefulness. Difficult, considering the fact that he wasn’t as good an actor as Noah and this girl really got on his nerves, what with the way she kept pawing and drooling over Noah like that. But whatever. Anything to get the job done.

Then, just as Noah’s hand touched on the coveted prize, Dita snatched it away. A small frown darkened her brow. “Wait. Before you go.” Her expression took on the vulnerability that is commonly attributed only to lost puppies. “I’ve never met anyone as nice as you before, Noah. Will you… Can you… Before I give it to you… Will you kiss me? A real kiss, with tongues?”

Ren choked on his spit. Noah put on an expression of polite inquiry, which, in his diplomatic moments, was his way of expressing indescribable shock and horror. They exchanged a glance full of meaning.

“What’s wrong?” Dita said, in a tone that said she had a nagging suspicion that she knew.

“Isildita, the thing is…” Noah began. Ren could see the gears turning in his head and he frowned. He’d let Noah handle things the whole time, but he’d rather be whipped before he let Noah spin a story so tangled there’d be no getting out.

Decisively, Ren said, “The truth is we’re together. Yes. That way.” Oh well, if the girl was going to hate somebody for this, she might as well hate him some more. She’d already disliked him at first sight anyway. “Noah’s just being friendly with you. He’s that way. Natural extrovert and all that. But I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.”

“Aw for crying out loud, Ren!” Noah groaned in frustration. “Couldn’t you have put it in nicer words?”

Ren shrugged, slightly embarrassed. Being nice wasn’t exactly a hallmark of drow culture, and though Ren was really a pretty good guy on the whole, he just didn’t have the gift of sugar and sunshine. So sue him.

On the bed, Isildita was shaking. “No, it’s okay,” she said finally, with delicate dignity. “I’d suspected it. Deep down inside, I knew you were too good to be true.”

There was a silence. Ren pretended to be examining the knickknacks again, not sure whether he should apologize or something.

“Um,” Noah ventured finally, almost shy. “I’m sorry I gave you that impression, Isildita. You’re really a very nice girl, sweet and attractive and… perceptive. And I bet that one day, your one true prince is going to come popping out of that trapdoor just like we did. And you’re going to get all the love and happily ever afters that you deserve.” He blinked back sentimental tears, carried away by his own eloquence. Then he patted Dita’s hand as they sniffled together. After a respectable amount of time had passed, he added, “So. I guess there’s no chance of us getting the Tatiara now, huh?”

Dita raised her head, a defiant light shining in her eyes. “Maybe there’s something you could still do for me.” She scrambled off the bed and got her pen and pink-hearts stationary. “I want the two of you to kiss each other.”

“Hrk—” Ren said, choking on nothing once again.

“It’s because I’m a poet,” Isildita explained frostily. “And I wish to accurately record emotions and images as they truly are. I’m sure the two of you would be worthy subjects.” Then she allowed herself a wry smile. “Besides, I’ve been writing all this time about boys kissing on each other and I’ve never really seen it done.”

Ren and Noah looked at each other again. Ren shrugged. He pulled Noah up from Isildita’s bed, drew him close by the small of his back, and kissed him, hard.

Isildita scribbled furiously on her pad. If we’re in the mood to be nosy, we could peek over her shoulder and read the phrases “passionate smoldering of the eyes” and “hands exploring each other’s bodies in savagely tender rhythm” and “succulent, mobile lips” and “masculine heat”. And we could then wonder how she’d ever get those things to rhyme.

But anyway. The Man in the Black Robe got his pink tiara, and we wish him good luck and god bless with whatever he might want to do with it. Maybe he has a daughter, who knows. Ren and Noah got their reward, which they, with passionate smolderings of the eyes, determined to spend on a hotel room with a very nice, silk-sheeted bed and a Jacuzzi.

Isildita discovered the Internet and found great fulfillment and e-fame in writing slash.

All in all, everything worked out pretty okay.