InsaneJournal

WHO: Sable Harris and Judah Low
WHAT: Chatting on a rooftop
WHEN: Early morning
WHERE: Above The Sign of the Weasel
WARNINGS: None


“You stand so still.”

Judah did not turn to look at the dark-skinned girl standing at his side. He was looking over London from a rooftop, from the rooftops that connected the line of buildings between his shop and hers. He stood like a gargoyle, and the air was still, so his clothing and hair were still as well.

“What are you looking for?”

For. Not at. She knew.

“I don’t know,” the mage replied at last, quietly. “It ain’t like home, here. It’s too small, to soft, too many people too happy. I don’t want to say it’s wrong, but the difference is…”

“Disturbing,” Sable said, agreeing. “It’s years before my time here. It’s like waking up in an old movie sometimes. It’s hard not to laugh at it, a little.”

“What are you looking for?” said Judah.

“Reasons.”

He turned to her at last, and smiled, and made a little man from gutter-leaves dance across the rooftop before getting blown away as the wind came. In the distance, clouds gathered in the pre-dawn and erased the stars from the rooftops up. They could smell the city waking. Sable laughed.

“Come inside,” she said to Judah. “I’ll make us something to drink. There’s other folks to watch the shop today.”

He took the hand she offered, and the gargoyles on the roof melted down into the city again.