#chat piper

Everything was soft and warm and safe. There was a hint of English summer in the air, the air chilly but unmistakable sun-warmed. If she let her nose run free Dylan could pick out the faint coffee from downstairs and the fresh flowers she got from Roxy at the end of yesterday’s shift. There was something else too. Beneath and on top of everything else, wrapping itself around her like a cocoon. 

Dylan rolled over face down into the pillow and breathed in the familiar blend that was Piper’s hair. Piper would have had to have checked on her while she slept, or snuck in for a nap in her bed when Dylan worked the graveyard. The olfactory memory bloomed colors behind her eyelids that melted into Piper’s face. A soft smile and glossy eyes… As consciousness slipped between her fingers Dylan slipped back into the dream, Piper now taking the form of the unknown storyteller in the mossy forest.

… “The stars spoke their piece and the flowers danced in their glow. Are you sure you love the life you have? The trees were curious as always, reaching out to feel each other as the stars decided their fate.” Dylan furrowed her brows at the story, not sure how the stars falling onto Piper’s head would help flowers dance ...

What felt like hours later Dylan’s mind reached out to reality yet again, trying to claw its way from its own insides. There were flashes of her dream mixing in with the onslaught of sensations from her bedroom. The ache from her muscles helped focus on her body as her mind came back online like the buggy Windows 98 it was. Excruciatingly slow and far from steady. Dylan hummed as a wave of comfort and calm washed over her, almost sending her back to sleep. Instead, she forced herself to cling to awake-ness and rolled over to catch Piper’s gaze. “Mo’ning.”

Why was she nervous? There was no reason to be nervous. It was Piper, for gods sake. Sure, it had been a year since they had met in person. And Dylan hadn’t strictly told Piper she was coming to London. But. It was still Piper. And yes, Dylan hadn’t replied to Piper’s last text yet, the one she sent days ago, but that wasn’t something new. Dylan did better with five hour long phone calls anyway. It wasn’t really that big of a deal. Sure. 

Looking around the corner at the shop sign, Dylan tried to shake the jitters from her hands to no avail. “Jāšanās elle.” Dylan cursed to herself. Here she was, standing in Knockturn Alley, spying on the door to Burgin and Burkes like some kind of undercover operative waiting for the suspect to ‘leave the premises’ so she could hiss into her comm that Elvis had left the building. The fact that she hadn’t told Piper about the breakup with Lia might be why she was stalling, but Dylan again pretended the thought didn’t cross her mind. With a last shake of her head Dylan hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and crossed the narrow street in front of 13B, Knockturn Alley. Without leaving herself another second to dwell and why’s, how’s or what’s, Dylan knocked.