#dcu.

@galaqsies

the pavement is as gray and damp as the skies, a miserable testament to drabness and weariness. it suits her mood, she thinks, forced to cower beneath an umbrella, fingers clutchign tightly to the plastic molded handle. it's so pedestrian, to deal with things the nonmagical way. mundane. she ducks out of the way of a passerby, skirts around a corner. her skin prickles, goosebumps rippling down her spine and for the hundredth time that day she tries to decide if she's being followed or if the chills are simply coming from the whisper of the cold winds against her skin.

she ducks into a bar, a divey place where the smell crashes over her like a wave, smoke and whiskey, cheap and stale. her nose crinkles and she beelines for the back cornerbooth, slouching into place with a frown. with her back to solid concrete she feels more secure, pulling her hood down over her face and drumming her fingers idly on the table. a chain laces around her neck and in her pocket is a ring to match the heft of that strange silver. she keeps one fist closed around it as she gestures for the bartender, a gruff order on her lips. 

and then, as soon as she takes a sip, she feels a change in the air. there's something electric that skitters over her bones, a shift in energies that raises her hackles. the culprit is immediately obvious - she sees him standing in the doorway, an outline of narrow shoulders and a sharp jaw. fuck. of course they'd have hired him. she purses her lips, pulls the cup to her lips as if she can hide behind it, but it's impossible. so much for dodging out on him.