Choir of Moths

Chapter 5

Leondra tapped her index finger rhythmically on the wooden bartop. She'd been doing so for so long that the tip of her finger ached. It was an old habit she had picked up in high school around the time her parents had divorced. To those that didn't know her, it probably looked like she was expectedly waiting for something. But all two of the people that really knew her recognized it as a sign of her uneasiness. For the tenth time in the last couple of minutes, she looked over her shoulder at a table on the other side of the room. Around it sat three men laughing, and talking in voices that were drowned out by the chatter of the lounges' other patrons. Laughter, and the clang of silverware on plates, woven through by piano music being played over the speakers. She quickly turned back around trying not to make her status as a bodyguard too obvious. Leondra had been on her fair amount of escort assignments, yet every time she was lured onto one of these unsanctioned ones , she'd morph into a nervous mess. Without realizing it she had turned around to check the table again, this time swearing out loud as she realized she had. She took a deep breath to attempt to center herself.

She swept her hair behind her ear, took a sip of water from the glass in front of her, and commanded herself to relax. Currently, she was at the bar with her back to the rest of the room but the shelves of alcohol in front of her had a mirror behind it allowing her to survey the room, this time without actually turning around. The lounge was surprisingly packed despite how late it was. At each table sat groups of three or four well-dressed occupants laughing sloppily over drinks or smoking who knows what out of pipes. The ever-present smell of herbal smoke in the city was one of the main reasons Leondra hated having to visit it. It gave her a headache and the smell seemingly lingered on her clothes for weeks after, no matter how many times she washed them. The aromas in this part of the city specifically were more potent than anywhere else. Some had heavy chemical accents and some caused Leondra to become dizzy just from a couple of whiffs. She massaged the bridge of her nose, before finishing the last bit of water in her glass. A loud snap managed to catch the bartender's attention for her to ask for a refill. The thought of asking for something with some kick to it crossed her mind but she decided against it.

As the bartender filled her glass with ice-cold water, Leondra noticed a girl, sitting a couple of bar stools down from her. As she sipped slowly from her glass filled with what was most certainly tap water, she peered at the young woman out of the corner of her eye. The girl looked quite a bit younger than Leondra, perhaps by a decade or so, and was probably somewhere in her twenties. She had dark hair tied into a large singular braid, several wooded beads woven into it. A black silk dress with accents of white hung loosely to her thin frame. She looked to be writing or drawing in a small journal but Leondra couldn't tell without turning her head to look. An alarm went off somewhere in the back of her mind as Leondra realized she hadn't even seen the girl walk up to the bar to sit down. She certainly wasn't there when Leondra had first sat down. Had she been that worked up that she'd gained such strong tunnel vision? Was she so worked up that she had become oblivious to her surroundings? She gave the girl one more glance, seeing that she was still writing with one hand, while playing with the end of her braid using the other. Despite the girl's doll-like cuteness, something about her was off, or familiar or welcoming. Leondra's gaze must have lingered for a second too long as the girl suddenly looked up from her journal and locked eyes with her, just as quickly returning her focus to the small book in front of her. Leondra fully returned her attention to her glass of water feeling guilty for staring down some random girl.

A hand landed on Leondra's shoulder causing her to instinctually lash out. Grabbing it, and squeezing it hard as she could as she spun around, simultaneously rising to her feet, an incantation ready on her lips. She hadn't even met her assailant's eyes before a familiar voice twisted into whining and pleas hit her ears. She looked into the blue eyes of her friend Thomas, on the verge of tears as he pleaded desperately for her to release his hand. She kept her grip for several more seconds, a mild form of payback for being the reason she was sitting in this lounge in the first place. As soon as it looked like he was about to drop to his knees, she released his hand and with a huff, retook her seat.