Stowaway

Chapter One: Sweet

The view from the skyscraper was breathtaking, granting a view of the city in all of its populated glory, bathed in the soft light of the street lamps and the brighter bulbs housed within the various shops. The steady stream of sound maintained by advertisements, musicians, and conversing people seemed to give the city a tangible pulse, making every heart beat to the same rhythm. The night was no hindrance and granted no reprieve to the bustling metropolis, a mirror image to its midday counterpart. To some the lifestyle was intoxicating, they craved the constant interaction and unique chaos. And perhaps the converging of humanity did hold a particular beauty invisible to me.

Not that it mattered. I'd be returning to obscurity shortly either way.

"Remind me, brat, why I humor your trivial pursuits." 

"Oh come on, Auntie Aurora! It's just a double date, and you could totally pass off for a twenty-something year-old." Who knew eternal youth could be a curse. "Plus you totally owe me for that day in San Francisco!" 

I cringed at the memory of the council member a decade older demanding a date, until Annabelle had unintentionally drawn his attention elsewhere. She always had been radiant and beautiful, gaining attention from males much quicker than I with her sociable demeanor. All men that were as sharp or as observant as myself were usually preoccupied, too busy to address the emotional baggage of two people and settled for their own. Perhaps I had gone so long avoiding social contact that such thoughts were my only justification, they were my only explanation for the solace I found in absolute isolation. 

Or maybe, a part of my mind reasoned, you know you've never been the conventional epitome of female beauty. Look at you.

The words cut deep and resurrected a dull pain that had not quite healed, like a lingering wound that had not closed properly, infected and festering. For better or worse this life was accompanied by a vivid memory, forcing me to endure the sound of his voice for many lifetimes.

"You know you want this you dirty minx," The rasping sound of fabric tearing filled the silence. "Now let's see what all those long dresses have been hidi-"

Regardless, I was regretting my agreement to join Annabelle.

"You would think one a half-century younger than I would grant me more respect."

Annabelle's answering scoff betrayed no repentance, brazen and unfazed by my sudden brittle tone. "Quit grumbling like an old fossil, live a little! You can't stay cooped up in the middle of nowhere forever." She winked.

Now I remembered why the child was so tolerable. She was always honest with me, regardless of my reactions, and shared the same sense of humor. But somebody needed to protect that smart mouth of hers. Seventy years of life had granted me the knowledge that heroes did not exist, and I would be damned if she suffered a fate similar to my own for speaking out of turn. I wanted her to trust people as freely as she always had, suspicion could wear on an any person after long. To be fair she was intelligent and cautious, but also a fraction impetuous as all fledglings were. The wacky aunt within me found it refreshing, the concerned adult was utterly petrified.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as we neared the restaurant that was to be our venue, shoving down the urge to make myself scarce. For the love of all the Gods people conjured, was I really about to attend something so trivial? The answer came in the form of Annabelle's adamant and piercing glare at the sight of my growing reluctance.

Apparently yes, yes I was.

We dropped down from the roof of the nearest building and into a covert alleyway, concealing our abilities immediately. She wore an easy smile and I remained expressionless, to which Annabelle expressed vocal displeasure.