Through the Walls

Harold Quintell

Dimension: OA-80945

Time: 2:22 AM

I had been wiping down the last of the tankards in the pub, intent on getting one last tip in, when a young woman dressed in a cloak walked in.

"Sorry miss, we're just about to close up for the night." I said, placing down my cloth.

"Oh, don't worry sir, I won't be long." She replied, smiling softly at me. I was mesmerized by her smile, something that does not commonly happen with me. I simply nodded, and returned to my work.

"Would you like anything, miss?" I asked as kindly as I could, despite being annoyed out of my mind at the nerve of this woman. Coming in just before we closed. Regardless, I had to be polite to most of the rude, uneducated heathens that frequented here. She shook her head, and I saw a slight smile from under her hood.

"No thank you. Just some company for a weary traveler is all I need." She said "I'm willing to pay a fair amount of coin for a good conversation."

I raised a brow quizzically at the woman, slightly confused by her statement. I knew that no true self-respecting intellectual would be caught dead at a pub at this time of night. I suspiciously leaned against the counter in front of her, trying to get a glimpse under her hood to see who she was. Not many outsiders visited this town, so I was sure I could've identified her once I saw her, but she kept adjusting herself so that I couldn't see her.

I pondered what a nice woman would want with this pub, out of all other ones as well, and at such a late time.

"No need for coin" I said "So, who are you, miss?"

I could see a smile from under her silver hood, one that made my spine tingle. With fear or excitement, I didn't know.

"My name is Melissa. Melissa Willowood. And you are?"

"Harold. Harold Turncoat Quintell, at your service m'lady." I reply, giving a slight bow.

The woman nodded, then slowly took off her hood to reveal straight brown, almost auburn, hair with a brilliant purple streak in it. The shade in her hair was much darker then the shade in her eyes, though. If I stared to long, even a man of my tastes could drown in those soft, sad lilac eyes.

"I was hoping it was you." She said, almost as if she were satisfied with herself "I have a proposition for you, Mr. Quintell."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm not sure what you've heard, Ms. Willowood, but I do not partake in any assassination attempts—"

"Oh I assure you it's not that." She interrupted, quite rudely might I add "It's something that allows you to have something you desire."

"Oh really? What would that be?" I sneered defensively.

She smiled slyly. "Power."

I froze in place, my heart dropping into my stomach. She took this as her cue to continue.

"You see, I am a dimension jumper. I travel between worlds, keeping them on their proper timeline. It allows me to use a lot of power, and gives me a lot of free will." She looked at me. "Two things you don't have much of here, I take it."

I opened my mouth to say something, but ended up just nodding my head. Dimension jumpers had been legends here for a long time, as they had saved our world long ago.

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked.

"Recently, I've decided to start training apprentices, so that if anything should happen to me, they could take over. I chose four people, and you're one of them, Harold."

I was completely and utterly flabbergasted. She had chosen me, out of probably thousands, no, billions of candidates. I felt honored. I felt... Powerful.

"So, do we have a deal?" She asked, putting out her hand. I noticed her sleeves were short enough that I could see her tattoo sigil. According to legend, that's what allows them to travel.

I shook her hand and said "As long as I get a big wardrobe with an area for my, uh—"

"Your 'special' clothes will have plenty of room, as well as extra room for more additions to your collection."

I smiled widely.

"Deal."

Then, in a flash of light, the pub was empty.