Not the wild music of the street musicians or the chattering of the crowd could pull the wretched sound of his wretched screams out of her head. Every time the boat rocked... Noise, noise, noise. Sable stopped, rubbing her temples. When she opened them, Sewell was gone. She was alone in a sea of people moving through the square, but Sewell hadn't gone far. Sable pulled up her skirt and ran after him, dodging the strangers around her. The lights flickered in the breeze, and there he was, leaning against a street lamp, arms folded and eying a passing woman. Sable grabbed his sleeve and tugged, causing a smile to tug at the corner of Sewell's mouth.
Then there was that horrible scream again.
Sewell's smile turned to a frown as Sable clamped her hands over her ears. Placing a hand on her back, he guided her forward. It was a good thing to, as the streets and the people and the city were difficult to make out behind the screaming and fighting and blood. Breathing hard, Sable wrapped her arms around Sewell's. She could still see him through everything else, but his attention seemed to be lost in the crowd.
Everyone was moving.
Sable found it was difficult to keep up with Sewell's long strides. A flock of pigeons took off as they walked through them. It would have been nice to be a bird, she thought, but then there would be no Sewell.
He pulled open the door to the inn; Sable scrunched up her nose as the light from inside flooded over her. Sewell nodded to the innkeeper, an old woman in red silk, and led her up to their room. As soon as he opened the door, Sable ran over to her bed. Dropping to the floor, she thrust her hand under her bed in search of her notebook. She didn't even bother getting up, but propped herself against the bed and flipped to the first blank page. She let out a sigh of relief as soon as her pencil touched paper.
Sewell went to the window. He wanted to go back out, but Sable didn't like that idea. She also didn't like that most of her thoughts revolved around a bandaged man strapped to a hammock. Irritated by the intrusion of the stranger, she pressed the pencil down to hard; the frayed end slid across the paper as the lead rolled away. Sable wanted to yell at it. The cry built up in her chest but as it couldn't get out, she snapped the pencil in two and threw the pieces against the floor. One half rolled across the room, hitting the side of Sewell's foot. Unconcerned at the outburst, he merely kicked the broken end under his bed.
"You want me to go find you another one?" He asked lazily.
Sable looked up. Sewell had his back to her, leaning forward against the window. She watched him for a bit--standing quite still, shoulders rising and falling with his breathing. The funny thing about Sewell was that he loved cities, but hated not seeing the stars. Sable shut her notebook and slid it back under the bed. Sewell looked back at her, then turned back to the window. Scratching his chin, he looked down on the people bellow. Kingless and their counsel divided, they all went about their usual business. A few men argued over the papers, but they always traded their arguments for something more pleasant. People had gotten too used to avoiding conflict.
Sewell's fingers drummed against the window. Sable had turned out the lights, causing him to furrow his brow. Humans needed too much sleep. He felt Sable pulling him from the window. Reaching around him, she pulled the curtains closed with a single motion. Sewell reached to open it again, but Sable slid between him and the window, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrist. He jerked it away, pulling his face into a sneer, which Sable wiped away, brushing her lips against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Sewell considered her, remaining still and allowing her to kiss him again. Sable didn't have the kind of beauty of Ina or Isabel, but he had thought she had a kind of delicateness and--partly owing to her mischievous nature--some sort of mystery he had always considered to be alluring. He ran his hand through her hair a third time, gaining a certain satisfaction from the tip of her thumb tracing the outline of his jaw. His hands wandered down to her waits and, this time, Sewell returned Sable's kiss, pressing himself closer to her. Sable wrapped herself more tightly around him--the one who could always slow down her mind. Before, she had focus hard on him, but now his musky scent and the feel of his normally stiff demeanor relaxing quieted her thoughts with no effort at all. The real Sewell was immensely more satisfying than any vision. And now, as his hands had somehow found a way under her blouse, and she began to unfasten his robes, it was very easy for her to think of nothing at all.
