Refuge In The Shadows

12.

"Who would ever want to make this their home?" Carraway's town house located near the centre of Westminster stood haughtily behind a set of iron wrought gates next to buildings of the same caliber. The cobblestone streets in front of the house reflected the uniform wealth and privilege that emanated from the homes: they were filled with luxury coaches, fur coated women, and tobacco smoking men. Carraway's house still seemed to feel cold and unwelcoming, its exteriors hiding the ugliness that resided behind the closed front door.

Cadeyrn absorbed Carys's rhetorical question as he and his sister melded into the leafless trees that made up a small public park a few metres in front of the house. She was right, who could feel comfortable and at peace in what looked more like a museum or better yet, a mausoleum? If the house's exterior was anything like the inside, he was sure that there were no coats and jackets strewn across backs of chairs, no dirty dishes left on tabletops, no pens, papers, instruments, and toys tucked in the most unexpected of places. It was this endearing, perpetual disorganisation that made the tiny, snug, and worn down cottage of his childhood more than just a place to sleep and a shelter for inclement weather; it was a sanctuary, the one corner of the universe where he felt unconditionally safe and sound.

Glancing across the street again towards Carraway's house, Cadeyrn narrowed his eyes. Why did these much too elaborate, visual representations of wealth get to remain standing, admired by the everyone who passed them, and beckoning party-goers for long nights lost in a gilded nightmare while real homes like his faded away as nothing but dust, emptiness, and memories? He knew very well the world was cruel and unjust but to extend the neglected and suffering to innocent, unassuming four-walled enclosures was simply tragic.

Cadeyrn was released from the torments of his mind with a touch to his leather-clad arm. Carys gave him a mournful smile, a smile that spoke volumes. I completely understand what you are feeling, she seemed to convey with the curling upwards of her lips. She emerged from the security of the trees and took a few steps towards the dreaded house. "Come, we must scout around the property before the party tomorrow night." Cadeyrn let go of the image of the cottage in northern Wales and dutifully followed his sister. He watched as Carys sauntered confidently to the street and examined Carraway's town house in greater depth. He followed her gaze to the front door, windows, and the fire escape mapping out with her all the possible escape routes. Now to see if the place had a hatch on the rooftop.

As if they were not planning to infiltrate the home of London's most powerful businessman, Carys and Cadeyrn strolled down the street to find an alleyway where they could scale the walls of the neighbouring houses without causing an unnecessary scene. The crowds parted to let the two hunters pass as if they did not want to accidentally touch who they deemed lower-class individuals based on their threadbare coats and muddy, worn boots. Although they regarded them as members on the bottom of the social ladder, the well-to-do Londoners did not pay them any real attention. Carys opted for a flat cap that hid her hair knot and whose front lip concealed her eyes. Keeping her head down as she walked, she was not in the mood to start a riot on the streets of Westminster for having the nerve to wear men's trousers. Society's insistence on a strict binary divide on clothing could go to Hell.

Slipping into an empty alley, the siblings raced each other to the top. Cadeyrn launched himself up the ledge of the roof just milliseconds before Carys did. "Better luck next time, little sister," Cadeyrn said slightly breathless as he batted Carys's nose affectionately. She wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms. "You know that those nine minutes do not mean anything," she grumbled. But they do; they mean more than you can ever imagine, Cadeyrn wanted to say, but he knew it was not the right time nor place. Instead, he cleared his throat to dispel his voice of the shakiness he knew it had before speaking. "In due time, Carys," he replied cryptically. Carys gave him a weird look, but decided not to push it further. "Shall we?" she asked, gesturing to the five roofs that stood between them and Carraway's home.