Alexandria (ONC entry)

Part four

"Get up, we're here." Asura Dawson's voice woke Maxence rather peacefully, and she didn't move from her spot curled up on the boat for a solid thirty seconds while her brain adjusted to the events of the past forty-eight hours. Then she shot upright, whipping her head around towards the sound of people: there were people milling about on the docks, people lazily strolling down the boulevards, people manning the tons of boats in the port and people shouting, and it was beautiful and it was proof that Asura Dawson hadn't been lying to her and that he did intend to help her. Maxence could have cried. It had only been two days since she had set foot on solid land, but it felt like so much longer.

Asura docked their little boat, steering it in between the bigger ships, trying to stay as much out of sight as possible. He tied the lines to a random bollard sticking out from the ground and jumped out of the boat, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. When Maxence had joined him on the docks, her briefcase safely at her feet, he bent down and untied the rope holding the boat in its place, letting it drift off into the open sea again. They had chosen a rather remote spot in the port: a little corner where not many boats resided, and where they would be somewhat safe from any prying gazes.

Maxence watched the little boat slide away, bouncing up and down on the waves. "Why'd you do that?"

"Might bring anyone looking for us on the wrong path," Asura said, hoisting the duffel up on his shoulder and turning resolutely away, starting to walk into the town.

"Or it could backfire completely and get us arrested," hissed Maxence, picking up her case and jogging a couple of steps to catch up with him. "I'm pretty sure that was illegal."

Asura snorted. "We just illegally crossed the Mediterranean. This should be the least of your worries." And that was all he said.

They picked their way through the thinning crowd. Whatever bits of conversation Maxence managed to pick up from passersby were in a language she didn't speak, but she did recognise the letters from signs or ads here and there: it was the greek alphabet. She was somewhere in Greece.

The wind picked up again, and soon it tore at Maxence's clothes and yanked at her hair. She slowed down, tugging at Asura's sleeve. "We should find shelter," she yelled over the roaring of the wind. Frankly, Maxence had expected Asura to protest; he had been very insistent that they get as far from Egypt as they could, and fast. But when he turned around, he merely nodded, his jaw set and face paler than usual. His knuckles had turned white around the handle of the duffel bag.

Maxence growled in annoyance when the first drops fell from the sky, battering against her glasses and blurring her vision. Plucking them off her nose, she hastily wiped them clean with her shirt, knowing that it was of little use. She tried to cover her glasses as much as she could without completely blocking her vision.

Making a full turn, she frantically scanned the buildings around them for a hotel, or a restaurant, or somewhere they could crash and sit out the rain. A café on the corner of a street caught her attention, flickering lights inside indicating that it was open. "There," she told Asura, pointing in the direction of the café. He looked at her with a slight hint of panic in his dark eyes, his black hair dripping wet and his breathing heavy. Maxence sighed, grabbing his free hand and started pulling him towards the shop.

The first few steps Asura had to be literally yanked along, but then he seemed to register where they were going, and he started running, quickly leaving Maxence behind and barreling through the café entrance. Maxence sighed, but slipped through the door only moments later.

The little shop wasn't crowded with people, but also wasn't empty. An elderly couple sat in a corner, sipping on hot cups of tea and sharing a pastry, looking up with an sympathetic smile when Asura and Maxence entered. A young man sat on a table of his own, scribbling into a notebook, and behind him sat a group of three middle-aged ladies idly chatting over a steaming cup of coffee.