Iridian

10. NORTHBOUND

.memory (fragment #9)

It was freezing at Heathrow when we disembarked at dawn. The jacket I had on didn't seem to be enough to ward off the chill. Despite the cold, Dante seemed inordinately cheerful and I couldn't help but be infected by his jaunty mood. Already my family and old life seemed so remote and though I missed them awfully, a part of me was also excited to be where I now was. I had never been so far away from home and everything I saw, heard, smelled was new and interesting.

The city of London was stirring as the taxi wove its way through the streets and I was caught up by sights and sounds that were so foreign to me. Tall buildings, both old and new fused into a patchwork of muted colours that reflected the ancientness of this city. For that moment, whatever pang of sadness I'd felt was temporarily swept away. I watched in fascination as people rushed by to their jobs, moving to the beat of an unheard tempo like a mass organism sharing a singular mind. Not all that different from my home, but the tempo here was so much faster.

The taxi dropped us off at the elegant lobby of a large hotel. A porter rushed over to help with the luggage as Dante checked us in. I wandered about, feeling very small and out of place in the huge, marble-lined reception, very much aware that I was a fish out of water. But before I could start to feel truly uncomfortable, Dante grabbed my arm and steered me to the elevator.

We booked into a suite that was quite different from the one we'd just left—this one a little less minimalist and a little more geared towards old-fashioned comfort. I flopped on the large, soft couch as the porter dropped off the luggage just inside the door.

"Hey, get some rest if you're tired," Dante said, nodding his head in the direction of the bed. "We won't be staying the full night. I want to get moving around midnight but before that, we need to sort out your documents and do some shopping. So it's going to be a long day."

"Shop for what?" I mumbled, my eyes already drooping at half-mast.

"Clothes. For you."

"I don't need more clothes. You already got me a lot of stuff."

I yawned, thinking of the large full suitcase the poor porter had manfully lugged. The prospect of shopping for clothes wasn't one I was too keen on. I honestly admit to having no taste and everything I wore was geared towards comfort. I wasn't the browsing type. I walked into a shop, found what I wanted and walked out. Luna used to complain that shopping me with me was like shopping with a man because I didn't understand her need to try on everything in sight and then not buy anything at all.

"Those won't work too well in this weather," Dante interrupted my inner monologue. "I'm not letting you freeze, so, too bad." It was a tone that brooked no argument. I sighed, dragging myself off the couch. I would definitely need that nap.

About four hours later I found myself standing at a corner intersection, in what had to be the financial district, since there were banks and brokerages and law firms running up and the down the streets. London was a cold, gloomy city filled with dark clad figures moving with purposeful intent. People walked by, mostly ignoring me, though some did cast a curious glance or two in my direction. I, on the other hand, was fascinated by simply watching them.

In the imposing gray building that dominated the corner, Dante was busy exchanging his unused foreign notes. I wanted some air, so I'd stepped outside, getting myself away from the dry stuffiness that permeated the bank. It drizzled lightly, but instead of finding shelter, I simply wrapped my arms tighter about my torso and shoved my hands beneath my sleeves while I waited.

"What are you doing out here? It's freaking cold," Dante said, coming from behind me. He had his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Experiencing English rain. It's so different. Puny," I replied, turning my face to look up into the sky, letting the tiny spatters hit my face.