Scene: A Night Walk

Night time in Garden City. But the City is silent tonight. Too silent. I don't know what's bugging me tonight, but I just really don't want to be here - alone. The many lights from the streets dispute my feeling of being the last living creature in the world. Maybe I can go to him.]

I open my wardrobe and bring out my only well kept cloth - Lív's swan skin. The only thing I have left of her. I wonder if she would approve of how I use it. I guess she would - I could never do anything wrong in her book. Plenty of wrongs in my own though. I drop my clothes and slip into the soft feathered dress. It feels warm. Like being held in her embrace.

I slip up the door to my Juliet balcony, and feel the unfiltered city rush me - the sound of cars, the smell of air post-rain, the cold autumn wind greeting my face. Then comes the part I will never get used to. I take a step op on the balustrade and set off - Like I remember seeing Lív do it. A jump and I'm out in the air. In one instant a ghostly woman falling, the next an elegant swan diving gracefully before setting for the sky.

I am often hit by the doubt of whether I actually belong here, in this city. But then I fly above it, and I know I did the right thing moving here. This is my home. These are my rooftops. This is my night sky.

I soar high enough to get a good view of the lit net of streets and veer of towards Falk's penthouse. A path I have flown enough to know by heart. My heart saddens as I come near enough to see the lack of light from his windows. Is he asleep, or is he out risking his life again? The backside of being entangled with a wildhunter is having to expect either outcome as equally positive.

I make a quick circle around his place, checking for open windows. No luck, good thing I know where he keeps his spare key. I slow down and make a decent landing in the patio, if I have to say so myself. I quickly produce his spare key, and unlock the door. Silence is all that greets me. I still nourish a little hope that I will find him sleeping on the couch or in bed, but a quick sneak around the appartment reveals his absence. I guess I'm entertaining myself tonight after all.

Sometimes I wonder whether I'm more in his appartment than he is. I once joked that he should let a kobold move in to help him take care of the place, but I honestly don't know if one even would. They are pretty picky about whether a place is a 'home' or not. I think Falk's place only qualifies as such when I'm here. To him it's a place to store clothes and unused furniture.

I turn on the light in the sizeable combined living and dining room and run a finger across his mahoganey dinner table in passing. I should at least let him know what he's missing out on. He once showed me that he keeps a polaroid camera in one of these cubbards. A hobby he never really found the time for.
Bingo!

And a high end one by the look of it. I sport a devilish grin as I let my swan skin drop to the floor and head for his leather couch in all of my natural glory. I snap a few tasteful selfies - and a couple less classy ones as well. The most modest one I put on his fridge. The other graceful ones I tape sporadically to wooden panels along the path to his bedroom, where I spread the filthy ones across his bed.

"Is it too much?" I ask myself out loud, as if expecting an answer.

No, he needs to know what he missed out on. And probably needs a reminder of the joys in life too. I know I do after my own hunts. Fuck. What is this life that we're living? I return to the living room and slip back into the swan skin - the novelty of nudity has come and gone. Somewhere in his fridge of scarcely placed instant dinners and beer, I produce a can and open it on my way to the patio. Out here in the cold, the can slowly empties while the sounds of civilization fight to drain out my feeling of insignificance. This city doesn't give a damn whether I'm here or not, does it?

I put down the empty can and take a few steps back. This time I want to feel the rush. Feel everything. I start running, denying my body the natural response of stopping near the edge and take a leap.

Out

Down

I drop

I am falling

Oh, God

Is this how I die?

Only then does dress become feathers, and I turn. At the limit of my bravery and the pinnacle of my fear. My heart could burst from my chest. In one thing I am now certain - I wish to live. The adrenaline - the intensity overwhelms me. If you wonder if swans can cry, do so no longer.

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