Meeting of Families

[Eidolon]

When she was done she returned without a word to the kitchen, where she kept herself busy until service began to pick up, and her bubble of isolation became too much of a nuisance to maintain. She was about to slip back upstairs when a quiet thud outside drew her attention instead to the open door. Amidst the general noise and music no one around her noticed, but Eido paused to listen for more. The weight had not been the delicate padfoot of an alley cat, and the area beyond was locked and secured; not somewhere a drunk or vagrant might easily settle for the night. There were a few creatures she could think of that might prey in such a prowling way, but the surrounding light and bustle made it an unlikely prospect, and there was no apparent lure – just patient silence. After a moment of scrutiny, faint spider-silk traces of vapour made it clear the trespasser outside must be human. Everything was still after that, like nothing but a figment of overwrought imagination had stirred her to attention. The kitchen continued on its routines, oblivious.

Beyond her kaiken, she had no weapon to defend herself or others, and the knife was hardly meant for that. She felt some small relief. It ought to be Gus’s problem now; it was his bar to protect, and his staff who might later lean out into the darkness for a smoke break or breath of air. Eido could forewarn him, and leave it at that. But she could suddenly feel her heart pounding in her chest, and it held her in stillness. Its rhythm was not fast with fear, but loud and heavy, each beat stolen from a death six years ago, and a flagrant reminder that she had no right to be here. She had no reason to suspect a hunter after all this time, but the heavy yoke of guilt around her neck prickled her skin with both trepidation and yearning. Because it was possible, and it was a duty that called her even from the mire of her own dishonour.

She went without hesitation, slow and deliberate. For a moment she stood in the doorway, limned by the light, the shadows beyond deepened and sooty to her nightblind eyes. If her sin was ever to be balanced, she was not sure she wanted to see the hand which took what she could not, and least of all the look in her deliverer’s eye before the act, whether it be mercy, or pity, or disgust. For a veil of last sight she would rather see the stars, but there were none above when she looked, just the stain of city lights. Home was so very far away.

“Why are you out here?” Her gaze did not seek to fathom the outline of whoever waited, or where they might hide, though it did return from the heavens down to the earth – lower, if that were possible. If they emerged, she would only see their feet. She finally stepped out, pulling the door close behind her, until the triangle of light from inside squeezed to a sliver. Her English was only dusted with accent, her tone soft and absent the demand the words might suggest. She didn’t stray far into the darkness. Her hands folded softly at her waist.