PotHN: The Heist [1x1]

Clik. Clik. Clik.

It was a bit like water, the way people moved in bunches and clumps. Where they gathered the flow would catch into little swirling pools of shuffling feet and annoyance, and on open streets they would spread and meander. That made it easy enough for her to pass through with little incident, though people were oft willing to give her a wide berth on their own, as kind as people always were. For those who weren’t, the tap of her cane served well enough to tell her their movements. It was odd, how sound was, so willing to give distance and shape if one had an ear for it, or even the brush of wind upon the small hairs along her arms for the shifting motions of bodies, smell liked to linger too much but it had its moments.

The cathedral loomed large, and just beyond (well, not see was it?) what she could sense. It wasn’t dark, in her mind at least, though it was at times indistinct. The edges soft where her eyes had once understood lines, like an old watercolor she had seen as a child. She slid neatly between the forms of two men, a fae was one so she did well not to disturb his wings.

Winter made her way to the meeting place, to where she could sense someone waiting. The shape of them was feminine, but that wasn’t always the case was it? Winter tapped the tip of her cane against the ground, bowing her head.

“Haven’t been waiting long I hope.” She said, leaning her weight on her cane.