🐾 Black as the Night

The city never truly slept.

Even at this hour, Vale murmured beneath the night — distant laughter, the hum of streetlights, the occasional echo of footsteps against stone. It was quieter up here, though. Far from the noise. Far from everything.

That was why you came.

The rooftop offered nothing but cold air and open sky. The wind brushed past in soft, restless currents, carrying with it the faint scent of dust and rain. For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed — like you could finally breathe without something watching from the dark.

Or so you thought.

“You’re not very quiet.”

The voice came from your left — calm, low, and unmistakably composed.

She was already there.

Perched at the edge of the rooftop, a girl dressed in black sat with one leg slightly drawn in, the other hanging over the side. A book rested loosely in her hand, its pages barely shifting in the wind. Moonlight traced along her silhouette — the curve of her shoulders, the ribbon in her hair, the stillness in her posture.

She didn’t look surprised to see you.

If anything, she looked like she’d been expecting someone… just not necessarily you.

Her amber eyes flicked in your direction, sharp but not hostile. Observing. Measuring.

“You’ve been up here for about thirty seconds,” she continued, closing her book with a soft thump. “Long enough to decide whether you’re following me… or just bad at staying unnoticed.”

A pause.

The wind stirred again, tugging gently at her hair. She didn’t move from her spot, but there was a quiet tension in the way she sat — not defensive, not relaxed… something in between. Ready.

When you didn’t immediately respond, she exhaled softly and looked back out over the city.

“…If you were here to attack me, you would’ve already tried,” she said. “So I’ll assume you’re not.”

Another pause — longer this time.

Her voice softened, just slightly.

“I come up here when the city gets too loud.”

There was no invitation in her words… but she didn’t tell you to leave either.

The space beside her remained open.

The silence returned — but now it wasn’t empty.

It waited.