Here is my response to La Plume Noire Challenge, First Sight #5: Dusk, Dust, Drear. It is based in Guttersnipe 'verse, and I've pushed the boundaries of prose for I've got one line of dialogue (Cal is losing her mind and can't remember what prose is anymore, blame it on the midterm papers).
Catch As Catch Can
At first it was just a shadow, barely discernible from the rest of the darkness, but on closer inspection—when the lamplight cast its glow into the umbrage just right—it was clearly a man. From Regan’s perch above him on the roof, she could see his pale face, calm and lax, and his pale hands her folded neatly on the top one spike in a line of picket fence; all in all, a calm composite of repose. She scoffed at him. Apparently, he thinks I’m going to waltz right down to him nice and proper. Regan scratched her wrist, debating whether to spend the night huddle on the roof or to test her luck and make a run for it. The man’s stance below piqued her to run. Regan didn’t fancy being taken into custody again and certainly not by this man or one of his fellow Etrazia. Oh, she knew without being told that the men who had come to get her and who were currently after her were part of the secret police. From their sleek, black suits and ebony double-breasted frock coats cut in military style, to the clipped sound their boots made on the cobblestones and the leisurely way they stalked their marks, all distinctive features of the Etrazia, the secret police of the Fortress. The most telling characteristic was the way they spoke—in soft, hushed tones that seemed more like code than actual sentences.
Even with the treat of capture looming, Regan was tempted to end the bizarre game of hide and seek and run, if only for a hot cup of coffee and a warm bed.
True, she had slept on rooftops before, but those memories felt as if from another lifetime, the one before Bethel. Just the remembrance of the place she now called home sent trickles of fire out from her heart.
She supposed she could wait out the man, but she doubted he would give up easily. It had been following her for three days, now.
A shiver spiraled through Regan’s body and she hunkered farther down in the shallow recess between the building’s chimneys.
Regan glanced down at the man again; he hadn’t moved, something in her sparked, warming her far better than her coat. Stubborn, she thought, well I do stubborn just fine.
Morning came, and Regan still on the roof, cursed the cold as she tried to untangle her limbs. She looked to where the man had been the night before, and a smile ghosted across her lips, he was gone. She smiled and raised her face to the sky; the clouds had gathered and slowly at first raindrops plopped in a staccato rhythm on her skin. Still, she smiled. Today, today was going to be a good day.
Regan scampered down from the roof and slipped into one of the side streets, even with her lifted spirits she kept a sharp eye out for any Etrazia. It was a deluge now, water sloshing everywhere, and Regan annexed herself the edges of the building in hope of staying as dry as possible. Her gloves and the bottom of her sleeves were soaked as well as her hat. Every now and then, a stray rivulet of rain would run down her forehead and blur her vision. At a cross-section of streets Regan huddled in a doorway, the cold having slowly seeped into her, so that she shivered. She thought maybe if she went left it would take her to the harbor, she could get aboard a ferry there. More isolated than a train, it would put more distance between the Etrazia and her. She new she couldn’t not deliberate much longer, so Regan went left.
Regan sighed, if she was home, Archie would have fixed her a cup of hot cocoa and they would be huddled together, probably looking at catalogues for a new press for the shop. She would be warm, not just in body, but heart-warm, as well. As Regan continued down the street, she breathed in the salty sea air. The storm was letting up, and the tang of fish overpowered the heavy, moldy sent of the rain. Regan moved faster, willing her stiff joint to hurry up.
She could see the ferry office now, and she bounded towards it. There didn’t seem to be many people on waiting in line, no sign of the Etrazia and Regan fought the urge to cackle: Regan, three, Etrazia, one.
It wasn’t long before Regan was at the window buying a ticket for the ferry, she dumped out some change for the young woman manning the booth, and once she had the ticket in her hand hurried off to find a place to sit.
As Regan slid down the gangplank and into the hole of the ship, she grinned. She had made it. Just as she adjusted her knapsack, so she could sit comfortably, she felt a slight tingle along the back of her neck. Thinking it was just the crick in her neck from sleeping on that horrid roof, she forced her head around, and looked straight into the eyes of an Etrazia. In fact, it was the same one who had been camped below her the night before.
Damn.
The man nodded and before Regan could tell him off, he showed his gun. Regan narrowed her eyes and sunk farther into her seat. Regan refused to look at the man. After a few moments, he sat down beside her. She could hear him ruffle in his pockets for something, and then he touched her shoulder. Regan whipped around eager to chastise him, but she pressed her lips in a tight line when she saw what he had in his outstretched hand—a packet of black licorice.
“Want some?” He murmured, gesturing out with his hand.
Regan scowled at him and then proceeded to eat it all.
