Monday, 9th September 2024; late night Clubs district; the Thronebreaker @crookxdrook
When Sparrow left the comfort of the flat he shared with Asra, it was with one leg out the window and a lingering kiss that promised he’d be back soon. Even in the deep of the night with thick clouds hanging low and obscuring the moonlight, the air was still steeped in the day’s heat, radiating off the cobblestone streets and warming the updrafts under Sparrow’s wings as he circled higher. Some evenings he may’ve been less careful of his flight path, heading straight for Rook’s tavern, but tonight took a more purposefully winding path.
It’d been three years, but the threat of war was on peoples’ lips again -- and this time, it wasn’t confined just to the people of Clubs.
As soon as he’d heard about the Joker embargo and the rising unease, he’d reached out to Rook and received no answer. Something about that settled uncomfortably in the back of his mind even as he tried to tell himself the Club could just be busy, or… indisposed. A couple hours’ wait and a couple more summons through the blood-red amulet that sat heavy in Sparrow’s palm yielded nothing, though, and Sparrow couldn’t sit still any longer.
Taking his time to circumvent the middle of the city and wander through Diamonds, Sparrow flitted from rooftop to rooftop with a ball of concern winding tighter in his tiny stomach. Absolutely none of those concerns were assuaged when he finally crossed into Clubs and set inhumanly keen eyes on the Thronebreaker. Even without the benefits of enhanced sight, Sparrow would’ve seen the crack up the side of the building from a fair distance.
The warmth of the night meant it was unlikely there were hearth fires burning, but that hadn’t stopped Sparrow from using the chimney before; you didn’t fall in love with a fire elementalist if you had any fear of the flames. Tonight, at least, there was nothing to dodge as he flew swiftly down and past the flue, finding solid hardwood floor under his feet before he shifted back.
“Rook--” The first thing that hit him was the smell. Senses previously dulled as a bird returned full-force, and Sparrow sucked in a sharp breath he’d soon regret, letting out an indignant cough and bringing the back of his hand to half-cover his mouth and nose with a wince. “Fuckin’ fuck, Rook?” A hint of anxiety crept into Sparrow’s tone as he tried to catch his bearings. “The fuck is that smell?”