EMILY
This isn't so bad.
She was seated in a booth in the far back of the diner, the velvet cushioning of the booth smooth and lovely under her fingers, the scent of frying eggs and bacon wafting in the air.
It had been a full year since she'd last stepped out of her home and had expected to be completely thrown off by all the activity of the world. Yes, getting here had been a struggle, but not so much when she'd fallen into the uneven rhythm of the eatery; the bell over the door jingling as patrons came and went, the people shouting and whispering, mugs slamming and newspaper crinkling.
She could hardly remember what she'd been so afraid of.
"Your order, miss."
She impressed herself by not jumping all the way out of her seat when the waiter arrived with her meal.
She pulled her headscarf closer around her face, blushing at her lap as her meal was placed before her, twiddling her thumbs until the pressure of being so close to another person eased off of her.
She steadied her breath before looking at the food. The waffles were stacked perfectly and sprinkled in cinnamon, the scent mingling with that of the coffee she hadn't ordered. She'd wanted tea. It was her fault anyway for pointing at the menu instead of speaking, but her voice had come out as a squeak when she'd tried to place her order. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used it.
She'd never much cared for coffee, but that's what today was about—new experiences.
She'd grown comfortable living in her fear, used to the taunting from her own mind. Misery had been all she'd known for so long. And in a strange roundabout way…she almost enjoyed it.
Being alone in one place for so long… She imagined it was what drowning felt like. Struggling for so long, trying to keep her head above all the darkness inside of her, being pulled farther and farther away from the world around her until the dark was all she knew and swimming didn't seem to be all that worth it any more.
But yesterday had been different. She hadn't floated or been pulled. It felt like she'd been thrown, like a wave have flung her back onto the shore and for the first time in a long time she could see where the dark stopped.
It scared her in its own way at first. But then she realised that it meant, maybe, she could do something, anything that the dark had been holding her back from.
And so she went out for breakfast.
The day was going far better than she'd expected it to.
"Good day, Miss Moone."
She jerked, nearly spilling the scalding coffee on herself. A man and woman slipped into the booth, sitting across from her. Emily set her cup down and looked up at the strangers.
They were dressed in matching black suits with deep red trimming. Bright red ties rested atop their crisp white dress shirts. They both stared at her with hazel eyes.
Her heart skipped in her chest. They knew who she was. They were dressed in business clothes. It could only mean one thing.
'Miss Moone, we've come to take you to the office,' she could already hear them say.
"Have you ever envisioned a world where man does not have to destroy to survive?" the woman said instead.
Emily was too confused to respond.
The woman went on talking. "It was not too long ago that our ambition led us to soil the rivers, fill the sky with ash. Even still we suffer the effects of our hubris -the Dust Bowl might never recover."
"But there is hope yet," the man pipes up. Emily couldn't help thinking that the display had been rehearsed. He went on talking for what felt like hours but she could hardly hear him despite his droning. She could only sit there, staring at the knot in his tie, praying for the end of the confrontation.
She might have been able to bear his monologue if he hadn't reached out his hand to place it atop here.
Emily shot up from her seat, rattling the table, sending the cup of coffee spilling over, dark liquid flowing across the table. She grabbed napkins to sop up the mess before it could spill over the table, but the woman grabbed her wrist.
"Come with us."
She didn't pull away as instinct would have forced her to. In fact, she wanted the woman's hand to be around her wrist, no matter the amount of force she put in her hold.
When she met the woman's deep brown eyes, she knew she would follow her anywhere.
The man and woman got up and started out of the diner and Emily couldn't help following them. She only stopped at the counter, reaching into her purse for money to pay her bill, but the woman put an arm around her shoulders and with a look at the cashier, led Emily out of the establishment.
"Which is your vehicle?" the man asked. Emily nodded at a black automobile parked in the street, not caring to think about how he could possibly know that she had one. He held out his hand to her, saying nothing, but somehow she knew he wanted her keys. She fished on her purse for them and handed them over without hesitation.
He unlocked the car and opened the back seat door for Emily and the woman to enter. Emily didn't care where they were taking her or what on earth was happening. All she knew was that she wanted to be with both of them.
"I'm Sandra," the woman said. "And my associate here is Sebastian."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Sebastian said, looking at her in the rear view mirror. She nodded stupidly at him. She caught the hint of a sly smile in the mirror but she thought nothing of it.
He drove them through and out of the city centre, taking several turns that Emily was sure were unnecessary. But she didn't mind. She was content to just be in the car with them.
It was well into the evening when the car finally stopped. Sandra led her out of the car by the hand and Emily was glad to follow. Nothing else in the world mattered beyond her hand in Sandra's.
There was a lot of walking but Emily didn't mind where they were going. She could only remember the aching of her heart when Sandra set her in a chair and let go of her hand, walking off behind her. Emily turned to see where she was going but stopped at the sound of a voice
"Good evening, Miss Moone."
The man standing before her was dressed in a black suit, not unlike Sandra and Sebastian's. His white hair was slicked back on his head, his fingers adorned with silver rings. She could hardly see his face as he was backlit by a steady glowing light. The man encompassed the word sinister.
"It is my pleasure to have you here," he said, adjusting his tie. "I am Alistair Schotz, shepherd of the Dragon's Crusade. I would like to conduct business with you."