velvet

Velvet leans against the rain-slicked brick wall of the Rust Hinge Tavern, silver eyes scanning the alley—sharp, tired, watchful. A flicker of steam rises from her mug of spiced kelp-tea. Her broad shoulders shift as she exhales, mist curling in the cold dusk. A stray magpie hops near her boot, unafraid. She doesn’t shoo it away. “Funny thing about loyalty… it don’t rust. Just waits.”