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Nov. 1st, 2015 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
manofbusinessChildermass decides to take a room, just until this Halloween transformation wears off. It's a plain little room, hardly more than a bed and a washstand, but good enough for him. He sleeps.
***
He sits up. Someone is in the room, standing by the window - she turns, and he knows her.
"About time", says Black Joan, unsentimental as ever. "We have things to talk about, my lad."
They talk for a long time, though Childermass is never afterwards certain how long, and he does not clearly remember what passes between them in parts of the discussion.
He does, however, recall embracing her one last time, briefly, in farewell, and her parting words to him.
"There's a young man not long come to York, John. He will begin it. Keep a weather eye."
Keep a weather eye.
And then, like mist, she's gone.
***
He sits up. Someone is in the room, standing by the window - she turns, and he knows her.
"About time", says Black Joan, unsentimental as ever. "We have things to talk about, my lad."
They talk for a long time, though Childermass is never afterwards certain how long, and he does not clearly remember what passes between them in parts of the discussion.
He does, however, recall embracing her one last time, briefly, in farewell, and her parting words to him.
"There's a young man not long come to York, John. He will begin it. Keep a weather eye."
Keep a weather eye.
And then, like mist, she's gone.
