I don't remember many other places before Port Elizabeth. I have brief snippets of memories gently knitted into some kind of remembrance of the life we had led prior to the city we lived in until my family moved to the United States. The city had never felt like a cage, then. Port Elizabeth was sprawling enough that there was always a facet I had never seen or experienced. My sisters brought us cliff diving, and when the jumps tired us out they would bring us to tiny cafes or street vendors. There was a vibrance we were able to experience that made the city feel far more worldly than it was. By the time I was living in the compound that the rebel gang had acquired, I had seen every end of the city and desired the freedom they offered me by riding the wings of a multitude of nefarious and illegal means. I hadn't minded then, my judgment clouded by a handful of other illegal means, but it was then that I learned one city was too small for me. I couldn't imagine living in a world where I was bound to one place; even now, living in this city I felt as if I were to be constantly rattling the bars of my cage. In hearing that Serafina had never left the city, I wanted to shake the bars of my cage and release her from her own.

Unfortunately, those bars were the only form of metal I couldn't seem to destroy.

"There are a great many ways of rectifying that," I started to say, thoughtfully raising a brow in contemplation of the creative ways that her lack of legal existence could benefit her. Coming and going as she pleased, disappearing if she so desired... And then again, perhaps it was only I that so desired such solitude. " Both your lack of adventures outside the city and your legal existence on paper. Though I don't know why anyone might want to remedy the latter," I finished wryly, offering her an excuse to leave the topic of her experiences behind. As for the insinuated adventures, they were innocent in nature. While there was a large part of me that often desired to do things that might give horror movie script writers a run for their money, there was a far greater part of me that simply desired adventure. I had always loved fairytales, stories, and any account of adventure. Who wouldn't want a wardrobe that led to a fantastical world where the things that were possible were so far out of your reach, yet the snow was tangible and you could nearly taste the freedom? I wanted to understand how life truly felt and I had a tongue for such poetry as when the air tastes so sweet you wish you could drink it. Or how the gentle waves on a riverside feel as they lap your feet in the dead of night and instill such a sense of serenity that you find your mind wandering dreams that don't often tempt your waking conscious. I don't usually want to share those experiences, or the poetry because it seems as if no one wants to understand it as desperately as I have.

And yet, the vivid appreciation in the young witch's eyes as her soft words were whispered in validation roused a desire in me to share such figurative poetry.

It took a moment's strength to keep from meeting her lips with my own, but I had been reminded if only by the attendees that I had more or less programmed to keep me on my best behavior, that I was to be chaste and nothing but chivalrous. Instead, I let my fingers gently brush her upper arm as she reached up for me.

As food and drink were served, it became increasingly easy to relax and admire the young witch before me. Her gaze fell to the envelope with her name on it; as it was supposed to. That alone gave me reason to smile a little less brightly and a little more mischievously as if I understood the inner workings in the mind of the very Cheshire cat himself. I had expected her attention to be drawn by the envelope, but I was pleasantly surprised when Serafina looked up at me from the envelop quickly, her smile brightening her features and allowing me a moment to be transfixed before relegating myself to focusing on her words instead of watching her lips as she spoke. The attendant refilling water glasses nodded at me, as if approving of my gesture.

"Perhaps he wasn't looking hard enough, then," I mused thoughtfully after a moments pause in the wake of her words. At the mention of her mentor, the witch seemed to introvert briefly, which led me to believe that this territory needed to be touched with delicate hands, and perhaps reserved for a later date (maybe not a figurative date so much as a numerical, calendar date). "The art seems kind of boundless â€" " I trailed off, noting her attention drawn to the envelope again and I couldn't help the short, amused laugh that followed. Fortunately it was I that had the cat and perhaps this woman didn't, as surely it would have been killed by her evident curiosity. "Are you sure you want to ruin the suspense?"

I took a slow sip of my drink, before nodding. "Yeah, open it." Inside the envelope was the stone I had been working on while I was sitting in her shop, awaiting the potion I had ordered. Just outside the shop I had found a block of coal that must have been from a fireplace or something arbitrary, but it lay there for the taking and I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. It was almost a nervous tic for me, at least, to work on things like the lump of coal if they fell into my hands; besides, I'd heard the metaphor related to me more than once. Coal can turn into a diamond, if given the correct care and tenacity. I had intended for just that, molding the coal into one of the brightest, largest, and most artistic diamonds I had ever managed. And when I realized I had never focused so much on a stone as in her presence, I felt it only right that this became her payment.

"Now... You implied I owed you greatly for your thorough customer service, yeah?" My accent had slipped. " If you choose to sell it, I'm 100% confident that you will get more than enough to pay for some upgrades for your shop or ... I guess whatever you chose." Do I ramble often? Silently, I wished for the stone to be in my hand then. "But if you choose to keep it, would you let me set it in a pendant for you?"

It was impossible to believe that it had been as much time as had passed, but the bell on the Eiffel tower rang gently, and I almost wished I hadn't been able to lose myself as entirely as I had in the conversation- woman, at hand.