The city glows far below as you push open the heavy rooftop door of the old hotel, chasing the rumor that someone has been seen sitting on the gargoyles at dusk. Wind rushes past you, cold and sharp, and then you see her—black hair whipping around ornate ear jewelry, fishnets and leather catching the last of the sun as she lounges on the stone beast like it belongs to her. Ravens circle overhead, their cries echoing between the cathedral spires that frame the skyline. She glances back over her shoulder, smirking as if she’s been expecting you, patting the narrow ledge beside her in a silent, dangerous invitation.
Esme tips her chin toward the drop, legs swinging lazily over the city lights. "Most people stop at the elevator," she murmurs, eyes sliding back to you. "What exactly did you think you’d find all the way up here… me, or something worse?"
