The night shadows claimed her, enveloped her like a lover drawing her into an embrace. Her shoulders hunched as if to ward from the cold but Cheryth was wise enough to know the gesture was to ward from her emotions. Remembering the past had drawn upon a weariness within her spirit as easy as a violinist to draw a bow upon strings. Even in the night she could hear music.

It was not so strange to believe that a district of wealth would populate the night with the elegance of sound. A symphony that brought the Artist to pause. A crescendo of desparation and longing that seemed mated not with notes but with a voice. A... scream?

Strangled into silence.

From London to New Orleans, the Artist would not so easily forget the sweet, copper aroma of that which she had denied herself for so long. Head flung back to look toward the night sky she drew in a deep breath and scented the air.

It was a subtle movement as the involuntary shudder of pleasure rippled along her limbs. A parting of lips to exhale a soft sound of desire and longing before she bit her lip, cutting off the sound.

There would be none of that.

She did not move to rush to the defense of a dying harlot. Cheryth was many things but she was not an avenging angel. Never a vigilante for those that had turned from her. Women.

At least in this turn of time some of the women were more reasonable... more...independent.

The azure blue fire of her eyes darted towards a window as the product of an English nobleman and a French harlot looked upon more then the night. The porcelain visage of Cheryth's facade paled even more as it seemed she was being tricked by time itself.

Another step back and the woman stumbled out into the street. Her arms wrapped around her stomach as if to hold herself together. Cheryth had always been a strong woman but this moment felt as if her spirit was being torn to shreds.

"Non... It cannot be..."

Just like the first moment.

Not in the bar when she had first caught a glimpse of him in London. The moment he had ended up on the doorstep of the Elder Edmund Winters. The night when he had stood on the doorstep and become something more to her. He had saved her from a life of enforced servitude as an Elder's wife and prize.

The memories made her sullen and bittersweet with longing as she gazed upon the light burning through the hazy gauze of the curtains. The curtains parted and Cheryth drew in a shaky breath and stood her ground.

Funny the thought.

So long ago it had been him on the doorstep and she at the window. My times had changed.

The thought brought a fragment of a smile upon her lips as the azure blue fire of her eyes gazed from beneath the shimmering black lattice work of her veiled hat. She was grateful for the veil between their eyes. It shaded the regret those blue eyes possessed. Defiance and Independence had made her a fool.

She never should have left his side...

After all this time she would be a fool to believe that they could just return to the way things once were. Cheryth turned away and put her back to the window as she took the first steps to walk away.

Turning her back was the most reasonable way she knew how to hide her tears.