Cracking the Windtraps

[Unseelie]

When the gladiator had settled down just outside the villa she grew up around, a small house near a lemon tree. Since she'd left, her mother away to Zoner worlds for years...the staff had left, and the tree dried up, choked on the soil. On her way to the door, she reached out and grabbed a twig from that tree, tucking it into her pockets as she crossed the threshold.

The windows were down, the comforting flicker of the heatscreans gone. In her room, her things were sparse, scattered by the winds. On her bed, a quilt, marked with an ancient coat of arms. A Bretonian thing, Gram had given her.

With the quilt, she flew to the Spaceport, and hammered on the door of Juan Montoya's apartments. She needed to access council records.

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