The Drifting Leaf was quiet that night.
Rain pattered gently against the translucent canopy that arched over the inn's upper floors, the droplets glowing faintly blue as they rolled down the living wood walls. The air smelled faintly of spice, smoke, and rain-soaked moss—a scent both alien and familiar.
Lucian sat at one of the low tables near the window, hands clasped loosely, staring at the shifting city lights outside. Reia sat across from him, working through lines of data on her wrist module. Silas occupied a stool by the wall, polishing his gauntlets, while Vyn leaned against a support pillar, half in shadow, half in thought.
Kaelis perched lazily on the back of a chair, wings tucked in tight. [Remind me why we're staying in a plant again?] he muttered, tail flicking.
Reia didn't look up. "Because it's discreet. The organic architecture makes it harder for scanners to read life signatures."
[Uh-huh. And the smell? That part of the strategy too?]
