There is a house, and in the house is a bed, and in the bed is a girl. She sleeps soundly, curled up very small under her blanket, while a steady accumulation of snow makes round soft piles on the roof and against the outsides of the walls.
...
She will fret. And patrol the reflected corridors of the house looking for a good time to sneak downstairs and get more food without having to interact with any humans.
Good. Now she can eat breakfast.
And...
...and do what, really? What is there to do? Where is there to go? She lives in a city now. This is wrong. Cities are full of people and people are troublesome.
Well... she did get all that parkour.
Maybe she can go climbing.
There is really quite a lot of city.
No matter how high she climbs, how far she walks, there is always more. More strange, mismatched architecture. More concrete towers and stone columns, wood construction intermingled with metal.
... This is wrong.
This is too much city. There needs to be less city. Why is there so much city. This is much worse than too much parkour. Too much parkour is an oddity; too much city is - is -
How high does she have to climb, how far does she have to run, to get away?
She can levitate.
She can just go up, and keep going up, as fast as she can run, until the only things close enough to reflect in her selfspace are her body and the clouds.
She can. But eventually her muscles will begin to tire, especially in this thin air. She cannot remain in the sky forever.
She can remain in the sky for a while. Long enough to calm down, and then long enough to study the city from horizon to horizon. How is it so big? Why is it so big? Who would do this terrible thing?
The city does not have answers for her.
But if she had to guess... the Shadows seem like good candidates.
Shadows are bad.
She floats down to the top of a skyscraper and perches on the edge. Why is everything so terrible. What is she going to do. This is the worst thing that has happened to her.
She jumps up in startlement, and one movement flows into another, and she is halfway across the roof before she calms down enough to pause and look back.
Well then, Riya can just. Stay. Up here. Forever.
...
No. She cannot do that. That is not a thing she can do.
...
She slowly lowers herself back toward the roof, eyeing the other girl warily. When she is just barely close enough for the other girl to have a reflection in her selfspace, she stops to examine it. What are this stranger's properties?