"Oyibo akata winch," Sunny murmured. White girl. Foreign girl. Witch.
"Here," she told him. She climbed steps and let them into the building--in that sweet spot of both too old and too new to be fashionable--and then up a couple of flights of stairs to her apartment.
It was very much a student's apartment--small, furnished on the cheap, and the tiny kitchen table was clearly doubling as a desk the way it was covered in laptop and books, but perfectly tidy. And care had been taken to make it comfortable, in the usual ways and... less usual. The walls were laced with spells and covered with pictures of her family, her friends. Her father was conspicuously absent from most of them.
"I don't invite many people here," she admitted, almost shyly. It was one of the few places in London she could be exactly what she was in peace.
no subject
"Here," she told him. She climbed steps and let them into the building--in that sweet spot of both too old and too new to be fashionable--and then up a couple of flights of stairs to her apartment.
It was very much a student's apartment--small, furnished on the cheap, and the tiny kitchen table was clearly doubling as a desk the way it was covered in laptop and books, but perfectly tidy. And care had been taken to make it comfortable, in the usual ways and... less usual. The walls were laced with spells and covered with pictures of her family, her friends. Her father was conspicuously absent from most of them.
"I don't invite many people here," she admitted, almost shyly. It was one of the few places in London she could be exactly what she was in peace.