✳ Scene: “Three Is a Magic Number”
The rooftop rescue, and the night Hermes nearly broke all the rules.
Evening falls.
Laura’s on a rooftop garden above an apartment block — little herbs in cracked pots, fairy lights strung between vents. She’s pulling tarot for herself.
She doesn’t notice the van parked crookedly below. Not at first.
Hermes is working late. Last package. The city’s gone purple in dusk.
As he floats toward the next address, something pulls in his gut. A tug. Wrongness. A thread that burns.
He hears Laura’s voice — only not really. More like her absence. Like something’s wrong where she should be.
He speeds up.
Three men. Suits. Fake smiles. Real cruelty.
Human trafficking, maybe. Dark business. One grabs her wrist. Another blocks the fire escape.
They don’t see him land.
They don’t hear the wind shift.
But suddenly, they stop smiling.
Hermes steps forward. Calm. Hood up. Wings out.
His eyes aren’t playful anymore.
“This rooftop’s closed.”
“So is your story.”
The first man lunges — and trips.
Over nothing.
Falls from the roof. Cracks the silence wide open.
The other two run.
Not because they’re scared of Hermes.
Because something ancient just looked at them like they were ants.
Later:
Laura sits on the edge of the roof, still shaking slightly.
“You were fast.”
Hermes leans on the railing next to her.
“I’m always fast.”
He means: I was almost too late.
She doesn’t speak.
Then she says:
“Three is a magic number.”
“One died.”
“Two ran.”
“And you… you chose to stay.”
❤
Godmode: Enabled 