"I got lost," I admitted, which was embarrassing enough without adding the supernatural context.
"In downtown Asheville?" She laughed, but not unkindly. "That's impressive. It's only like six blocks in any direction."
Six blocks. I got lost in six blocks. That's... actually worse than I thought.
"Everything looks the same when you're lost," I said, which was true but didn't make me feel less ridiculous.
Riley leaned back in her chair, studying me with those kind eyes. "So where are you staying tonight?"
Ah. Right. I hadn't thought that far ahead.
"I... hadn't really thought about it," I admitted.
"Do you have family in town? Friends?"
"It's complicated," I said, falling back on my new favorite phrase.
Riley's expression shifted to genuine concern. "Are you okay on your own? I mean, you're..." She gestured at my belly. "You look like you could go into labor any minute."
If only it were that simple.
"I've been living pretty isolated," I said carefully. "I'm not really used to... all this." I waved vaguely at the world beyond the coffee shop windows.
Riley was quiet for a moment, then made a decision. "You can crash at my place tonight."
Crash? Are we going to collide with something?
"Crash?" I asked, confused.
She laughed. "Sorry, slang. You can stay over. Sleep on my couch. It's not huge, but it's better than being alone somewhere when you're that pregnant."
The offer was so immediate, so generous, that I felt something tighten in my chest. When had humans become this kind to strangers?
When I was there for the fall of Rome, people barely helped their own neighbors. This woman is offering shelter to someone she met three hours ago.
"That's incredibly kind of you," I managed. "Thank you."
"Hey, that's what community is for," Riley said, standing up. "Come on, let's get you somewhere comfortable."
The walk to Riley's apartment was short but educational. The buildings grew more residential, though they still looked nothing like the cottages and stone houses I remembered. Everything was larger, more angular, built with materials I didn't recognize.
"That's my building," Riley said, pointing to a structure that rose several stories into the sky. "It's not fancy, but it's home."
We approached what appeared to be the main entrance, and Riley produced a small rectangular object from her pocket. She held it near a black panel beside the door, which immediately made a beeping sound and clicked open.
Magic rectangles that open doors now? How many different types of magic rectangles do humans carry?
"Come on," Riley said, holding the door open.
The interior was well-lit with that same controllable lightning I'd noticed everywhere. But then Riley led me to a small room with doors that opened by themselves.
Moving rooms. They built moving rooms inside their buildings.
"You okay?" Riley asked as I gripped the wall.
"The room is... moving," I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
"Oh! You've never been in an elevator before?" Riley looked surprised. "It's just going up to the third floor. Like stairs, but easier."
Stairs I understand. Stairs don't move on their own.
The moving room—elevator—stopped with a soft chime, and the doors opened to reveal a hallway. I followed Riley to another door, which she opened with a more traditional key.
"Welcome to my humble abode," she said, flipping a switch just inside the door.
Light flooded the space instantly.
She controls fire with tiny switches on the wall.
Riley's apartment was small but comfortable, filled with furniture that looked impossibly soft and colorful. More of the moving pictures played silently on a flat rectangle mounted to the wall.
"This is... very advanced," I said, staring around in wonder.
"Really?" Riley looked around her apartment as if seeing it for the first time. "I guess I'm used to it. Want the tour?"
She showed me how the light switches worked.
"Just flip this up for lights, down for off," she explained.
Then she demonstrated the television. "Want to see what's on TV?"
Finally, she opened what she called a refrigerator. "There's cold water and some leftover pizza."
Magic at the touch of a finger. Moving pictures on command. A cold box that preserves food indefinitely.
"When did humans learn to control lightning in their walls?" I asked, still amazed.
Riley paused in the middle of explaining the bathroom. "Lightning? Oh, you mean electricity. That's been around for... well, a really long time. Where exactly are you from?"
Careful, Lyria.
"I've been living off the grid for a while," I said. "Not much exposure to... modern conveniences."
Riley nodded like this made perfect sense. "Ah, one of those intentional communities? My cousin lived on a commune for a few years. No electricity, no running water. Culture shock coming back to civilization, I bet."
Sure. Let's go with that.
"Something like that," I agreed.
An hour had passed, and I could see Riley starting to show signs of exhaustion from her early morning shift. The energy that had carried her through showing me around the apartment was beginning to fade, and she kept glancing toward the windows where the late afternoon sun was casting longer shadows.
"Okay, so sleeping arrangements," Riley said, looking around her living room. "You take my bed, I'll take the couch."
"I can't take your bed," I protested. "You've already done so much."
"You're nine months pregnant," she said firmly. "You need the real mattress. Trust me, the couch is fine for one night."
As she rummaged through her closet for something I could sleep in, Riley glanced over at me with curiosity in her eyes.
"I've been wondering," she said casually, "do you always wear those elf ears?"
Here we go. Time to use that word I learned.
"Oh yes, I... cosplay elves," I said, hoping I was using the term correctly.
That girl today used this word about my ears. I think it means pretending to be an elf? Close enough to the truth, I suppose.
"Cool!" Riley said, looking impressed. "They look so realistic. You must be really into it."
"Yes, I really like... cosplaying," I said, gaining confidence in the word.
Riley accepted this explanation without any suspicion, which was a relief. She held up an oversized t-shirt. "This should work. It's huge on me, so it might actually fit over... well, you know. Want to change into something more comfortable?"
That does sound appealing. This dress wasn't designed for extended wear in the modern world.
"That would be wonderful," I said.
A few minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom wearing the t-shirt. It almost fit—the fabric stretched across my belly and the hem hit a bit higher than it probably should have, but it was infinitely more comfortable than my layered dress.
Riley looked me over with slight concern. "Are you okay walking around like that? It's a bit... snug."
"It's perfect compared to what I was wearing," I assured her. "Much more practical."
After settling into the more comfortable clothes, both of our stomachs were starting to rumble. Riley glanced at the clock and rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"There's a good Italian place just down the block," Riley said as we both realized it was getting close to dinner time. "I'm too tired to cook, and I don't have enough food for two anyway. Want to grab something quick?"
Italian food! I haven't had proper Italian food since... well, since before the explody noises.
"That sounds wonderful," I said, perhaps with more enthusiasm than the suggestion warranted.
The restaurant was small and cozy, with red checkered tablecloths and the aroma of garlic and herbs that immediately transported me back to sunny afternoons in Florence. I ordered without hesitation, asking for things that might not even be on the menu anymore, describing preparations I remembered from centuries past.
Riley watched with fascination as I ate, noting my technique with the pasta, the way I held my fork, the casual expertise with which I approached the meal.
"Where did you learn to eat like that?" she asked.
About six hundred years of practice.
"I've always been interested in... authentic techniques," I said carefully.
When the check arrived, I reached confidently for my coin pouch. This was Italian food at an Italian restaurant. Surely they would accept Italian currency.
I placed several Italian lira on the table with complete confidence.
Riley stared at them. "Are those the same lira from earlier?"
"Yeah?" I said, confused by her tone.
Riley laughed. "These probably aren't the Italians who'd take this."
What?
"Oh... so these are fake Italians?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"No, just Italians who take... well, coins not from the 1930s..." Riley said gently.
"Oh."
When did Italian restaurants stop taking Italian money? And what do they mean 'from the 1930s'? When did currency become temporary?
Riley pulled out some cash from her wallet. "Good thing I have enough," she said, covering the bill.
As we walked back to her apartment, Riley's curiosity finally got the better of her.
"Speaking of coins... can I see that denarius again? I didn't get a good look at it earlier."
I hesitantly pulled it out, and she examined it more carefully under the streetlight.
"This really does look authentic," she said, turning it over in her hands. "The wear patterns, the metal composition... where did your family get these?"
From the Roman Empire. Directly.
"They're... family heirlooms," I said, which was technically true if you considered myself part of my own family.
Riley handed it back, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. The coins, the cosplay ears, the knowledge of historical food techniques, the complete confusion about modern currency...
She's starting to wonder about me. That's... probably not good.
Back at the apartment, Riley was clearly hitting the wall of exhaustion from her early morning shift.
"Don't take this the wrong way," she said, handing me a towel, "but here's a towel for the bed. Just in case..."
Huh? Just in case for what?
"For what?" I asked.
"Your water breaks..." Riley said, as if this should be obvious.
Not happening. Like, REALLY not happening. I've got a better chance of spontaneously learning to juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle. Which, given my track record with human civilization today, might actually be more likely than this pregnancy ending.
"Oh... thank you," I said aloud.
Riley looked at me strangely. Most women who were nine months pregnant would probably be more concerned about the possibility, but I just accepted the towel like it was no big deal.
Because it is no big deal. For me, anyway.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Riley asked. "You seem awfully calm about... everything."
"I'm fine," I assured her. "Just tired."
Riley nodded, though she still looked puzzled. "Well, I'm usually up early for the coffee shop. Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry. Bathroom's down the hall."
"Thank you," I said. "For everything. This is incredibly kind."
"Don't mention it," Riley said, grabbing a pillow and blanket for the couch. "We can figure out more permanent stuff tomorrow."
Tomorrow. Right. I should probably think about what comes next.
As Riley settled onto the couch and I headed toward her bedroom with the towel, I reflected on my first day back in human civilization.
First human contact in decades, and she's... genuinely kind. Maybe isolation made me forget—humans can be decent to each other. Though I should probably figure out what to tell her about... everything. Tomorrow I'll need proper clothes that fit over this belly. And I should learn more about these magical conveniences. And figure out how modern currency actually works.
But right now, I'm just grateful not to be alone.
For the first time in longer than I cared to calculate, I began to fall asleep knowing that someone, somewhere, cared whether I was okay. Then... that thought suddenly ended.
Crap... I just got comfy and now I need to pee.