Night shrouded Sacramento. It was cool out, but not cold, and the moon was pregnant and growing in the sky.
Upon an apartment building's rooftop, someone lurked in the shadows. The light fixture over the stairway door was out, the bulb unscrewed. The hidden figure sat cross-legged on the roof, and had remained still and silent for about an hour now. This was not easy, especially when the one attempting stillness was Sonnie Wu. The energetic Monkey strained against the urge to get up and walk about. Doing nothing but mentally counting the minutes had been torturous. Somehow, she had managed. Her self-allotted time limit should just about be up, however.
Slowly, she checked the time on her phone, only very briefly allowing the screen's light to fall upon her. Yes, just over an hour had passed. The demonstration of good faith, a symbolic gesture, was finished.
There was a secondary source of light. A metal bucket sat before Sonnie, and in it, a small fire burned.
It was a low flame that shed little light, one that smoldered on a small feast of pine wood chips. The result was a fire that did not burn hot, and produced quite lot of smoke. This is what she needed. A conduit.
The sacrifice of stillness and shadows had been made, and the smoke was here to play witness. Now it was time to seal the deal.
"Secretive Smoke. I am Sonja Wu, Beast and Claviger of the Spring Court. By right of my fae blood, I call upon you to forge a pact with me," she whispered, tossing a couple more pine chips into the bucket. The smoke plumed.
"Show me your ways," she implored, "Give me your advantages. Smoke is dark, smoke is silent, smoke is elusive. Smoke always gets away."
"In accordance with the old ways, the agreement you made with faerie kind. I feed you, and you shield me from prying eyes."
There was a pause in the air, as if something unseen waited a few beats for dramatic effect. Perhaps something did. Then the smoke pouring from the old steel bucket reacted. There was no sudden breeze, no change to the air, yet the smoke briefly changed direction. It wafted out to blast Sonnie in the face.
She coughed and sat back, away from the tiny fire, waving a hand in the air by reflex. Through watery eyes, the Steepscrambler thought she saw a face in the cloud of smoke, one that smiled coyly at her. Or maybe it was her imagination.
Either way, she knew the Contract had been signed.