baby i'm from New York

[Manhattan]

I feel like I know you-
 
And indeed, she did. She was looking at a male version of herself. A darker, more angular, even perhaps larger version of herself. She was as reckless as she was beautiful, touched by magic and yet she walked on this earth as a mere mortal. Manhattan tossed his head and cut her off as she was walking. He noticed that they were heading North. Further into the cold, further into deeper snow that did not retreat with the seasons, even though by now it was late summer in other parts of these lands.
 
He snorted, the plumes of his warm breath taking wing towards the heavens. Blinking, his long dark lashes partially obscured his eyes as he found that he could not meet her face, but still he spoke, the velvet tendrils of his voice weaving their way through her hair and around her body, as if enveloping her in a hug, if it were possible to do so. “I will say this much, you are very much the daughter of October. And I know that I miss her so very, very much.”
 
He had not meant to be so blunt. He had not meant to enter these lands, much less stay. And he had not meant to meet her, much less tell her about himself. But now he found, that he could not be parted from her again. If home is where the heart is, then it was time to start building.
 
Because he would not be leaving any time soon.
 
 

MANHATTAN

Baby, I'm from New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of;
there's nothing you can't do.