𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 - l. castellan

𝒊. 𝒊.

𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘, followed immediately by a hushed curse. 

Brooklyn's eyes shot open, her knife raised to defend herself before she was even fully awake. Over thirty days on her own, and every sound had her on her feet and ready to fight. She was tired, but she wasn't afraid. 

That was the only reason she was still alive.

Keeping her breathing steady and staying light on her toes, she creeped around the edge of the garbage can she had been sleeping behind, peeking for the source of the noise. The alley wasn't very wide, and with trash cans and trash littering the sides of it, it looked even more narrow. Which was good for Brooklyn, because it meant she knew all hiding spots.

She could see another trash can, not very far from her own, knocked over. Near the can, a teenage boy around her age — a little older? — cursed as he hopped around on one foot.

For the first time in thirty six days, ever since she had left her house, Brooklyn found herself smiling. 

It might've seemed weird, but after everything she'd been through, something as normal as seeing a random person stub their toe on a trash can made her grin a little. It reminded her that everyone was in some sort of pain, maybe not the same as her, but maybe something similar.

"Fucking Hades," the boy cursed, kicking the trash can on purpose this time. He hissed, pulling his foot back again, "Ow!"

This time Brooklyn laughed, unable to help herself.

He may have been in pain, but it was fucking hilarious.

The boy froze, eyes landing on Brooklyn's trash can immediately. He dropped his foot, pulling out a sword from his waistband.

Brooklyn blinked.

Who the hell carries a sword on them? This wasn't the Medieval times.

"Who's there?" the boy asked, his dark eyes scanning the alley. "I heard that."

Brooklyn eyed the boy's sword, wondering it was real. Judging by how he held it, he could wield it quite well. And she wasn't in the mood to be a shish kabob just yet. Not before talking to the weird boy.

She stood up from her hiding spot, her own steel knife in front of her. 

The boy froze at the sight of her, holding his sword up a little higher. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Brooklyn tilted her head, studying him instead of answering. He was a little taller than her, and his curly brown hair kept falling into his eyes. She wasn't sure how well he could see through it. His eyes were dark, but the way he watched her made her realize he wasn't a regular kid. He'd seen parts of the world even Brooklyn hadn't. 

Which was weird because he didn't look much older than her. A year or two, at most. A dark, jagged scar ran down his face. Except it was red and irritated, as if it was still new.

"I'm Brooklyn," she finally answered, setting her knife down on top of one of the garbage cans. "And I should be asking you what you're doing here. You're in my house, wielding some weird little sword, and asking what I'm doing? That's not how it works here. Put the sword down, and we'll talk."

The boy tilted his head, "You can... you can see it?"

"Your sword?" she asked. "Do I understand why the fuck you're carrying it? No. Can I can see it? Yes, I have very good vision. Now put it to the side, because I'm not interested in being skewered today."

A little hesitantly, the boy reached to put his sword back in his holder.

"Ah-ah-ah," Brooklyn was quickly to snap her fingers and get his attention. She motioned to the many garbage cans littering the sides of her alley. "Put it to the side, and out of reach. And don't argue with me, I did the same with my knife."