Kindness (Part One)

Iris sat huddled again in the corner as usual, her body pulled into itself, trying to blend into the worn wooden walls of the bar. Her mind wandered as she watched the few patrons drift in and out, figures in the semi-darkness, quiet conversations laced with tension.

Siri nudged her as she passed by, balancing a tray with effortless ease. “Ah, Iris, you´re done for today,” she muttered, nodding toward the staircase. “Could you maybe bring this to the Elrics? You´re free after that.”

Iris nodded. She grabbed the tray, the glasses clinking together softly as she made her way up the narrow stairs. When she reached the top, she paused for a second before stepping into the room. Two figures sat at a table in the corner- a man with a hardened face and his son, his eyes flicking nervously.

Iris set the plates and drinks on the table, unloading the tray. The father looked up with soft eyes. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

"I´m Max. And this is Ashford," he said, placing his arms around his son´s shoulders. "Call him Ash."

"Iris Forger."

The father smiled at her and she smiled back slightly too. Without another word, she turned and headed back downstairs, setting the empty tray down on the bar and finding a raised stool at the counter, staring blankly ahead. The exhaustion that had been tugging at her all day finally crashed over her, and she slumped against the counter, her face resting in her hands.

Lancer glanced at her from behind the counter, eyebrow raised.

"Wine?"

Iris nodded and sat up as he passed her a glass on the counter. She drank in silence, eventually noticing a small vase filled with flowers in the corner. All guests had already left and Lance was cleaning up for the day.

She eyed the decorated flowers in silence. Each flower had orange and purple leaves and almost resembled a little bird.

"Birds-of-paradise," Lancer finally spoke.

Iris blinked, confused. "What?"

"That´s the name of those things," he added, following her gaze. "They’re almost extinct. I’d never seen a flower before Siri started growing these on a little patch behind the building. She says her parents dreamed about going to the outside world someday. Said there are a million different types of flowers up there, all around."

“They’re pretty,” Iris murmured to herself.

Silence fell again.

"Max and Ash, they´re just like you, in some way," Lancer said. "They want to go to a place away from it all. Away from the chaos, the Ghouls, the Prowlers, the . . . people who think they own the world."

Iris’s eyes flickered. She knew where this was going, even if he did not come out and say it.

"You mean the nobles," she said, her voice cold, laced with a subtle bitterness.

Iris felt her jaw tighten. The flowers blurred in her vision as memories clawed at the edges of her mind, sharp and unrelenting. The nobles. Their mansions. The way they watched while the other sectors rotted.

"Yeah," she added, her grip on the glass tightening. "They don’t care. Not about us. Not about anyone who isn’t like them." As she spoke, a thought pulled her back into the past. An interaction with a nobleman two years ago, which she knew she would never forget . . .

It was during her worst time. She had run away from Trap and the crew. In fear. They´d been on a job in the main sector and had failed it, which had made the crewleader furious.

 Starvation was not uncommon in their sectors. Especially in the underworld. Older people who could not work. Abandoned children straggling through the streets. Bodies lying motionless against a wall in a dark alley.

On the day she ran away, she´d walked aimlessly for a time, trying to put space between herself and the others. She knew that she should probably find a place to hide, but she was afraid and tired. She wasn’t thinking straight anymore. She stumbled down yet another alleyway, hand on the wall of a brick building beside her. Dirt and soot stained her fingers.

“Why don’t we lie down for a while?” A voice seemed to whisper in her mind.

Eventually, she reached the end of an alleyway, then looked up dully. There was a wall in front of her. A dead end. Instead of turning to go back, she found a cozy corner on the street beside a small bakery. She´d wandered for hours by then, alone and without food. Having not eaten properly in days, she´d searched the bins after arriving but had found nothing.

Beside the baker´s, a warm yellow light flooded through the glass pane, illuminating the street. It was raining, as usual, and the droplets reflected the comforting light. 

Her stomach growled, but she had learned to ignore it. Just as the few people who did walk past the street ignored her. She felt dizzy, and the golden lights combined with the smell of fresh bread leaking from the bakery were overwhelming. She wondered if she could go in and quickly steal a loaf before the owners noticed. 

Eventually, she decided against it, not willing to risk a scene in case she did get caught. She couldn’t summon the energy to care about escaping, not again. 

She´d also realized that it was getting impossible to summon the energy to do anything. So she merely lay there as the rain became icy cold in the night. The ovens inside hadn’t yet been stoked for the night’s baking, but they would at least provide some warmth through the walls after a few hours.

She curled up, heedless of the trash and mud, and wept silently, being reminded of her parents and the little life they used to share. On cold days like these, she would normally sleep curled up in a thick mattress. Either that, or she would sneak into her parents´ room. 

The wet drops kissed her cheek and little streams of water ran down the sides of the alleyway walls. Her clothes were wet and stuck tightly to her body. She had no overcoat. 

Let someone call the Prowlers and take me away, she thought. Dying right here in the rain would be perfect, too. Even Trap´s violent demeanor felt perfectly bearable at that moment. At least there was food, however little it was. 

Some time later the sound of footsteps splashing in the wet ground near her made her flinch. She vaguely wondered what was going on, and decided that a Prowler had probably found her, and was coming to take her away.

She opened her eyes slowly, just in time to see a figure approaching, but it was not a Prowler. It wasn´t Trap either. It was a nobleman with dark brown hair, a young one probably only a bit older than her own age of sixteen, wearing comfortable clothes and a thick woolen scarf around his neck. 

He paused for a second, his eyes meeting with hers. She closed her eyes to avoid the feeling of being stared at, and soon after that the boy pulled open the bakery door with a cling, disappearing inside. The sweet aroma filled the street once again as Iris lay there motionless.

The little bell rang again as the door opened. Iris felt the footsteps pause before her once more and then noticed the sound of muffled breaths. Opening her eyes slightly, she found the same boy bent down in front of her. He hesitated, looking at her with wide, cautious eyes. In his hands, he held three large loaves of bread. Without a word, he extended the bread towards her. His face was clean, his clothes neat and warm, a stark contrast to her dirt-streaked skin and ragged appearance. 

She stared at him, suspicion immediately flaring to life in her chest.