The trio soon ended up back in the dark, grimy alley they first met up in. Two bags full of food hung from Damian's hands after he'd offered to carry them—an offer Aurora had reluctantly accepted.
Along the way back, Tilly continued to launch a barrage of questions at Damian, most of which he deftly deflected with gentle charm.
Just as they moved into the murky darkness, Tilly's next question arrived. "I always heard that people with pretty clothes like yours can wield the power of a highborn!" Tilly exclaimed, eyes shining with curiosity. "So can you?!"
At that point, Aurora glanced at him, but maintained a tense silence. She'd suspected the same, but couldn't imagine what a glowrat might want with the two of them, especially one so seemingly polite as this one.
Sure, under the dirt, grime, and torn clothes, Tilly was actually a pretty girl, but there had to be thousands, if not tens of thousands of pretty, young girls spread throughout the city. Why bother with this one?
"If that were true, I probably could have taken care of those gangers rather easily, don't you think?" Damian answered gently, a small smile on his lips.
His ambiguous answer didn't seem to bother the somewhat naive Tilly. Nodding, she rubbed her chin. "I guess that's true… Perhaps not all of them can do that?"
Aurora wasn't as easily convinced, however. Her eyes narrowed a little—she didn't enjoy his vague answer.
Yet, it was then that Tilly stopped in front of an old metal door and looked at her mother expectantly. As it turned out. the entrance to their building was actually in this very alley.
Sighing, Aurora put any thoughts about Damian's true nature behind her. If he truly could wield the power of myst, then what did it matter if they let him into their apartment or not?
So, she took out a set of keys and used them to open a classic, mechanical lock that made Damian scoff inwardly. Mechanical locks had practically become nonexistent in the Cooperative, simply because any one of them could be opened with an easy application of myst.
Naturally, though, he kept that information to himself.
They entered the building and Aurora, despite Tilly's protests, had Damian walk in front of them. Damian didn't mind her suspicion—in fact, he appreciated it.
The building's interior was no less dilapidated than the outside. Garbage littered the halls, the yellowing paint was peeling everywhere, and Damian noticed several cracks in the walls, ranging from large to hairline.
Yet, amid all the decay and age, one element stood out as distinctly modern: the apartment doors. Each numbered door was a sleek, steel sliding panel equipped with a hand scanner. Above these doors, electronic screens glowed—some steadily ticking down on timers, others starkly displaying the word EVICTED in bold red letters.
'Lovely place…' he muttered to himself. Fortunately, his companions were walking behind him and couldn't see the wry look in his eyes.
"The only thing the landlord maintains are those damn doors," Aurora grumbled, perhaps having guessed his thoughts. She said nothing else, but Damian could guess why a ruthless landlord would want full control of his tenant's doors.
Like the obvious answer in a game of spot-the-one-that-doesn't-belong, the well-dressed Damian led the way under Aurora's direction. In contrast, Aurora and Tilly's simple, ragged jean and shirt ensemble fit the setting far better.
They stalked quietly through the halls, came across a defective elevator, and quickly entered a stairwell.
They had to go up several flights of stairs to the fourth floor, which took a while because Aurora descended into a coughing fit several times along the way. With little surprise, Aurora refused his help every time, but fortunately she had her daughter to help her through them. Damian couldn't help but notice the occasional blooddrops flying from her lips.
Eventually, they reached the right floor and, soon after, the right door. Since entering the building, they'd encountered a few people, but most kept to themselves. Only a few seemed to recognize the mother-daughter pair and greeted them with relative friendliness.
With a tired expression, Aurora pressed her hand against the scanner, and the door slid open. Before stepping inside, she shot one last, tired glance at Damian, but then sighed and stepped inside. "Come on, then, Damian. Make yourself comfortable."
Beside her, Tilly looked far more excited. Without much sense of decorum, she snatched one of the bags of food out of Damian's hand, and sprinted past her mother towards the kitchen. Unlike Aurora, she was still full of energy.
Damian chuckled and watched her go. "Your daughter's spirit is remarkable, Aurora," he smiled at the mature woman.
"That she is…" Aurora muttered, her eyes following Tilly as well, before turning to glance at Damian warily. "I still refuse to believe you're only two years older than her."
With his signature smirk, Damian shrugged without a word. He wasn't surprised about her doubt. From the moment he could speak, his mother had taught him the art of manipulation, which came accompanied with many lessons in etiquette and diplomacy.
Even at eighteen years old, Damian could be extremely calm and polite when he wanted. In contrast, the eighteen-year-olds who grew up in Slagfall were likely to be little more than hormonal idiots, like most teenagers.
Seeing that she wasn't going to get an answer, Aurora sighed and walked deeper into the apartment. Before following her, Damian glanced up at the timer above the door, and noticed there were a few weeks left before the next payment was due.
Then, he stepped inside, and the door slid close, shutting out the outside world.
* * *
A few minutes later, Damian had taken a seat by a table in a living room/kitchen combination. A few steps away, Tilly was rushing around as she put away all the food and prepared to cook dinner. Across from him sat Aurora.
After she'd ended up in another coughing fit, Tilly had ordered her mother to sit down and let her do the work. Aurora was too tired to object—plus, this way she'd get to keep an eye on Damian.
The two of them sat in silence, at first. Aurora spent this time glaring at him warily, inwardly wishing he'd just disappear, while Damian looked at his surroundings.
The apartment Damian found himself in was surprisingly cozy, despite its obviously impoverished state.
Soft, faded rugs covered the cracked vinyl flooring, bringing some warmth into the otherwise cold space. The walls, stained and discolored with age, were partially covered with makeshift decorations.
The modest kitchen area Tilly bustled around in was tiny but tidy, featuring an aged refrigerator humming softly in the corner, an electric stove with mismatched knobs, and shelves lined neatly with chipped dishes. From the side, a dim neon glow filtered through a grime-coated window.
The living area itself held worn furniture that had clearly seen better days—a patched-up sofa, a battered coffee table cluttered with tools, scrap metal, and a half-repaired device Damian couldn't identify. The table he sat at had uneven legs, stabilized by folded cardboard, and yet it felt surprisingly homely.
Everywhere Damian looked, there were small hints of resourcefulness and quiet pride—like handmade cushions sewn from leftover fabric, and candles in recycled jars scattered around to supplement the unreliable electric lighting.
It was humble, but clearly maintained by determination and care rather than money. It was obviously nothing compared to what he was used to, but Damian found himself admiring the way this family seemed to hold on to their humanity, despite the harsh world they lived in.
After he was done, he turned back to Aurora, and looked into her turbid brown eyes. "There's a lot of pride in your home," he commented solemnly.
Aurora blinked, appearing surprised by his comment. But she quickly recovered and nodded. "Yes, there is…" she muttered softly, her gaze becoming distant with memories.
But then she quickly refocused and narrowed her eyes at him. It seemed his comment about pride had awakened something inside her. She leaned closer and, in a tone just soft enough that the busy Tilly couldn't hear, asked him directly: "Tell me why you're really here, Damian…"