As Apollo sat cross-legged on the cold ground, arms folded and eyes half-lidded in contemplation, it didn't take long before movement stirred at the far end of the alley.
Footsteps—calm, purposeful.
A pair of figures emerged from the shadows, both wearing worn and patched clothing like the rest of the alley's dwellers, but there was something different about them. They moved with purpose, with awareness—eyes sharp, backs straight. Not like those who had long surrendered to life's cruelty.
A man and a woman. The man was built like a mountain, towering close to two meters with muscles bulging beneath his tattered robes, a scar trailing down his left cheek like a thunderbolt frozen in flesh. His presence alone caused the nearby beggars to flinch or avert their gaze.
